Page 82 of The Girlfriend Clause
She scoffed and leaned back in her seat, looking away. “As I said. I didn’t ask for your help. And I certainly didn’t ask to be your prop for some shady deal.”
“That’s not what—” I took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry about saying you were with me.”
There. I’d said it. She looked at me, more interested now.
“I must have misread the situation,” I said, with an internal wince I hoped I hid.
“Yes. You did. Do you do that a lot?”
We looked at each other, not moving. How could we have such different recollections of events? Or had she just been playing me since she realized who I was, like Bonnie said?
I didn’t answer. She was clearly trying to rile me. “What were you even doing there anyway?” I asked. Bonnie was convinced she was some sort of stalker. The best way to neutralize her would be with a well-drafted contract.
“That’s really none of your business.”
“Right. Well.” I cleared my throat again. It was like the words were actually sticky and didn’t want to come out. “Unfortunately, this leaves me in a rather challenging position.”
“Please, Mr. von Roth—tell me how I can help.” She leaned forward, hands clasped. Her voice was more sugary than the crumbled cake on the side plate in front of her. I could feel the vein in my temple start to throb.
“It’s Liam.” I frowned. “Roth. You can drop thevon.And themister, since, you know, we’ve beeninvolvedfor the pastninemonths.”
“Right.” She arched a dark brow. “Well, whatever you need from me, I’m sure you think you can buy it.”
The tea was too strong and tasted like sugary tar. I set it down carefully. Not a great start.
“Here’s what I propose.” I leaned forward and looked at her phone. “Would you turn that off, please?”
“What?”
“Your phone. Could you—?”
She raised her brows and scoffed. “Do you think I’mrecordingyou?”
Fuck. Well. It was a distinct possibility after our encounter in the boardroom. And there wouldn’t be much point in asking her to sign an NDA if it was already recorded. What if she said no to my proposal? She could do that. Just turn me down, right now, take this to the press, and I’d be fucked with Hugo.Hello!magazine would probably pay well for an exposé like this. Hopefully, less than I was about to offer her.
She shoved the phone into her bag with a tight, angry smile. The cat in her lap purred like an idling engine.
“You told Hugo we’ve been together nine months. You invoked Comic Con. You even—” I stopped, swallowed. “Galadriel.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
“What’s wrong with the Galadriel thing? Notalphaenough for you?”
“Which means,” I continued, “we can’t simply pretend it never happened. I can’t. I’m afraid”—I paused—“I need you to maintain the fiction. At least until the wedding.”
Andrea stared at me. She didn’t appear to give the slightest of fucks about my predicament.
I tried a different angle. “I’m sure you can see the benefits. The guest list alone—CEOs, investors, ministers. Significant players in the medical industry. Do you know what people would pay for access to a room like that? For you, with your career in pharmaceuticals. It could be—”
She raised her eyebrows.
“An opportunity,” I finished, already regretting my choice of words. Her expression suggested I’d offered her a used tissue instead of an introduction to some of the most powerful people in Europe.
Was she genuinely uninterested in advancement? It seemed unlikely. Wasn’t everyone angling for something when it came down to it?
“Here’s what I suggest. Two months, maximum. We attend the wedding together, maintain appearances, then stage a clean, amicable break. You’ll have veto power on events. All expenses covered. Plus…” I hesitated. “Generous compensation.”
“How very transactional. I’m flattered.” She looked anything but.
