Escorting the Groom (The Escort Collection Book 4) (3 page)

Not at all. Not ever. Not once.

It was going to be a long year.

* * *

B
LAKE

The billionaire was cute. Gorgeous, actually, but with the way he'd fumbled when he saw me, he seemed almost puppy-like. I mentally breathed a sigh of relief—I'd been worried what he'd be like since I'd gone back and re-read that article. I took in his curly dark hair, green eyes, and the large muscles going on underneath his dress shirt, which was open at the throat. He was on the verge of being seriously sexy, but he practically tripped down the stairs as he led me to his fancy SUV. Ty was out there, watching us, a smirk forming on his face as he saw me work my magic on yet another customer.

Ty told me he'd come and punch this guy if he turned out to be a freak. I winked at the bouncer as I accepted Lucas's hand and climbed into the back of the car. My look told Ty,
don't worry, I got this.

And here I'd been all nervous that I was about to be married to a stranger.

I settled into the luxurious leather seat next to my client. Lucas looked at me and smiled tightly. "This is… awkward."

"We'll be fine," I said. I reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm thrilled about the job. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Wait till you meet my family," he said. "You might want to hold off on the gratitude. You're going to earn every dollar from this assignment."

"That sounds ominous."

"That was my intention. I'm the nicest one of the bunch." He trained his green eyes on me, and I shivered. A glimpse emerged of the intense CEO who swallowed other companies in a zombie-like haze. "And that's saying something, because I'm not very nice."

I looked out the rearview window, Ty disappearing into the distance. "Oh." My voice came out small. So Lucas Ford
was
a dick. "Great."

He smiled at me again, and I noticed that he had a dimple. Just one, in his left cheek. "I'll make an exception and be nice to you."

My nerves abated. "I'll make an exception and be nice to you, too."

His dimple deepened as he regarded me. "Blake Maxwell, you have a deal."

"
T
ell me about yourself
." I bit the inside of my cheek, wincing. Everything I said seemed ridiculous to me. For someone who didn't do anxious, my nerves seemed to be carrying the day. It must be all of Blake's blond hair, scrambling my brain.

In my real life, I barely bothered with conversation with the women I slept with. But I had to talk to my fake fiancée. I didn't have a choice if I wanted this to seem real, and it had to. If Serena suspected I was just doing this for my inheritance, I had no doubt she would go running to the trust administrator to contest the terms in an attempt to inherit every cent of our family's billions.

Blake shrugged, her movement breaking my reverie. "There's not much to tell. I've been working for Elena for about a year." She said this quickly, as though she didn't want me thinking about her occupation. "And before that, I was a hostess and a waitress at some local restaurants."

"Which ones?" I asked.

"L'Hereux, Demain." Her pronunciation of the high-end French restaurants was flawless. "I worked at Ministry for a while."

"I like Ministry," I offered.

"It's pretty inside." She smoothed her skirt. "Where's your office?"

"Downtown." I seriously sucked at small talk.

"Where do you live?" Blake asked, undeterred.

I jerked my thumb toward the left. "Newbury Street. I have a penthouse suite at The Stratum."

"That's a beautiful building."

"That's why I bought an apartment there. What about you? Do you live in the city?" I asked.

"I live in Southie. And not the nice part." She gave me an embarrassed smile, and for the first time, she seemed like a mere mortal, not some underwear-model goddess.

"I like Southie—even the not-nice part. My favorite diner's there. MiMi's. On Kneeland Street."

She smiled more fully, flashing those brilliant white teeth. "That's my mom's favorite."

"No way. Does she live down here?" I asked.

"She's actually my roommate." Her face softened. "She likes the roast beef hash, which I just don't get. It disgusts me."

"You're crazy. I like it, too. Your mother has excellent taste."

"I'll relay that to her." Blake picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it while I tried not to stare. "So what about
your
family? They're local, right?"

"My father lives in the city with my stepmother." I laughed and scrubbed my hand across my face. "It feels silly to call her that. She's thirty-six."

Blake raised her eyebrows slightly. "How old's your dad?"

"Seventy-six."

"Oh. Huh." She looked momentarily boggled. "What about your sister?"

"Serena. She lives close by, too. But thankfully, I don't run into her too much."

Blake looked at me with sympathy. "Why are they so terrible?"

I shrugged. "You'll see soon enough."

"What's our story going to be, anyway?" she asked. "Do they think you're dating someone already?"

I surprised myself by laughing. "I haven't told them a thing. I'm going to introduce you to them this weekend. I was thinking we could plan a dinner."

"That sounds good… but can you tell me more about your situation? And your trust?" Blake asked. "Elena mentioned something about it, but she didn't go into much detail. I like specifics. I want to do the best job I can for you."

"Good. I appreciate that." I stared out the window as the city passed by. There was a lot of traffic on Massachusetts Avenue, commuters heading back to the suburbs from their downtown jobs. "The trust is from my mother's side of the family. It's a generation-skipping trust, which means that my mother never inherited any of it. It will pass directly to me and my sister if we comply with its terms. The provisions of the trust stipulate that in order to inherit the corpus, Serena and myself both need to be married by the age of thirty-five, and that the marriage must last for at least one year."

"What's the ‘corpus'?" She wrinkled her nose. "And why would it have terms like that?"

"The corpus is the bulk of the money in the trust instrument. And as for the terms, it's pretty common to have terms that denote that the grantee is mature enough to handle the inheritance." I scrubbed a hand across my face. "In my case, my mother's family wanted to be sure that the heirs only got access to the money if we were mature enough to take care of it. And they thought that marriage—one that wasn't short-term—was a good marker of that… or their trust and estates lawyers did."

Blake was quiet for a moment, appearing to process what I'd told her. "You said Serena was older than you?" Blake asked. "Is she married?"

"She was. She's divorced now." I turned back to Blake. "But she's qualified for her portion of the trust. She's met the requirements. The only thing standing in the way of her inheriting the whole thing is me. She doesn't get her money until it's been determined whether or not I'm getting the other half. That's why you're here."

"But otherwise, she gets everything?" Blake asked.

I sighed. "That's right. And if you knew my sister, you'd know why I don't want that to happen."

"I can't wait to meet her," Blake said, deadpan.

* * *

B
LAKE

We pulled up outside The Stratum, and the valet opened my door.

"Wait a minute," Lucas snapped.

The valet nodded and immediately closed the door.

"This will be the first time we're seen in public." Lucas turned to me, his green eyes searching my face. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

I nodded. "Absolutely. This money will be life-changing for me. I'll be able to take care of my mom, not to mention what a million dollars would do for me."

"If this works, you'll get two million." Lucas's intense gaze held mine. The outrageousness of what we were doing hung in the air between us.

I smiled at him gamely. He needed to see that I was his ally. "I can do what you're asking, and I'm more than happy to. I promise I'll do what you ask, when you ask. Okay?"

"Okay. Then I should give you this." He pulled out a box and opened it. "We should start as we mean to go on." An enormous, square-cut diamond engagement ring glittered in the box, leaving me breathless.

I stared at it, open-mouthed. "Huh.
Wow
."

"I don't socialize with the people in my building too often, but they should see you wearing the ring. Everyone should."

I ogled the huge ring. "They'll see it, all right."

He took my hand, giving me a solemn smile and simultaneously, the chills. "Blake Maxwell, will you marry me?"

I smiled back at him. This was not how I'd pictured this moment as a little girl… but since when had my life ever gone as I'd hoped?

"Lucas Ford, I accept." He slid the ring on my finger, and I wondered vaguely whether his driver, who was double-parked and completely silent, thought we were insane. Then the valet opened the door again. I stood on the sidewalk, watching the diamond sparkle in the late-afternoon sun. I remembered the money.

And I no longer cared what anyone else thought.

* * *

T
he lobby
of the hotel was as I remembered it. There were marble floors, marble columns, and teak woodwork. It was very luxurious and a bit severe, sort of like Lucas Ford himself.

I didn't tell him that I'd been there before. With other men. I hoped that none of the staff would recognize me. If they did, I prayed they at least had the decency to pretend otherwise.

I tentatively put my hand on Lucas's arm as we headed toward the elevator. If people were going to believe that we were a couple—engaged, no less—there was no time like the present for us to act like one. Lucas shot me a look but then took my hand. Even though I was five-feet-eight, I felt positively tiny next to him as he hustled me through the lobby. He pulled me close against his six-feet-three frame, nodding curtly at the hotel staff, not stopping to say hello to anyone. Lucas Ford was clearly a lone wolf. It was going to be difficult to convince people that he had finally chosen a mate. He released my hand when he got inside the elevator.

"Lucas…" I let my voice trail off. "Would it be okay if I ask you some more questions?"

His green eyes scanned me, making me shiver again. "Such as?"

"Such as, why did you hire me? Why didn't you ask a friend? Or actually…" I let my voice trail off.

"Actually what?" He faced the elevator doors as they opened then strode through. From what I could see, there was only one door on this floor. We had reached the penthouse suite, occupation one.

Now two.

He opened the door, and I momentarily forgot about all of my questions.
Holy guacamole.
Even though I’d been to The Stratum before, I'd never been in the penthouse suite. It had all the usual touches one would expect—gleaming hardwood floors, gorgeous furniture, original artwork. But the best part was the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up an entire wall, overlooking the park. I went over to them and looked out, gaping.

"Wow." The park stretched out before me, its flowering trees and sparkling ponds glinting in the afternoon light. "This might be the best view in the city."

Lucas came up beside me. "I've always liked it." He turned to me. "Now, what were you asking me?"

"I'm asking why you hired me when you have all of this." I gestured to the view, the apartment, and finally to Lucas himself, which brought a small grin to his face. "It can't exactly be difficult for you to find a date."

His eyes sparkled. "It's not that it's difficult. But I need this to be a business transaction. I'm not interested in having a relationship with anyone. I'm certainly not interested in having a wife."

I knew I shouldn't ask more, because it wasn't my business. But curiosity got the better of me. "Why is that?"

"I can see that you're the inquiring type." The small smile still played on his lips. "I'll make you a deal. You can ask me five questions, and I will answer them honestly. But then I get to ask
you
five questions, and
you
have to answer them honestly. And then we're done with all this getting-to-know-you garbage. Deal?"

I crossed my arms against my chest. "Deal." I looked toward the kitchen, mentally kicking myself for starting this. I wasn't looking forward to answering his questions. "Can we have a drink while we play this?"

Lucas immediately headed toward his liquor cabinet. "Hell yes, we can. Does that count as one of your questions?"

"Does that count as one of yours?"

"No." He poured us each a neat bourbon.

"Then no for me, too." I started formulating my list of questions. I knew he wouldn't give me a second chance. I had to make these count.

Lucas sank down onto one end of his enormous leather sectional, and I sat down on the other, tightly gripping my drink. "Okay. Here we go. Question number one: why aren't you interested in having a relationship or a wife?"

Lucas took a sip of his drink. I tried not to let my eyes wander down to the part of his chest visible beneath the undone buttons of his shirt. "That's a compound question. That should count as two questions."

I shook my head. "It's not a compound question because it's addressing one over-arching point. Besides, it's what you just said. Now please stop being so technical, and let's get this over with."

He chuckled and then sat back, looking resigned. "I'm not interested in having a relationship or a wife because, quite frankly, I haven't met anyone who's held my interest for long enough. Not for a month. Not for a year. And certainly not for a lifetime."

He was pretty full of himself, but at least it seemed like he was being honest. "So… question number two: have you ever had a real relationship before?" I knew he'd never been married because I'd done my homework via a thorough Google search.

"Yes. I have had a real relationship before." His brow furrowed, as if I might be giving him a headache.

"Question three: how old were you when you had this relationship?" I had a million more things I wanted to ask, but I was running out of road. I had a feeling this was the only way I would be able to get this information out of him.