There’s no blush on its way. No heat sliding up my neck.
No rush of blood in my ears.
Maybe it’s because I believe it.
Believe with every fiber in my being that I’m telling the truth.
That Andrew Fletcher—the former bane of my existence—is as every bit as good in bed as he seems.
I exhale, just as Andrew lets my wrists go, his blue eyes pulling away from mine.
“Guess I don’t have to tell you that that’s the right answer.”
“It’s a lie. There technically is no right answer.”
“Well, it might be a lie for you. But there’s a woman or two who can attest to that little response being very true.”
I drop my hands into my lap, my skin still humming. “A woman or two? Seriously?”
“See, you’re getting better with lies already. You spotted that one fast. Now let me teach you how to spot other lies.”
Andrew doesn’t touch me again for the rest of the trip.
But he does teach me.
Teach me more tricks about lying. About spotting them.
About playing into them.
It’s like a game—his world.
A game I probably should have learned the second I started working in Manhattan.
I feel like I’m stuck in the beginnings of a superhero origin story, just beginning to learn my powers.
But as the city fades in the gray background behind us, opening up to a new world of green acres and slightly bluer skies, I can’t help but wonder…if my powers will be used for good and evil.
And there’s not much time to think about it.
Because before I know it, we are pulling up to a lonely road, leading into the most lush, green acreage I’ve ever seen in my life.
The woods are peacefully quiet around us, elm trees arching over the paved dirt path leading to the estate.
I stare in wonder at the lushness up until the minute the trees open up, revealing a house that is more castle than home.
My stomach drops, a sinking feeling pulling deep inside.
Holy everything.
It’s gorgeous.
The singular path spills onto a stone-paved motor court flanking a European-style manor that could double as a mausoleum.
It’s breathtaking. With its perfectly manicured grounds and greenery and stone steps leading up to the largest doorway I’ve ever seen in my life.
The place screams rich. And for the first time since Andrew told me of the lie, I don’t feel intimidated by it.
And when the luxury car slows to a stop, Andrew stepping out to grab my luggage and door, I actually exit with my shoulders back, chin high.
Andrew stands there, towering over me, a quirk in his blue eyes. He reaches a hand for me.
As if to say, You ready for this? You ready to lie?
And I realize that I am.
I nod—an answer to the question I saw in his eyes, and he wraps my small hand in his as we approach the steps.
I don’t admit to him that I might be off to a bad start already, though.
Because my pulse, betraying bastard that he is, picks up pace as Andrew’s elbow brushes against mine.
Chapter 9
ANDREW
The plan is simple.
Pretend to be engaged to Nancy. Fool the most observant people on the planet—my family.
Make it through this wedding weekend and then to the trust reading.
A piece of fucking cake…
Not.
Though, I gotta say: Nancy’s doing a damn good job. Better than I thought she would.
We enter inside the family estate, hands held, luggage in tow. And she doesn’t even bat an eye when my younger sister Sabrina shoots out of a side hallway like a bat out of hell, wrapping her arms around a woman she doesn’t even know, an already chipper voice a squeal.
“OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod!”
She’s like a siren. A siren who doesn’t stop.
She clasps her hands around Nancy’s shoulders.
“Feels like I’ve been waiting for you guys forever. I’ve been losing my mind from the boredom. One can only stare at the hot gardeners butt for so long before she eventually gets tired.”
I grin. “But you keep on trying, don’t you, Bri?”
She grins back, pulling out of Nancy’s surprised embrace. “Of course. You never know when you’ll find the next boy to disappoint the Fletcher family with.”
She finally turns to my date, brown hair and teeth shining. “Hi.” She reaches out one small hand. “I’m Sabrina. Drew’s younger and more beautiful sister, of course.”
“But of course.” Nancy smiles, taking her hand. She shakes it. “I’m Nancy. Drew’s nice and more beautiful fiancée.”
Sabrina beams, glancing up at me, her chestnut curtain of hair swishing. “I like her already, Drew. She’ll fit right in with all the craziness in this house.”
I sigh, trying not to shuffle over the marble floor. I set Nancy’s bag on the floor. “While we’re on the subject of craziness…who else is here?”
“You mean besides me, of course. The only person who really matters anyway.”
“Sabrina…” I start to warn.
“Keep your panties on, Drew. I’m just joking.” She glances over her shoulder, farther into the white and gilded foyer. “The stone-faced bride-to-be is here. Obviously. Then there’s the soon-to-be in-laws of hers, Billy Bob and Paisley Banneker of ‘lesser New York wealth’…at least that’s what Ma used to say. And then there’s the groom, Jonathan Banneker. More like Boring-Ker. And then there’s you guys, of course. And then there’s me—the life of the party.”
I roll my eyes, my gaze going to the grand crystal chandelier overhead that I almost pray to drop on my head. “You mean the ‘death-of-the-party,’ don’t you? You almost killed Aunt Valerie’s New Year’s Eve party seven years ago with your antics.”
“Hey, I was sixteen. No one told her to have the champagne out where I could get ahold of it.” Sabrina shakes her head. “Amateurs.” She gazes back to Nancy who watches us in wonder. “Keep an eye on this one, won’t you?” She points at me. “He’s just as bad as me…though he’ll never admit it.”
Nancy smiles, her full pink mouth pulling up at the corners. “Oh, I plan to.”
Sabrina goes to the say something else. But before she can, a caterer walks by, white coat
