Chapter 5

Sophia

A Show They'll Never Forget

By late afternoon, I was a stranger to myself.

Sharon had been relentless.

I had been poked, prodded, waxed, and shorn.

My long tangled hair was gone, replaced by a sleek, killer bob that brushed my shoulders and made my neck look a mile long.

My face had been polished to a glow I didn't know I possessed.

I returned to Mr Ashford's house in a dress of deep blue silk that felt like a second skin, followed by maids carrying a mountain of shopping bags.

I look like the woman Daphne spends all night crying about in her diary.

I thought, catching my reflection in the glass front doors.

As the maids bustled away with the bags, my phone buzzed in my new, overpriced clutch.

I glanced at the screen and felt a wave of relief.

I moved to the foyer and hit accept.

"Hey, Mrs Potts."

"Sophia, dear! I was just calling to let you know Summer is tucked in safe,"

My neighbor's kind voice came through.

"Oh, alright. I hope she didn't give you too much trouble?"

"Not at all. She was quite a darling and had some apple slices and crackers, and now she's crashed out on the sofa. Jeremy is right next to her finishing his long division. You know how they are."

"You're a lifesaver, Mrs Potts. Truly. Is it okay if I'm back a bit later tonight? Things ran over with… work."

"Don't you worry about a thing, honey. She's fine right where she is. You just do what you need to do and drive safe, you hear?"

"I will. Thank you so much. Give her a kiss for me if she wakes up."

"I will. Bye dear."

"Bye, Mrs Potts."

I hung up, feeling the familiar tug of guilt mixed with gratitude.

With an exhale I entered the living room.

Mr Ashford was seated by the fireplace, a glass of dark red wine in his hand.

He looked up as I entered, and for the first time, he just stared.

"Did you leave anything in the stores for the rest of the population?" He asked, though his eyes were roaming over my new silhouette.

"Barely," I said, setting my bags down. "Did I make a massive hole in your bank account?"

"Not even close," he said easily. "It's money well spent. You look… legitimate. Sharon really is a miracle worker."

"That must feel good to say," I teased.

​"It does feel good," he admitted with a genuine smile, revealing his dimples.

"Wine?"

"I'd love to,"

He poured me a glass and handed it to me.

I took a sip, the rich warmth settling my nerves.

I can't recall the last time I drank wine. Especially one as good as this.

"Can I ask you a question, Mr Ashford?"

"Fire away,"

"If you don't mind my asking.. Why are you doing this? I mean all of this… spending all that crazy amount of money and opting for a fake fiancée when you're quite capable of a real one."

I asked, my inquisitive streak rearing up its head because truth be told I don't understand it myself.

But one thing I do know is that I desperately need the money.

"I already answered that question yesterday. But I'll answer it one more time. Personal reasons."

His voice held that note of finality just like yesterday.

"Would you mind if I asked what those reasons are?" I asked carefully.

He looked at me with a charming smile.

"That skeleton doesn't need company,"

Oh.. kay

And just like that, my nosiness was extinguished.

He drains the rest of the wine and sets his wineglass on the table.

"Now, sit, let's get to work. What do you like? Favorite color? Food? Your biggest pet peeves?"

I sat on the edge of the sofa, thinking.

"My favorite color's blue. My favorite food is… I prefer anything Middle Eastern food but I love seafood too," I answered, counting with my fingers.

"Middle Eastern? That's a weird choice."

"I know right? My Dad rubbed off on me. He fell in love with Middle Eastern cuisine after spending a year in Egypt. When he returned home, he continued and I just fell in love." I explained.

"I see,"

"About my likes and dislikes… Well, there are a lot of them. I'm not sure where to start."

"Start anywhere,"

"I'll make you a list. It'll be easier. How about you? What are your… dislikes, Mr Ashford?"

"Dirt," he said instantly.

I should have known.

Does he have beef with dirt?

"I hate dirty surroundings. I hate deceit. I hate liars—"

He paused, a wry smile touching his lips.

"Actually, I'll make you a list as well. It'll be a long ass one."

"Okay. Your favorite color?"

"White," he replied.

"Favorite food?"

"Lasagna,"

"Do you have siblings?"

"I do,"

I never knew that.

"How many are they?"

"Seven,"

"That must feel nice, right? Having lots of siblings?"

I envy that.

I'm stuck with that bruja pequeña.

(Little witch)

"Something like that,"

I nodded, taking another nervous sip of my wine.

A comfortable silence fell between us, the crackle of the fire filling the room.

I looked down at the diamond on my finger.

"So… we're really doing this? Behaving like we're in love? Doing everything real couples do?"

"That's the whole idea,"

"Everything? The kissing? All that public display of affection? The affectionate nicknames? The… physical stuff?"

Mr Ashford nodded.

"God, it'll be so weird kissing my boss,"

Mr Ashford tapped the empty space on the sofa right next to him.

"Come here."

I hesitated, then slid over.

He reached out, his hand settling on the small of my back, pulling me firmly against his side until I was practically resting on his hard chest.

The scent of sandalwood, mandarin and wine was overwhelming.

"First, stop calling me 'sir' it's just Andrew." He murmured his charcoal eyes locked on mine.

"Second, you have to learn to be comfortable around me. If we're at an event and you shrink away or jump every time I touch you, the game is up. We have to be effortless."

Effortless.

Easy for him to say.

He's used to being touched by beautiful women.

I'm used to being touched by briars and barn doors.

"Okay… Andrew." I whispered. "And what's the third thing?"

He didn't answer with words.

He leaned in, his mouth meeting mine in a kiss that tasted like expensive Cabernet.

Hold on a minute.

I pulled away, my eyes meeting his.

"Wait, we're kissing right now?"

"Practice makes perfect," he grinned.

"Oh, you're very correct—"

He cut my words off with his mouth once more.

Oh shit…

It wasn't a "business" kiss. It was deep, slow, and devastatingly thorough that I leaned in, my hand catching his shoulder.

By the time he pulled away, my head was spinning.

Mr— Andrew's eyes were darker, more intense.

He cleared his throat, his hand lingering on my waist.

"That was a good start."

"It was… okay?" I managed to ask, my voice breathless.

"Mhmm. But the real test is coming up."

"What test?"

"We'll be having dinner with your family this weekend."

​"What? That fast?"

"We need to start the 'convincing' from somewhere. And what better place to start than your family?"

My face broke out in a mischievous smile.

"Alright. Let's go give them a show they'll never forget."