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“That’s—that’snot going to be a problem,” I tell him. “Our relationship is strictly professional. Besides, Sienna is …”

Too clever. Too merciless. Tooprofessionalto get involved with one of her clients—especially someone like me. Plus, I’ve never intentionally broken a woman’s heart, despite what my reputation says. I’m sure as hell not going to start with her.

“She’s in charge,” I tell Mason. “I promise.”

“I hope you can keep that promise, Mr. Harwood.” Mason takes a step toward me, chin tilted down so he can give me a death glare over his glasses. “If you hurt her, Lena and I will hang your dick on a laundry line for the world to see.”

I swallow dryly. “Noted, Mr. Bescht.”

“I’m serious. Flapping in the wind. I don’t care how gorgeous it is.”

Before I can respond, the receptionist appears to usher me into Sienna’s office. I hesitate, considering shaking Lena and Mason’s hands, but Lena looks like she’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to break all my fingers, and Mason’s hand would probably freeze mine solid.

I leave them behind in the waiting room, letting out a long exhale.

Fine. It’ll be fine.

Sienna is with our lawyers in her office, reading through a folder of paper I recognize as the marriage contract. She’s got a black dress on today. Black tights, shiny black heels. I have to physically stop myself from following the line of her legs with my eyes.

Great start.

“Should I be offended that you’re dressed like you’re going to a funeral a few days before our wedding?” I ask.

She doesn’t look up from the contract. “Good to see you turning a new leaf, Nick. On the clock.”

“I’m under good influence.”

My family lawyer, Alvin, is leaning back in his chair, white hair perfectly combed, fingers laced over his chest. We nod at each other. He’s a man of few words—except when he’s writing long emails to my father about my behavior, that is. Sienna’s lawyer is a sharp-looking blonde woman with her hair in a bun.

Sienna flips a page. “It says here I get to keep my basement suite, but for the duration of the contract I’ll live with you. Just in case any paparazzi follow us around.”

I nod. “I have a guest room made up for you.”

Her eyes flick to mine, then continue scanning down the contract. I’ve already read the whole thing, as have our lawyers. I can’t think of anything we’ve missed: our timeline is carefully laid out; our numbers are crunched; our rules are delineated.

“TheNo Intimacyclause is thorough,”Sienna’s lawyer says, her tone perfectly businesslike as she taps the last page of the contract with a pen. “You can flirt all you want in front of the camera, but behind the scenes, hands off. Unnecessary emotional intimacy is against the rules; you’re not to get to know each other beyond what’s needed for the job. There won’t be any time spent with other people, either, just in case one of you gets caught and accused of cheating.”

“That makes sense,” Sienna remarks.

“Totally fair,” I say.

I haven’t gone to bed with a woman in almost half a year, anyway. I really, really wish my dick would stop reminding me of that every time I see my soon-to-be fake wife.

“I get half the money up front, and half the money after the divorce, assuming you’re able to take control of Harwood Restaurant Group while we’re married,” Sienna says. “Sound good to you?”

“Yep.” It’s watertight, and lucky for me, she seems to agree.

“It’s a deal,” Sienna says, and signs her name on the dotted line.

My heart does a weird, little jump, which I ignore. I sign my name next to hers, then shake her hand.

“Nice doing business with you.”

Nick, 7:13 PM

Did you get home okay?

Sienna