Chapter 2 - The Rules of a Fake Relationship
Clare ran toward the elevator.
Adrian caught her arm only long enough to stop her from reaching the closing doors, then immediately released her.
“Don’t.”
“That was Grant.”
“I know.”
“You knew he was here?”
“No.”
The elevator disappeared.
Clare pressed the call button.
Adrian stepped between her and the doors.
“Move.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to order me around.”
“Correct.”
“Then move.”
“Also no.”
Jenna hurried after them.
“Can somebody explain what’s happening?”
Clare pointed toward Adrian.
“He had Grant’s photograph.”
Jenna turned pale.
Adrian looked at the security man beside him.
“Lobby.”
The man nodded and left.
Clare folded her arms.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”
Adrian studied her for several seconds.
Then he said, “Sit down.”
“No.”
“Clare.”
“No.”
Something almost resembling approval crossed his face.
“All right.”
He lowered his voice.
“Grant Mercer approached one of my companies three months ago.”
“For what?”
“Financing.”
“What kind?”
“A redevelopment project.”
Clare frowned.
Grant worked in investment management. His father controlled Mercer Capital, a respectable private firm with enormous connections.
“Why would Grant need your money?”
“He didn’t.”
That answer chilled her.
“Then why approach you?”
“That is what I’ve been trying to determine.”
Adrian opened the black folder.
Inside were photographs, transaction summaries, corporate charts, and handwritten notes.
He removed Grant’s photograph.
“Two weeks after approaching us, Mercer withdrew his proposal.”
“So?”
“So the proposal contained information he should never have possessed.”
“What information?”
“Internal ownership structures.”
Clare stared.
Adrian continued.
“Someone was testing how much we knew.”
“About what?”
“That remains unclear.”
Jenna looked between them.
“And Clare is involved how?”
Adrian’s gaze returned to Clare.
“I hoped she wasn’t.”
“Hoped?”
“Until five minutes ago.”
Clare thought about the photograph sent to his phone.
“Grant followed me.”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
“That is what concerns me.”
Clare sat slowly.
Her embarrassment about tomorrow suddenly seemed absurd.
Adrian took the chair opposite her.
“Tell me about the dinner.”
She hesitated.
“Family gathering. My mother. My father. A few family friends.”
“Grant?”
“Yes.”
“His father?”
“Probably.”
“Anyone from Bennett Holdings?”
Clare looked up.
“Half the board.”
Jenna whispered, “That doesn’t sound like a family dinner.”
“It isn’t.”
Adrian nodded.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Clare frowned.
“My father is announcing something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Grant ask you to attend?”
“My mother did.”
“Did she specifically tell you to bring someone?”
Clare’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Adrian leaned back.
The pieces were moving behind his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing yet.”
“You have that expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one people probably see immediately before you ruin their week.”
Jenna made a small choking sound that might have been laughter.
Adrian looked at Clare for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
Barely.
It changed his face more than she expected.
“You should still bring a boyfriend.”
Clare stared.
“You cannot possibly be serious.”
“I am.”
“You just told me my ex may be involved in something suspicious.”
“Yes.”
“And your solution is still fake dating?”
“My solution is attending that dinner.”
“You weren’t invited.”
“You can invite me.”
Clare understood.
“You want access.”
“Yes.”
“So this whole boyfriend offer was convenient.”
“At first? No.”
“At first?”
“When I offered, I didn’t know your family dinner was connected to Mercer.”
“You knew my name.”
“I recognized you after Jenna said it.”
“But you said my first name before that.”
Adrian paused.
Clare caught it.
“You did know me.”
“I knew of you.”
“How?”
“Your father.”
That surprised her.
“You know my father?”
“I knew him years ago.”
“How well?”
“Not well enough.”
“That means nothing.”
“It means exactly what I said.”
Clare pushed back from the table.
“I’m going home.”
Adrian nodded.
“Good.”
“And you’re not coming tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
She blinked.
That had been too easy.
“Fine?”
“If that is your decision.”
She picked up her purse.
Adrian added, “But take my car.”
“No.”
“Then take Jenna’s.”
“I can drive myself.”
“Your car is in the garage.”
“Yes.”
“And whoever photographed you knows that.”
Clare stopped.
She hated that he was right.
Jenna quietly raised her keys.
“I’m driving.”
Clare exhaled.
“Fine.”
Before leaving, she looked at Adrian.
“If I agree to this ridiculous arrangement, I set the rules.”
“Yes.”
“No weapons.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“At dinner.”
He considered.
“Agreed.”
“No threatening Grant.”
“Define threatening.”
“Don’t be difficult.”
“I’m asking for clarity.”
“No threats. No intimidation. No mysterious comments about people disappearing.”
Jenna stared at her.
Adrian’s mouth twitched.
“Agreed.”
“No lying to me about anything that affects my family.”
His expression changed.
“That one may be difficult.”
“Then there’s no deal.”
He studied her.
“Agreed.”
“And no touching me unless we discuss it first.”
“Agreed.”
Clare picked up the business card.
“One dinner.”
“One dinner.”
“After that, you disappear from my life.”
Adrian held her gaze.
“If that is what you want.”
Something about the answer unsettled her more than a simple yes would have.
The next afternoon, Clare stood inside her apartment wearing a dark green dress and wondering whether she had lost her mind.
At precisely six, her intercom sounded.
“Ms. Bennett? Your guest is here.”
She looked through the window.
A black sedan waited below.
Adrian stood beside it.
No entourage.
No dramatic display.
Just the navy suit, dark hair, and impossible composure.
When Clare came downstairs, Adrian opened the car door.
“You’re early.”
“Two minutes.”
“That counts.”
“You look nervous.”
“I’m bringing Manhattan’s most rumored-about businessman to meet my parents as my fake boyfriend. Nervous seems proportionate.”
“Rumored-about?”
“I’m being polite.”
“I noticed.”
He offered his hand.
Clare looked at it.
“Our rules?”
“You said we discuss contact first.”
“Yes.”
“May I hold your hand when we enter?”
She hesitated.
“That would look normal.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Fine.”
His fingers closed gently around hers.
No possessiveness.
No performance.
Just warmth.
The contrast disturbed her.
At the Bennett Grand, cameras lined the entrance.
Clare stopped.
“What are reporters doing here?”
Adrian looked at the building.
“This isn’t a family dinner.”
Her mother emerged through the revolving doors.
Evelyn Bennett looked elegant as always.
Then she saw Adrian.
The color disappeared from her face.
Her clutch slipped.
An envelope fell to the marble floor.
Several photographs scattered out.
Clare bent to help.
Adrian moved faster.
He picked up the nearest photograph.
Then froze.
“What?” Clare asked.
He didn’t answer.
She looked down.
The photograph was old.
Twenty years old, perhaps.
Her father stood beside a much younger Evelyn.
Between them was another man.
Dark hair.
Hard eyes.
The resemblance to Adrian was unmistakable.
On the back, someone had written:
VALE — BENNETT — MERCER 17TH FLOOR DO NOT LET THE CHILD KNOW.
Clare looked at her mother.
“What child?”
Evelyn’s lips parted.
Before she could answer, the hotel elevator behind them chimed.
The doors opened.
May you like
Grant Mercer stepped out.
And beside him stood Clare’s father, holding the other half of the photograph.
