Page 57 of Merry Fake Bride

“Devon?”

My heart flutters and a smile starts to creep over my lips before I catch myself and sit up a little straighter. “Kairo?”

“You sound surprised. It is my number you called.”

“No, I know. I just expected to get your voicemail. It’s really late so I didn’t expect you to answer.”

“I can hang up if you prefer to speak to my voicemail,” he says gently, and I roll my eyes.

“No, it’s fine. I just wanted to leave a quick message.”

“Which is?”

He speaks as if he’s holding his breath and savoring every second of this call, which only adds to my growing confusion of feelings around this man.

I push those thoughts away as my attention drops to the letters my Dad left on the desk.

“I’ve thought about it and I’ll do it. You’ve got a deal. I’ll marry you for real, but only so I can help my family, understand?”

The smile in his voice is immediate. “I understand, Devon.”

14

KAIRO

The diner Devon chooses for our meeting is the last place of civilization on the outskirts of New York before the thirty-minute drive to the town where she lives.

It’s the middle ground between our two worlds and I’m exceptionally overdressed when I step out of the bitter cold and into the welcoming warmth.

Devon’s here already, sitting in a yellow booth beside the windows.

Martin will hate that we sit with such an open view, and it was already a challenge getting him to stay by the car.

Hopefully, he won’t sneak his way in here and ruin what I hope to be a very fruitful conversation.

I’d tried to make peace with the fact that I’d never see Devon again until she called last night with a sudden change of heart.

She didn’t tell me her reasons, instead asking me to meet her here at ten at night after her work day is over.

Pulling soft leather gloves from my hands, I approach her table where she sits with her head low and her gaze focused on her phone in her hand.

There’s a pen drawing of a flower on her cast that wasn’t there before, and her brown hair is twisted into a braid that coils on the top of her head like a crown.

“Devon?” I speak softly so as not to startle her, but the barely concealed flinch is still there as her head snaps up and our eyes meet.

“Wow.” She scoffs softly, closing her phone. “You look like you just waltzed in from some sort of gala.” Her amber eyes drift down my suit to my waist, then back up to my face. “You know the most expensive thing this place sells is pasta, right?”

“Is that judgment I hear?”

Sliding into the booth across from her, I set my gloves down on the table and quickly loosen the blue silk tie around my neck.

“I came straight here once my meetings wrapped up. My clothes weren’t on the forefront of my mind.”

“Clearly.” Her eyes linger on my tie as the knot slips free and I take an easier breath.

Pulling the fabric away from my neck, it balls in my hand while I undo the top two buttons of my shirt and sigh. “I’m glad you called.”

Her brows twitch together briefly and she nods. “I’m glad you came, even if you are kind of slumming it here.”