Merina lowered the phone from her ear in time to see a small envelope icon appear on the screen. An e-mail. That woman was fast. What was she supposed to tell her parents about tonight when a car arrived? I have a date with billionaire Reese Crane. Yes, turns out he loved when I went over there to challenge him. He finds my trucker mouth irresistible.
Sigh.
This would be so much easier if she could tell them the truth: that she was marrying to get the Van Heusen Hotel back. That a six-month trade-off would secure her future, and theirs. Granted, the moment her father learned Reese was blackmailing her, he'd take a ball bat to Reese's gonads. So maybe it was better that she had to lie.
As much as she hated lying. Deception in general. She thought of Corbin and her lip curled.
How'd the saying go? You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. A few white lies told over the next half year, and then she could go back to being herself. It was an act. That's all.
She'd have to convince her parents, as well as the press, that she and Reese fell in love. Opposites attract? That was one way to go. Enemies to lovers? That was another.
Still, a ripple of resentment came at how perfect this solution worked out for everyone.
Suddenly, she sympathized with her parents' hiding their financial worries from her. They loved her and likely did it to protect her, much in the way Merina was doing this because she loved and wanted to protect them.
But even with that justification, she was having a hard time forgiving them for hiding this from her for so long. She was an adult; she could handle bad news. Hell, she had handled financial challenges both on a business and a personal scale. Didn't they trust her?
Well.
They would.
After the divorce, they could relax knowing the Van Heusen Hotel was back in the family's "portfolio" rather than a square on Crane's giant Monopoly board.
At her desk, she wiggled her mouse to wake her sleeping computer and dug into her inbox. At the top was the e-mail from Bobbie: a bullet list of items, including the location of the restaurant, make and model of the car coming to pick her up, and a list of places where Merina might procure a manicure, a dress and shoes, and have her hair styled. The personal care items were marked with an asterisk and at the bottom of the list she saw its meaning.
*Each of these services will be billed to Crane Hotels at no cost to you.
Be still her heart.
"I'm not having my nails and hair done," she said to the screen. "And I have great shoes." Decisively, she closed the e-mail and, for good measure, deleted it. She would agree to the dinner and to the car picking her up, but she knew damn well how to get ready for a date at a nice restaurant. Could Reese Crane be more insulting? More controlling?
Goodness. What's happened to you?"
Merina looked up to see her mother leaning into the office, her hand resting on the knob of Merina's open door.
"You look positively ferocious."
"Uh…small overcharge on new linens," Merina lied, transforming her snarl into a smile. "Nothing a quick phone call won't fix."
"All right, then." Her mother returned her smile but Merina saw suspicion resting behind it. Lying wasn't something Merina did on a daily basis, so it was understandable she was bad at it.
"You're sure you're okay?" Jolie pushed.
"Absolutely. Oh, and I'm going to meet Lorelei for dinner, so I may be home later than usual."
Chicken.
"Later than three a.m.?" her mother asked flatly.
Jolie knew her well. Whenever she and Lore went out, they often stayed out until the last possible minute.
"No." Merina closed the window on her computer. "Not later than three a.m."
"I have to run an errand. Can I pick you up a latte on my way back?"
"Sure, Mom. Thanks."
"Welcome, sweetheart." Jolie winked and wiggled her fingers in good-bye and Merina's heart crushed a little more. Reese was making her run a complete scam on her family and for that, she'd never forgive him. She bit her lip. What had she gotten herself into?
Look at it like a six-month sentence, but with lots and lots of amenities.
In the grand scheme of life, six months wasn't a big deal, but right now, she worried she would feel every agonizing minute.
Chapter 5
Armande, located on Ontario Street off the Magnificent Mile, was high profile, difficult to get into, and known for its wealthy clientele. Reese had been here once, a long time ago, on non-romantic business. Tag was more of a regular, making it a point to be seen with his date du jour on occasion.
Reese didn't do romance. Dates, yes. Dinners, yes. Charity events, fund-raisers, dinners for work, no problem. He'd attended all of those and more over the years.
He hadn't always been jaded. When he was younger, there'd been a girlfriend who he thought might become more. Gwyneth had moved into his mansion, settled in for what he thought was the long haul, and after four years together, left him for someone else. Someone Reese had trusted, his best friend at the time, Hayes Lerner.
When Reese found out she was cheating, he told her to leave and she tearfully promised to be out in a week. He didn't spend another second in that house, packing a bag and securing a penthouse suite in his hotel. Thing was, after she did finally move out, he didn't go back to the mansion.
The hotel was more convenient, or so he'd told himself. And it wasn't haunted by ghosts of his past relationships—two of them if you count Hayes.
Gwyneth had cured him of the need to have a permanent partner. Zero interest, never again. In the quiet, ugly hours when he couldn't sleep, sometimes he thought her distance had been partially his fault. That he could have been different, better.
But those thoughts left with the rising of the sun, and by the time he pressed his morning coffee, he reminded himself what he was good at with women: beginnings. The first meeting, the casual dinner, the sex that followed and brought both parties a reprieve from busy lives and busy days.
A way to have it all. As many new starts as possible without investing years before learning his partner's interest had deferred to someone else.
It seemed even that coping mechanism had its flaws. The board didn't approve of his after-hours activities, and that part of his life could cost him his very legacy.