“By pretending to be you for three weeks.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
I sigh and rub my thumb between my eyes. I have a massive headache starting, and it has nothing do to with traveling today and everything to do with the weight on my shoulders. It has followed me to Boston and is staring me straight in the face in the form of my twin. “What exactly do I have to do?”
My brother gives me the full wattage of his smile now. He knows he has me. Hell, he knew the moment I boarded the plane.
“I’ve lived in this building for almost a year. The contacts I’ve made and secured because of it were exactly the reasons I fought so hard to get into this place.”
“What’s so special about it?” I ask, recalling the sterile environment I walked into.
Now, his grin turns wolfish. “The Tower. It was originally owned by Garry F. Brockton. I was personally invited to live here after we met last year. Unfortunately, he passed away recently, and now the building is owned by his niece. She’s making…changes.”
“What kind of changes?” I ask, curiously.
“Until recently, no women live here.”
I blink once, twice, three times, while processing this information. “Until recently?”
“Yes. She allowed the first woman to move into the building not too long ago, and it’s been nothing short of troublesome since. All of the tenants here are male, with money, and all looking to make connections and more money.”
“But I saw a dozen women in the bar when I entered this place,” I tell him.
Matthew just smiles. “And none of them live here. They’re here for the sole purpose of being invited upstairs.”
“Meaning to an apartment.”
Matthew nods.
“Okay,” I start, rubbing the sides of my forehead now. “So what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to oversee the redecorating of my home. It’s too…white. I have a decorator coming in next week to update the furnishings. We’ve been communicating through email, and she’s fully aware of what I’d like to see here.”
“Oversee it? That’s it?”
Again, he smiles. “I’ve spent the better part of six months working on a new business deal. The last two months have been pivotal, and I recently found out the company is as good as mine. The financing is secured and the final contract all but signed. I’ve spent long nights working out the terms of this merger, and it’s finally complete. I’m supposed to receive the paperwork in two weeks, signed, sealed, and delivered. The company is mine.”
“Congratulations,” I mumble. “How does this involve me?”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t really. The contract will be submitted electronically, the signed document couriered the same day. I just need you here to accept the package.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, unless he requires a dinner meeting to help grease the wheels.”
My heart stops beating. “Matthew, I can’t pretend to be you and talk business,” I counter, anxiety building in my chest.
“You won’t have to talk business. That part is already done. The old bastard seems to like me, for whatever reason, and the last two times we’ve met, under the guise of discussing business, we’ve merely talked about life, his family, and the travels we’ve done.”
Great, so now I have to entertain a lonely rich guy, like a call girl.
Jeezus.
“So, let me get this straight. You’ll pay off the one hundred and fifty thousand I owe in back mortgage, taxes, and bills, as well as throw in an extra fifty thousand, and all I have to do is oversee some remodel of your bachelor pad and maybe have dinner with some old guy you’re buying a business from?”
“Well, there is just one more task.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“I need you to break up with my girlfriend.”
That causes me to pause.
“Say what?”
Matthew goes back to his casual, relaxed demeanor, kicking his leg back up, as if not a care in the world. “Kyla Morgan. I’m done with her.”
I think my jaw unhinges. “You’re done with her?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much. Beautiful girl, decent rack, but not what I’m looking for in life.”
“And that is?”
“She wants a future. Family. Kids. The whole shebang.”
“And you do not.”
He taps the tip of his nose in response and smiles. His phone chimes with a text message, and he quickly pulls it from his pocket. Matthew reads the message, an absent grin on his face, and types back a message, setting his phone down when he’s done. “Speak of the devil, you’re having dinner tonight.”
“What?”
“Relax, Mason. It’s dinner here. She wants to talk. I told her I’d order Thai food.”
Like a fish out of water, my mouth just opens and closes repeatedly, while my brother slides a pen across the desk. “So that’s it? Just break up with the poor girl?”
He shrugs and stands. “She’s of no use to me anymore.”
My stomach twists. Is this the man my brother has become? I knew he was ruthless in the boardroom, but this? He’s not even breaking up with her in person. The asshole is relying on me to do it.
Sighing, I glance down at the paperwork in front of me. “Is a contract necessary?”
Matthew places his dirty glass over by the decanter and leans against the cabinet. “I use NDAs in pretty much all of my dealings, Mason, and I wanted the terms clearly stated.”
Realizing I’m out of options, I flip the paper over to the last page and grab the pen. “So dinner with the old guy, redecorate, and break up with the woman you’re finished playing with. That it?”
“That’s it.”
Pen poised, I finally scribble my name on the line and toss the packet onto the desk, already knowing I’m going to regret this.
“Great,” he says, gathering the document and sticking it into a folder before locking it in a cabinet drawer behind his desk.
“Now what?”
“Now? Now you enjoy everything my lifestyle can offer. Break up
