Chapter Four—Jace

In all my years on Earth, I'd never seen someone make the face she did. It was a terrible mixture of shock and constipation. I hadn't meant to put this on her so fast, but I needed to make an appearance with a woman to start this con I prepared to pull over my grandfather's eyes.

Maybe, just maybe, if I tried to date for a few months, he would have mercy on my soul and not give my position to Seth. The thought made my blood pump wildly inside of me. I couldn’t give this to Seth—he would ruin it. Even if it was pretend, we could fool an eighty-year-old man, I knew it.

After a few minutes of silence, she giggled. It turned into a hysterical laugh that I knew Rebecca and our customers could hear below. She bent over her legs, while I waited impatiently in front of her, tapping my fingers against my desk, wanting to yell at her for laughing.

Stop it. My job is at stake.

She put her palms out in a calming way and shook her head. "You're joking. You're finally making a joke." She leaned forward and smiled. "You do have a sense of humor; I was starting to worry there." She pulled out her phone. "Do I have a company email for Rebecca to send my stuff to? Or do I use my own?"

I calmed myself. "You have a company email and laptop," I said, pointing toward the one I had ordered for my future assistant. She lit up and walked over to get it, following the instructions I had Rebecca tape to the front on a Post-It with her temporary passwords.

"I'm in," she said, smiling. When she met my gaze, she froze and glanced around nervously. "Did I do something already?"

Sighing, I palmed my face and slid it down roughly. "I'm not joking about dating me, Lidia."

She bit her bottom lip and played with a string on her dress. "Is this like—like a prostitution thing? I mean—I need money, but I don't need it that bad. Is the assistant job just a cover up?"

I stood abruptly and walked over to her, looking down at her young face, I felt like a jackass. "No, Lidia. This has nothing to do with sex," I sighed. I sat against the arm of the couch and glanced across the room at her. Maybe this was a terrible idea. I knew deep down it was, but desperate times … you know the saying.

"My grandfather gave me this job eight years ago with certain speculations. I had to be married by the age of thirty-five."

Lidia pursed her lips, in thought before she asked, "And I'm guessing you're closing in on over the hill, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm not old."

"Of course not," she said, almost sarcastically. "But, do you think dating me—"

"—pretending to date," I corrected. "I would never expect you to actually go through with the personal duties of dating someone. Now that would be prostitution."

Red crawled up her neck to her cheeks and she glanced at the toe of her heel. "So, I'm assuming I get something out of this besides my job?"

"I'll pay your tuition." Her eyes grew huge. "This won't be an easy task. My family is a prominent family in Houston. I need someone new and fresh to the scene, someone that won't let this slip to anyone. I need someone …"

"Desperate?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't have put it that way but—"

She waved me off with a grin. "Don't worry about it. I am desperate. I need that debt like a bullet to the head. But this won't interfere with my job? I'll still get paid and treated fairly?"

I nodded, feeling myself slip into the lies of this relationship. "Absolutely. But know now that I go places a lot. I have to make appearances and I need you there. I need my grandfather to think we're in love."

She looked out the window and stared for a while. I figured she was imagining all her free time being tossed out of the window. All her free weekends with her friends and the independence of being in your early twenties being taken away.

"Why me?" she asked. "Why not Rebecca? Or some other random girl you could have picked up at the bar."

"Because I've already done a background check on you. You aren't known in the art community yet, but you know enough with your degree to fit in; you are a fresh face that my peers won't be able to pick apart. In addition, I can keep you close, it'll be easy to manipulate with you working here. We started dating because you became my assistant."

I'd spent the entire night mulling it over.

Lidia put up her finger and wrote something vigorously on the notepad from the meeting. When she held the notebook up, she showed me the pros and cons list of taking my proposal.

My God …

I sighed and listened as she read them aloud. "Pro. My tuition is paid. Pro. I get to keep my job—"

"Lidia," I sighed. "I wouldn't take your position away from you because you say no. I'm not heartless."

"Oh," she said, scribbling it out. "Pro. I get to go to fancy events that I would have never been invited to. Pro. I get free food at these events. Con. I will be spending my free time at these events. Con. It's somewhat weird. Con …I think that's it. Looks like the pros win."

"So?" I asked.

Lidia stood up and offered me her hand. "I think we have a deal, Sir."

I took her small, soft hand in mine and shook it. "Jace, remember, you can't call me sir, that'll put off a different vibe."

She laughed. "Yeah, a Fifty Shades of—" She trailed off, twisting her mouth into a thin line.

I chuckled and she looked surprised. "Working on that filer, I see?"

"It's a work-in-progress that's for sure. So, she said quietly. What about relationships outside of," she gestured toward the two of us, "us?"

Leaning my elbow against my knee, I glared at her. Why would she accept this if she was seeing someone? "Are you dating someone?"

She sighed helplessly; her light green eyes looked almost—sad. I couldn’t sympathize with her. I didn't care about a relationship for myself, it didn't seem necessary or important. Did I want a family? I didn't know. I did know that I wasn't sad at being single.

Single people made more money because their heads weren't so far in the clouds of what ifs and feelings that they got their jobs done well and efficiently. Which frustrated me to no ends with this stupid speculation of my grandfathers.

"No, but what if my Prince Charming comes along during this and I miss out on him because I'm pretending with you?"

That sounded like a her problem, but I didn't say that. I needed her to be exclusively with me for the several months. "If that's going to be a problem, then you don't need to agree to this. I can't have you dating someone else during this extended period of time, you'll look like a cheater and if my grandfather finds out …" I didn't want to think about it.

She twirled a piece of her hair and thought about it. "I guess that's okay. I doubt I'll find anyone so soon anyway. Plus, a zero debt on my credit looks better than an in a relationship status on Facebook. Even though I know those girls from high school look at my status, because I ran into one of them and they were laughing at me." A snarl rose from the corner of her lip. "Trophy wives, all of them."

She straightened a moment later. "Okay, Sir—Jace—I think I can do this."

She thinks she can do it. The more I spoke with her, the more I questioned my sanity. If grandfather found out, at least he couldn’t say I didn't care about my job, because I pretended to date my assistant—the flamboyant, filter-less twenty-three-year-old—to keep it.

Look at your life, Jace. What are you doing?

I walked toward her, and she bounded up and offered me her hand again. "Wait!" she stopped our handshake. "What about affection?" she whispered like it was a sin. "Are we supposed to …?"

I waited for her to say it, almost enjoying the way she turned red at the thought. "Are we supposed to what?" I asked.

"I know we won't do it," she said. "But kiss? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," she said, crossing her arms.

Unable to help it, I smirked. "We may, nothing serious, don't worry about that. It's just a kiss."

Lidia twirled a bit in her dress and looked down at the carpet. "What is it?" I asked. "Why are you looking like that?"

She shrugged. "Just a kiss? Well—I'm not like that. I only kiss people—normally—that I like. I don't get drunk and go make out with someone. It's not my style."

Tugging at the neck of my shirt, I began to sweat. Is this girl going to fall in love with me over a kiss? I shoved my hands into my pockets and sighed. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I can't risk you catching feelings for me."

Something traveled over her face, and she laughed—loudly. "You think I would fall for you? Puh-lease," she said. "You're eight years older than me, what could we possibly have in common?"

I watched her eyes sparkle when she laughed and how she blew me off as if I wasn't worthy. "What's so crazy about that? A lot of people fall for someone they spend a lot of time with."

"Says the person that said it's just a kiss?" she countered.

Touché. "Right. Well, if we can keep our real feelings in check, and agree to not see anyone else, I think this will be a walk in the park."

Lidia glanced around the office and blew her bangs up. "This has been one heck of a day, I'll say." She tapped her finger against her chin. "What about Rebecca?"

I shrugged, not getting it. "What about her?"

Lidia gave me a sideway glance and pursed her lips. "I know you see the way she looks at me, she doesn't like me, and didn't want me to get this job. What will she think?"

I walked around to my chair, finding myself itching to get back to work after an hour of dealing with vomit and the twenty questions game. "I have work to do, Lidia."

She walked around to stand in front of my desk. "I need you to answer all my concerns; this is a bit overwhelming and a lot you're asking of me."

Looking up, I interlaced my fingers on top of my laptop. "I don't give a rat's ass about Rebecca, Lidia. It doesn't matter what she thinks. Once we start going to events together, if she asks, we're dating, period."

"What if she tries to dig up—"

"Lidia," I said. "You remember when I told you about doing things when I asked them?" She nodded. "Good, go get your laptop and pull up your email. I'm sending things to you now."

Lidia walked over and grabbed her laptop, sliding her chair up to my desk to open it. "I'll get your own desk soon."

She perked up. "Can I … decorate it?"

"Of course."

She gave me a sly smile. "Anyway I want?"

I looked at her over the top of my screen and studied the mischievous look in her eye. "I'm afraid to agree to that."

"Nothing crazy," she said. "Just better than this."

I glanced around at my desk and lack of décor. "You don't like my décor?"

She scoffed. "What décor?"

"Yes, you can decorate your desk how you want to. Don't touch my things, Lidia. I don't like clutter."

She nodded and mumbled something to herself softly before writing in her notebook. I tried to glance at her notebook before she shut it, but she did it swiftly. "What was that?" I asked.

"Taking notes like you asked." She shrugged.

"Not about me," I said. "What did you write?"

"That you're a neat freak—and maybe—or maybe not OCD. Who knows really, right?"

"I'm—I'm not OCD," I said, realizing quickly I hadn't spoken to anyone this much in … ages. "Lidia. Stop analyzing me. Are you sure your degree is in art design and not behavior analyst?"

She grinned. "Just getting to know my boss, since we'll be dating."

A punch of something warm touched my stomach and made me want to smile. I didn't but I thought about it. "Lidia, kill it."

She eyed me as I typed, receiving my emails as we worked in silence for thirty or so minutes. "I'm hungry. Don't I get a lunch break?"

"You didn't come in until after lunch," I said, not looking up from my keypad.

"Well, I didn't get the message until eleven twenty-five to be exact."

I eyed her carefully while she typed, her light eyes met mine and she lifted a perfectly plucked brow before poking out her bottom lip. "Please?"

I sucked my teeth and pressed Rebecca's extension. "Call for Chinese, please."

"Will do," she said.

I glanced back over at Lidia, and she smiled at me. "Thank you. I work better on a full stomach, and not hungover," she laughed. "I swear."

I knew that. I'd looked at portfolio and spoke with numerous professors at her school before calling her in for the interview. That was one reason I ignored her first interview, which was terrible. And her second for that matter.

A few minutes later, she said, "Ya know, Jace, I need to tell you something before we officially start this."

"Yeah?" I asked, not looking up.

"Don't fall in love with me during this pretend relationship."

I glanced up, expecting a serious face, but she wasn't laughing—or smiling. "You're serous?" I asked.

A small smile grew across her face, and she laughed. "I've always wanted to say that. A Walk to Remember?"

I gave her a clueless face. It didn't seem unusual for me not to know what she was talking about. She smacked her palms down on my desk and gaped at me. "You've never watched that movie?"

I shook my head, knowing that I was probably not missing out. "No, and I'm not watching it."

"Phew, what a waste, no wonder you've been single for eight years, you have no romance expectations in your life."

I rolled my eyes. Dear God, what am I getting myself into?