Page 39 of Handsome Devil

“He bought a Super Bowl ad to announce your engagement,” Dylan cried out, trying to recover, to lighten up the mood. “This is so extra andsoTate. It was either that or pissing on your leg in Madison Square Garden and barking at every man who glanced your way.”

“Thank you for the emotional support.” I flattened my napkin in my lap, straightening my posture.

“So…” Cal glanced around, unsure. “How did it happen?”

“We struck a deal.” I cleared my throat. “He helped me get Mum in that trial program, and I, in return, have to pretend to be his loving wife. He wants to ruin my life.”

“I’m pretty sure what he wants to ruin is your uterus.” Dylan squinted. “He’s always had a thing for you.”

“That’s rubbish. He loathes me,” I moaned, letting my head drop between my arms on the table. “He just transferred me to human resources, and now I have to fire people for a living.”

“There’s no other way?” Dylan went bone-white.

I shook my head. “The trial Mum’s been accepted to…” I left the rest to their imagination.

Cal’s eyes went soft. “I’m so, so sorry.”

There was a beat of silence before Dylan piped up again. “I mean…he is superrich, handsome, and literally obsessed with the oxygen you breathe…”

My eyebrows snapped into a frown. “I’m not even attracted to hi—”

“You told me you’d fold for him like a cheap lawn chair.” Dylan raised her palm to stop me. “Remember? At Alix’s wedding.”

“That doesn’t count. I was drunk,” I balked.

“Drunk admissions are always truthful.”

I picked up a paper napkin, scrunched it, and tossed it at Dylan. “So what if he’s hot? He’s still a meanie.” I felt myself smiling. It was the alcohol, surely. And the exhaustion that came with being sad all the time because of Mum.

“Have you fucked him yet?” Dylan wiggled her brows. “Does he come lava? Poison? Tar? Asking for a friend.”

“No,” I spluttered, actually giggling. Dylan had the uncanny ability to make light of the darkest moments. “But I moved into his bloody apartment as part of our deal. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him. I’ve actually bought individual Cheerios cups and bottled water to survive in my room.”

I couldn’t risk bumping into Tate in the kitchen. Not since I almost kissed him.

“Wait, isn’t he thrice divorced?” Dylan munched on the edge of a fry. “Don’t be so stressed. By all available data, this marriage is going to expire before a can of lentil soup.”

“Those cans are good for, like, a decade.” I scowled, looking between my two friends.

“Don’t worry. We’ll go to our husbands and pressure them to make Tate call it off,” Dylan promised.

Cal nodded, nibbling on her lower lip pensively. “Row and Rhyland are both in business with him. He wouldn’t want to jeopardize his work for anything. You know business always comes first for him. Let’s exhaust all our options before we freak out.”

I swallowed, nodding. Tate usually put his company’s needs first, but he was also unpredictable, a mad king reigning an empire of thorns. A pyromaniac with a decadent taste for destruction.

And he was dead set on ruining me.

“His ears must be ringing…” Cal jerked her chin toward my phone. The screen showed Tate’s name.

Stifling a groan, I picked it up. “What do you want?”

“An agreeable fiancée, for a start.”

“I’m afraid I’m fresh out. Anything else?”

“Come downstairs. We have a ring fitting to attend to.”

How did he know I was with my friends? Did he follow me? The thought made invisible spiders crawl along my skin.