“Next Friday, Eliza.”
She nodded at him and brushed past.
He watched her go back to her table, sitting gracefully in her seat and talking to her friends.
His hand … tingled.
What was that?
He ignored it and made his way toward his table to find Natasha and Adam still enjoying their meal.
“Well, did you get what you were looking for?” Natasha asked.
He stared at his friends with a frown. “Eliza has agreed to be my fiancée.”
“First part of your plan is done then,” Adam said. “Now you have to convince your parents you’re both in love.”
He turned to Adam. “What?”
“You’re not taking your PA to your hometown, Preston. You’re taking your fiancée. Fake, or otherwise, you’re going to have to start thinking about her as a loved one,” Adam said.
“I’ll handle it.”
“I’ve got a hundred bucks that says he falls for her,” Natasha said.
“Do not bet on my love life. You’re going to lose,” he said.
Adam shook his wife’s hand. “I will take that bet.”
“Well, I will add to it and tell you that it will never happen. In fact, once all arrangements end, I will guarantee Eliza will leave my company for good.”
Natasha smiled. “Fine. How about this, if we win and you fall hard for this woman, you have to take care of our kids for four date nights.”
“And if I win?” he asked.
“We’ll get off your case about settling down.” Natasha knew how to bargain.
“Deal.” He shook hands, knowing it was the easiest deal he’d ever made.
Chapter Three
“I’m crazy. There’s no way I can do this,” Eliza said.
“You agreed to it the moment you told your Aguire dude that you were engaged to him,” Juliet said.
“We heard the words coming straight out of your mouth,” Mackenzie said.
“I thought you guys were supposed to be on my side.”
“We are on your side. We’re agreeing with you that this is crazy and totally not like you. I cannot wait to see the sparks fly,” Juliet said, laughing.
She loved her friends dearly, but this, it was … it wasn’t funny.
Eliza sat slumped on the sofa. The food she’d eaten lay heavy in her stomach, but she doubted any food she ate would settle her nerves at the moment. She’d agreed to be her boss’s fiancée. This wasn’t funny, not even mildly entertaining.
The days she spent with him were already long enough. Adding a fake relationship into the mix wasn’t going to be doing her any favors.
“I can’t,” she said. “I cannot do this.”
“You already agreed,” Juliet said.
Mackenzie sighed. “I can see it now. The sweet touches. The knowing glances. The kissing.”
“The kissing?” Eliza jerked up. “Who said anything about kissing?”
“It’s going to come up, Eliza,” Juliet said.
“Couples, engaged couples, kiss.” This was from Mackenzie, who looked way too amused.
She shook her head. “No. I’m not doing it. I’m going to have to cancel. I’m going to have to quit my job. Cancel everything. Probably run away as well.”
Her friends chuckled.
“Don’t. Please, guys, stop. I feel sick.” She got to her feet and started to pace. With a hand on her stomach, she tried to settle her nerves, but that wasn’t doing her any good. She felt like she was going to throw up, and she probably was.
“Stop stressing about it. You’re making it worse than it needs to be,” Juliet said.
“How am I making this worse?” Eliza asked. “We haven’t talked anything through. Next Friday, I go with him and play fake fiancée. I didn’t think of kissing and touching. I figured I would be PA where I called him Preston rather than Mr. Boone.”
“I thought he told you to call him that years ago,” Mackenzie said.
“He did, but I always freeze up and he’s always Mr. Boone to me.”
“You’re going to have to get out of that,” Juliet said. “No one is going to want you calling your fiancé Mr. Boone.”
“This sucks.” She collapsed back onto the sofa.
Juliet climbed across to her and snuggled up against her side. “You know, what you could do is go and find him and you guys come up with these conditions.”
“Conditions?”
“Terms. Where you both agree how far this contract between the two of you will go. You can talk about kissing. Hugging. Cuddles. All of those kinds of things,” Juliet said.
“It won’t be that bad,” Mackenzie said. “The movies make it look fun.”
“I think I’m getting an ulcer. There’s nothing fun about this.”
“You’re seeing it all wrong is all,” Juliet said.
“Go and see him,” Mackenzie said. “We know how you like to plan everything. I don’t know why you think this won’t be any different. I bet you already have pros and cons to this, as well as a whole list of suitable outfits, not to mention potential jokes. Will you do your research on the family?”
“I don’t find you funny,” she said.
“She’s done her research,” Juliet said, agreeing with their friend.
Eliza groaned. She had done her research. After lunch, while her friends went back to work, she’d gone back to their apartment and sat down with her laptop, with Preston Boone being the main search in her search engine. There wasn’t a whole lot to go on. He liked to keep his private life exactly that—private.
There were always rumors and local gossip, but nothing of any truth.
She knew for a fact the pregnancy story was fake. The model who had been the main subject of the story had stopped by Preston’s office where they had resolved the news together. It had required an hour-long phone call with someone in the media, a couple of news stories she had to write and Preston vetted, and the story had been removed after a whole bunch of apologies.
Preston Boone knew how to get what he wanted.
“You know what, you’re both right. I’m sitting here panicking over nothing. I should just go over there and have it out with him. Tell him what my terms and conditions are, like any self-respecting fake fiancée.”
“Yeah, you go over there and tell him how it’s going to be,” Juliet said.
Eliza grabbed her jacket and bag, giving her friends a wave. They wished her good luck.
She got in her car and on the road, heading toward Preston’s apartment. It was a forty-minute drive from where she lived. The closer she got, the higher her nerves rose. This wasn’t good.
The last person she wanted to see was her boss.
Still, rules had to be arranged. They were what made her life organized.
She liked rules.
After parking her car in the spare space, she climbed out. Preston had purchased a slot for her at his apartment building because he’d been annoyed at her for being late for a meeting because of no parking.
He’d been sick, but he refused to not work just because of a little flu. He’d looked like death, but she wasn’t about to tell the boss what he could and couldn’t do. With his determination to work, he’d given her the same flu. She had no choice but to take a week off work. Fortunately, Preston had been more than guilty. He bought her soup and she got deliveries of it every day until she returned to work in way of an apology.