Page 14 of The Temporary Bride

But now, thanks to his father, their rising tide will raise our ship. In that regard, I guess MediaSphere owes Julian Thorne.

I just wish he hadn’t asked for this.

“Partnering with Thorne will be a boost,” I say.

“No kidding. This’ll be the best thing for our stock in years. And it’s not even a merger, so Dad doesn’t have to get his panties in a twist about losing the family business.”

A grudging smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Still, I wish it didn’t have to be like this. You know you wouldn’t be looking forward to the partnership if it meant you had to get married.”

She raises an indignant eyebrow. “To Tristan Thorne? All due respect, Chloe, but I think I’d suck it up.”

I click my tongue, but before I can retort, she interrupts.

“Besides, it’s only for three years, right?”

“Yeah, but⁠—”

My phone buzzes on my desk, cutting me off. I glance at the screen and see a text from Tristan.

TRISTAN: We need to go ring shopping.

There’s a twisting feeling in my stomach, a brief resurgence of that weightless sensation I felt when he touched my jaw.

I type out a response, ignoring Genevieve’s stare.

ME: Why now? Seems kind of soon.

TRISTAN: The wedding is sooner than you think. The date has been set.

TRISTAN: We need to get the ball rolling.

This, I knew. The wedding will be a big affair, of course. All weddings in our echelon are, and it’s what people will be expecting. A simple courthouse arrangement would raise eyebrows. Even so, wealth makes it possible to pull a lavish event together quickly, and everyone is eager to have it done so that the business side of the partnership can move forward.

Everyone except me, anyway.

ME: I’m busy.

TRISTAN: Then make time.

ME: Just pick out a ring yourself.

TRISTAN: I can’t do that.

ME: Why not?

TRISTAN: I told you. This isn’t just for show.

I sigh. Maybe that promise is going to come back to bite me, after all.

ME: Fine. I’ll help choose the stupid ring.

TRISTAN: Glad to hear it.

ME: Meet me on Rodeo Drive in a half hour.

“So…” Genevieve drawls teasingly as another text from Tristan comes through confirming that he’ll be there. “Who exactly is blowing up your phone?”

“Shut up,” I grumble.