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“No.” She rubbed her arms. “It’s a lot. What you’re suggesting,” she clarified. “My parents would be thrilled to have me become the newest Mrs. Ellington.” She folded her arms over her chest. He worked to keep his gaze on hers, rather than on her cleavage. “But your parents?—”

“Will be delighted I’m marrying at all,” he finished for her.

“Wrong,” she said, echoing him. “They’ll think I’m taking advantage of your generous nature and using you for citizenship or something.”

He snorted. “Generous nature? That doesn’t sound like me at all.” She didn’t look convinced. “Besides, I’ll explain it to them eventually. When you don’t need me anymore.”

“Rhett, this isn’t a game. You can’t.”

“I can. Agree to marry me and Bachelor Number Three?—”

“Luca.”

“Whatever.” Rhett didn’t want to speak the name of the man that clearly caused her pain. “We do this and he’s no longer a problem for you.”

“But you don’t want to marry me.”

Yesterday, she might’ve been right. At the moment, the idea had way more advantages than pitfalls. “Probably no more than you want to marry me,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a smart solution.”

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Look at us. No one would believe it.”

“We’ll be convincing.”

She grimaced.

Did she find him so unappealing? “Do your parents know?”

“Aboutwhat?”

“Whatever it is you don’t want to discuss about Gallo.”

She shook her head. “It’s my issue,” she muttered.

“Do you have any confidence that they’ll eventually find a man you are interested in?”

“I don’t have any intention of marrying at all,” she confessed.

“Me either.” He’d never admitted it aloud before. “I’m not dating anyone. There’s no one who might get hurt if we do this. Come on. It’s the best way to protect you and put an end to the nonsense.” The best way to shield her from whatever scared her about Gallo. “I guess you could just hire a bodyguard. You have the contacts.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she stated firmly. “I shouldn’t need a husband.”

He swung over, perching on the coffee table, his knees almost touching hers.

“Nothing about this sounds fair. I get it. But your idea has merit.”

“With someone willing to fake it,” she protested. “Not with you.”

“I’m a great actor,” he lied. “Plus, I’m a known quantity. You need someone reliable, someone you can count on to help in the short-term and walk away when you give the word.” He tapped his chest. “That’s me, Trina. I can be that friend for you.”

“Why would you do this, Rhett? You hate me.”

Mostly at the moment he hated himself for allowing a few months of hard competition to get under his skin. He’d been immature and overconfident during their year in France. He hadn’t exactly been skating—his parents would never put up with that—but he’d been sure he knew all the answers in the hotel industry.

Trina had put him in his place and constantly losing to her had inspired him to become better at his career. Now he wasthe idea guy in the family. Recently, other operations sought his expertise on think tanks or consulting gigs. “I’ve never hated you. My ego got the better of me, that’s all. I’ve grown since then.”

He resisted the urge to touch her. He extended his hand, palm up. “It’s your choice, Trina. However this plays out, it will always be your choice.”

He waited for her to say or do anything. Just as her lips parted, a knock sounded at her door. “Did you order room service?”