Page 84 of Morally Black Betrothal

Kylie had an adorable habit of naming all of her stuffed animals with their animal type first, followed by the most average names on the planet. Brown Bear Jeffrey. Bunny Sarah. Unicorn Tim was far and away the favorite.

“Yep. And Owl Ralph too.”

“Awesome.”

“Ky, go watch TV,” Selena said as she kicked off her—well,myshoes by the door. “Your aunt and I need to talk.”

I gave Kylie a kiss on the cheek, then dropped her on the ground so she could scurry onto my bed and catch up with whatever episode ofCliffordwas currently on PBS.

Selena joined me at my wardrobe. And based on her expression, she’d undoubtedly read the news.

“How was the job hunt?” I asked.

Selena looked down at the plain clothes she’d borrowed and tried to gussy up. My simple white blouse had been tied just above her navel, and the houndstooth blazer was rolled up at the sleeves. She looked like a middle school student trying to cosplay a “businesswoman” for a TikTok dance.

“How do you think?” She removed the jacket and hurled it on the bench atop the pile of clothes I’d already considered and ruled out for the evening.

I picked it up and rehung it. “Um, okay…but I have to ask: why pigtails for a job interview?”

My sister twirled one of her golden braids around her wrist. “Everyone says pigtails get more tips, so I figured insurance salesmen might like them too. Not when the wife works there, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sighed at my closet. “Tell you what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. About the weather. Or maybe about that giant rock on your finger. You’re gettingmarried?” She whipped out her phone. “Look at that.”

Gingerly, I took it. She’d pulled up an article featuring a picture of Brendan’s sudden “proposal” in his office, a photo clearly taken by someone in the office that someone—Ruth, probably—had provided to whatever tabloid the Blacks worked with in lieu of the photo ops that were supposed to happen today.

Honestly, this was probably better than anything I could have pretended. Him on one knee. Me covering my mouth in surprise.

God, he was handsome with that shock of coppery dark hair and dark green eyes. Better than any Disney prince I’d ever seen.

The shock and happiness on my face almost looked real.

Almost Realcould be the title of our entire story.

“Oh,” I said lightly. “That.”

“‘Oh, that,’” she mocked in a high falsetto. “You weren’t going to tell me you were dating the richest man on earth?” She lunged for my hand. “Holy shit, the man gave you a boulder. It’s as big as Taylor Swift’s.”

I pulled my hand back. “It’s just a ring.”

“That’s worth the earth.” She pouted. “I didn’t even know you knew this dude. Is this what you meant when you said you had figured things out? Isheyour new job?”

“Uh…” I contemplated whether I should tell her the truth or not.

Not. Definitely not.

And not just because the contract prohibited it. As guilty as it made me feel, there was the sad truth that while I didn’tthinkSelena would Meghan Markle me to the press…I couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t either.

It didn’t matter. I was legally bound to lie anyway. “Kind of, I guess. I just, um, needed to finish negotiating the prenup.”

It was the truth. Sort of.

“You lucky bitch.” Selena was back to scrolling through the article. “How did you even meet this gravy train?”

“Sel.”

“Correction: how did you meet your ‘soul mate’?”