“What happened to ‘I talk and you nod’?” West laughed, steering me from the grand entrance toward yet another elevator.
He was teasing, but I knew I’d been narrating everything we passed like a kid on a school field trip, acting as though West had never even been there before and I didn’t want him to miss a thing. It was how I was coping. It made me feel a little less out of place in his very curated, very rich world.
“Sorry.” I looked up at him and zipped my lips shut dramatically, tossing the imaginary key over my shoulder.
West smirked like he actually enjoyed having me there. That look, the amused curve of his mouth, settled me in a way I didn’t expect. For a split second, my life didn’t feel fake. It felt like we were two misfits about to cause a little trouble and laugh our way through it.
The elevator ride up to his office was nearly as long as the one to his penthouse. I bit the inside of my cheek, struggling to stay silent. West noticed and nudged me gently with his elbow. “Say it.”
“You feel too young to have this much money,” I said, grinning.
“I’m older than you think.”
“You’re thirty-six,” I shot back. “Miles and Easton love reminding everyone you’re ancient.”
“See? I’m ancient. I’ve worked every single day for twenty years. And when the deals started coming, they came fast. It doesn't take long if you work hard at something you love.”
I snorted softly as the elevator doors opened. I wished life was that straightforward. I knew West’s story had rough chapters, but standing next to him now, it was clear: West Brooks had won the game.
He took my hand again, feeling steady, warm, and firm in mine. He led me through a sleek, modern reception area where a young woman greeted him enthusiastically, “Good morning, Mr. Brooks!” Her voice wilted the moment she noticed me holding his hand, and when I offered her a bright smile, she didn’t return it.
West didn’t notice. He nodded and kept walking, guiding me past another desk where an older woman stood with a polite smile.
“Blue,” he said in that deep, even tone, “this is Hattie, my secretary. Hattie, officially meet my fiancée. She’ll be here for a few hours this morning. Let Hugo know she’ll need a ride back to Harmony Haven this afternoon.”
I blinked at him. That was news to me. I thought he was taking me back, not pawning me off on a stranger. Not that I needed him attached at the hip, but riding with a random driver felt unsafe.
But I didn’t have time to protest or overthink, because Hattie promised she’d handle it and West and I kept walking quickly down a hallway.
At the end, he opened a set of large double doors and gestured for me to enter first. His office looked like something out of a movie with leather, glass, city views, and not a speck of dust. Even the air smelled rich.
“Harrison will be here with the papers, but I wanted to go over a few things,” he said.
I sank into a pristine couch, feeling the anxiety start to creep in again.
“No sex. No kissing. No unnecessary touching,” he stated flatly. You’d think I’d just offered to climb him like a tree. My eyes snapped up to his, anger rising up that he’d even deemed it necessary to tell me his rules. I didn’t want to kiss him, and I already told him I wasn’t sleeping with him.
I stayed quiet though, and he kept going. “Everything between us is business. The legal tie makes it easier to transfer ownership of Fiddlers. My grandparents will expect you at Sunday dinners, so don’t schedule yourself at the bar Sunday evenings. Also–”
“Wait,” I cut in, needing to assert some control in this plan. Something that made me feel like an equal player instead of his little pawn. “Since we are tossing out the rules, I want a rule too.”
“Like what?” He scoffed. I guess since he had all the money, he thought he had all the power. But there was something I wanted, something that would be important down the line.
“I want all that stuff you said, plus, you cannot fall in love with me. It needs to be in the contract, Mr. Brooks.”
His smile widened and he licked his lips. “That won’t be a problem. Anything else?”
“Yep,” I smiled, knowing my next request wasn’t going to be as easy and I couldn’t wait to see his smug smile fall. “You workat the bar with me one night a week. Friday. I also want a raise. I’m barely going to be there for tips and I still have bills.”
He smirked, and it wasn’t the reaction I had hoped for.
“What?”
“I already had your raise deposited,” he said casually. “Before you even agreed to this. Do you not check your accounts?”
“No,” I admitted, defensively. “I’ve been a little busy dealing with your bar and your drama.”
He exhaled slowly, thinking.
