Page 57 of The Maverick
“Try it for a few weeks and see. You have nothing to lose. It could be fun.”
I was in a fake marriage. When I stepped out in public, I had to play my role correctly, or the news media would start rumors. Then again, I saw how they could start trouble regardless of what people did. Attikus was doing me a favor. The least I could do was make this situation easy for both of us.
What harm would it do to pretend to be his fiancée?It could be fun.
My inner voice wanted to retort with sarcasm, but I shut it down before it could form. A part of me wanted to see how far we could go—or rather, how far I could go with this fake relationship.
“So you want me to call you by a pet name and flirt with you?”
His eyes sparkled. “That would make this situation interesting. Wouldn’t you agree, Lily Pad?”
“Lily Pad?” I asked, my heart racing for no reason.
“Do you remember the dark purple water lily painting?”
I sucked in a breath. “That was my first oil painting. I sold it to an old couple at a farmer’s market.” I’d loved that painting, but I needed money to pay bills, and the couple had offered me a thousand dollars. That was a lot for a new artist like me. “How do you know about it?”
“I own it now.”
I didn’t know what to say. “How? I sold it years ago.”
“I bought it at an estate sale.”
“For how much?” A strand of my hair fell over my face.
“I got it as a bargain.” His finger skimmed my jaw. “But it’s the most precious painting in my collection.”
“You’re lying.” I snorted and pushed him away from me. “You own art that can sell for millions of dollars, and you’re telling meThe Lost Lily Padis worth more?”
“I don’t measure worth with numbers, Vanessa.” He pulled me back and wrapped both arms around my waist. “That’s what it’s called? There was no title on the painting. And the only initials were VL.”
“Then how did you know that’s me?”
“Educated guess and trusting my gut. Based on all the new paintings you’ve done. Every artist has a certain style.”
I couldn’t believe this. Of all the people in the world, he had my first painting. That had been a difficult time for me, and I’d channeled that into the art.
“Why is it calledThe Lost Lily Pad?”
I didn’t want to share that with him yet. “I’ll tell you one day when you’re ready to share a dark secret with me, okay? We’re newly engaged. It’s gonna take time for us to get to know each other, Whistler.” This role-playing thing wasn’t so bad. It was helping me escape his questioning.
“Is that my pet name?”
“It is.” I ran my fingers along his powerful jaw. “The whistling caught me off-guard earlier, but I like it.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
“Because you seem carefree when you whistle.”
He blinked at my comment, and I couldn’t tell if it surprised him in a good or bad way. His phone rang, interrupting the flow between us.
“You can get settled. Make yourself at home. I’ll get the rest of the bags.”
“I’ll do it. Take the call.”
He nodded and walked out of the suite, leaving me in this luxury suite that I could never afford.
My phone rang, and I reached into my purse to see that it was my mom. I closed the door to the suite and walked toward the tall windows that looked out to a private yard. A greenhouse was attached to the side of the house, but it was empty.
