The Arrangement
Liar Liar
ANGELA
This morning, the doctor called to say Dad was awake, but he needed to remain in the ICU. I was so relieved to hear he regained consciousness, but knowing how expensive a prolonged ICU stay would be filled me with anxiety. I’d have to hire an eldercare attorney to help me navigate all the insurance costs. A lawyer would cost money. And I didn’t have money.
I’d been out the door, on my way to visit Dad, when Brad Knight called and begged me to meet him at the Plaza. I hadn’t known what to wear for my meeting with Brad Knight. A business suit?
A frilly dress? Not wanting to be late, I didn’t change my clothes.
Now, I was at the Plaza, a hotel frequented exclusively by rich people, dressed in jeans and a blouse. Thankfully, I’d put on a pair of flats instead of tennis shoes, but my nerves were multiplying by the second. As I walked through the doors, a concierge stopped me.
“Madame? Do you have a reservation?”
“Hi, yes,” I stuttered. “I’m here to meet Brad Knight?”
“Ah, my apologies," he said, suddenly courteous. “Follow me.”
The Palm Court at heart of the Plaza had a soaring stained-glass dome that bathed the room in light. My shoes tapped across the marble floors while feathery palms stood next to marble columns. It was beautiful. Ladies in Chanel hats ate delicate sandwiches while businessmen murmured over cocktails. From somewhere near the bar, a pianist played.
Brad smiled from a table in the back, standing up and giving me a wave. Then, like a gentleman, he pulled out a plush chair for me to sit on. “Thanks for joining me.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling nervous. “This place is incredible.”
He winked. “You’ll get used to it.”
I laughed. “I don’t think I could.”
His eyes grew serious, almost sad. “The glitz and glamour eventually wears off. Fancy meals aren’t enjoyable if you don’t have someone to share them with. But that’s why you’re here.”
A waiter came over, dressed in a suit with a bow tie.
“Mr. Knight? Will you be having tea?”
Brad gave him a swift nod.
“Wonderful,” the waiter said. Then he walked away.
I wondered why the server hadn’t asked Brad what kind of tea he wanted. English Breakfast? Oolong? But then the waiter returned with a silver tray of scones, cucumber sandwiches, foie gras, smoked salmon, sponge cake and cheesecake. My mouth watered.
“This is tea?”
Brad laughed. “Yes, dear. I hope you’re hungry.”
I took a dainty bite of a cucumber sandwich. It was delicious.
“So, Angela,” Brad said. “What you might not know about my son, Xavier, is that he’s been through a great deal. He’s under a lot of pressure. And sometimes when pressure builds up…”
“It explodes,” I said.
He nodded. “Exactly. Xavier’s been reckless lately. And I think you have the ability to ground him. To remind him of what’s important. Family.”
Family. That’s why I was doing this.
“You’ll pay my father’s medical bills?” I asked. “All of them?”
“Everything,” Brad said. “Now, and into the future. He’ll have the best medical care available.”
I swallowed. “If I agree to marry Xavier, can I tell him why?”
“No,” Brad said, his voice firm. “This arrangement must stay private. You can’t tell anyone. Not your family, not your friends, and not Xavier. I have an NDA here.”
He handed me a multi-paged document. The non-disclosure agreement was filled with clauses. My stomach knotted and my palms felt sweaty. But then I thought of my dad, all alone in the hospital. I would do whatever it took to save him. To secure his future.
Even if it meant giving up on mine.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll marry your son.”
And before I could change my mind, I picked up the pen and signed my name.
XAVIER
“We’ll announce the engagement in The New York Times,” Dad said, looking at me from behind his glasses. “The photographer is here now.”
I clenched my hands into fists. “I can’t believe you’re forcing me to marry some gold-digger off the street.”
“Stop,” he said, lowering his voice. “Angela’s not a gold digger. She doesn’t care about her social status. I’ve chosen her because she’s good for you. She’s special.”
Good for me? My father didn’t fucking know what was good for me.
As if he could hear my thoughts, Dad narrowed his eyes.
“Xavier, I will not name you as my successor if you don’t do this. I want you to prove you’re worthy. Be the man I know you can be.”
Fury ignited in my chest. Becoming the CEO of Knight Enterprises was my birthright. And now it came with strings attached. I fumed, pacing around the living room. But this was a simple business transaction. Marry the gold digger, get the title and the inheritance.
Sooner or later—hopefully sooner—I’d get divorced and return to my bachelor lifestyle. Not that I fully intended to give it up in the meantime.
Who the hell was this Angela anyway?
Dad had arranged for our engagement photos to be taken in the garden of his Hamptons estate. I didn’t know who, or what, to expect as I stepped outside onto the lawn.
And then I saw her. A gorgeous blonde with Playboy playmate curves and an angelic face. Time seemed to slow down as she walked toward me. But then I got a closer look at my future wife. She was staring up at me with those defiant green eyes, and I recognized her.
The girl from the park.
“You,” I said. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Hi,” she replied, ignoring my insult. “It’s nice to meet you…properly.”
Under different circumstances, I might have liked Angela. She was beautiful, with intelligent green eyes and the kind of blonde hair women paid lots of money for, but hers was natural. In my father’s eyes, she could do no wrong.
She was a saint.
An angel.
All because she showed up with my mom’s favorite flowers and talked to my dad when he was feeling lonely. And he thought it was a sign from Mom.
But this angel was lying through her teeth.
I watched her with narrowed eyes. Why was she here? What did she want from me?
Angela saw me staring, and gave me a shy smile. Then she placed her hand gently on my arm.
“Hey,” she said. “I don’t want us to start off on the wrong foot. I know this situation is weird, but can we at least try to be nice to each other?”
I felt the tension in my shoulders relax. My annoyance and anger faded beneath her touch, and I found myself lost in her eyes. But then I came to my senses.
Don’t fall for her tricks.
All women ever want is your money.
Your status.
If you let your guard down for a second, she’s going to rip your fucking heart out.
I wasn’t going to fall for this woman. Not a chance in hell.
POV ANGELA:
Xavier no longer wore a baseball cap and sunglasses. His chiseled face was clean-shaven, his hair combed back. He wore a deep blue suit, Armani, or something equally expensive, and looked like a model out of Vogue. And he was glaring at me.
Looking at Xavier was kind of like looking into the sun. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable. But my hand was still resting gently on his arm. He hadn’t pulled away, or asked me to move it. That was a start. A small one, but hopeful.
Then, without any preamble, the photographer walked up, clapped his hands together and smiled at us. “Wonderful! It’s golden hour. Let’s begin shooting.”
Brad’s garden at his estate in the Hamptons was decorated with strings of globe lights. Climbing pink roses formed arches over winding paths, as romantic as an Italian grotto. There were fountains, sculptures, manicured hedges and a pool. I’d never seen such a beautiful garden.
“Over here,” the photographer said, leading us in front of the blue delphiniums and purple hydrangeas. “Put your hand on his chest. Like that.”
I felt myself blush as I touched the hard muscle of Xavier’s chest through the fine wool of his suit. He smelled intoxicating, just like he had in the park.
The camera shutter clicked. “Good. Now look deeply into each others’ eyes. You’re in love!”
I swallowed, trying to hold eye contact.
“She needs a touch up!” The photographer called out.
A lovely woman named Sky had done my makeup before the photoshoot, applying contour and delicate fake lashes. She hurried across the grass in her heels.
“You need just a swipe of powder,” she said, dusting me with her makeup brush. “Here and…here. We don’t want you to look shiny.”
“Am I sweating that much?”
Sky laughed. “No, not at all. You’re human. And my job is to make you look poreless. There, all finished. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You’re really nice.”
Sky winked and hurried off. The photographer began snapping away, asking Xavier and I to pose in different parts of the garden.
“Now kiss,” the photographer said. “Go on.”
I stiffened. Xavier’s lips tugged into a smirk.
“What’s the matter, Fiancée? Afraid I’ll bite?”
I rolled my eyes.
Xavier bent towards me, and I tilted my chin up, expecting a quick peck. But when he kissed me, it was slow and sensual. I felt a spark of attraction ignite like a fire. I couldn’t help it—I closed my eyes and kissed Xavier back, wrapping my arms around his neck. Xavier grabbed my waist, pulling me close.
When the kiss ended, his lips brushed my ear, sending shivers down my spine. He spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “I see you, you gold-digging slut. And I fucking hate you.”
Continue to the next chapter of The Arrangement