1. Prologue

Colton

Patience is not my strong suit. Bouncing my knee under the desk, I crumple the heart-shaped flyer my marketing team designed for our latest campaign and refrain from tearing it to pieces.

"Why haven't we had any results yet?" I growl to my adviser, Max, who's looking a few shades paler than usual.

"I'm sorry, Colton. I'm doing everything I can. I know how important expanding to the Middle East market is, but I'm struggling to get investors to sit down and talk to me." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

I guess I should cut him some slack. After all, Max is my company's greatest asset. He's been my right hand for nearly five years, and he's crucial to my business. For a multinational company, research and development is as important as it is time consuming. And as the sole CEO, I simply don't have that time. That's why I place all my trust in Max Wolverton. Though right now, I'm starting to rethink that choice.

"It shouldn't be that hard," I say through gritted teeth. "The Love Connected app is blowing away the competition in North America, Europe, and Australia. We're the online dating leader in all those markets after all. Finding new investors should be a piece of cake!" My booming voice has risen an octave, and Max shudders a little. I know I'm scary when I yell—or so I've been told—but this is really getting on my nerves.

The truth is, I despise teamwork, which is why I don't onboard many investors. I'd rather do everything alone. That hasn't been an issue until now. But if I want to get my foot in the door of the Middle East markets, I need to find local investors to partner with. It's a requirement for foreign businesses. "It's been three months, Max! What's your excuse?"

Max fidgets with his watch, and a drop of sweat beads at his temple. He's getting paler by the second.

"Spill." I lean over the desk, my gaze piercing into his skull.

He clenches his eyes shut. "I think no one wants to invest because you're not married," he says in one breath.

My eyes widen as I lean into my brown leather chair. I open my mouth, then close it. "Are you kidding me?"

He shakes his head, not daring to meet my eyes. "I wish I was."

"This is ridiculous. What century are we living in?"

"The countries in that region are more conservative than most. They probably don't want to invest in a matchmaking company if the CEO himself isn't tied down. Especially since you're not, um, very private with your private life," he says, then clears his throat. "It doesn"t convey the right image."

I'm now on my feet, pacing around the luminous office. This has got to be a bloody joke. I created a one-of-a-kind algorithm, built a profitable company, and attracted more users than all the other matchmaking apps combined. And that's still not enough? Because I'm not married? I don't need to tie the knot to understand how people and compatibility work. This is outrageous. I rake a frustrated hand through my hair, not caring that I'll look like a madman once I'm done.

"Maybe . . ." Max peeps. "Maybe we could switch our focus to the South American market. Our analytics showed the potential was lower, but—"

"No," I cut in, slamming my hands on the desk. "We have a plan. We stick to it. I don't go for second best. The South American market isn't mature enough. The potential in the Middle East is huge, and we'll have few competitors there. That's where we're going."

"I'm not sure that'll be possible under these conditions. I have a few more names to contact, but I can already guess their answer."

I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm my outburst. The last thing I need is to scare my trusted adviser away. "What do you suggest, then?" I ask in a more subdued voice, watching the traffic slow on the palm-tree-lined boulevard outside. "You're the adviser. Please, advise."

He looks away, then glances back at me. "If you really want to pierce these markets, the fastest way would be to find a wife."

I can't bite back the laughter that bubbles up from my throat. But it's not a good-natured chuckle. It's a sarcastic laugh. A nervous laugh. A desperate laugh. Because there is no way I'm getting married.

"With all the girls you date, surely you have someone you'd be interested in settling down with?" His ghostly pallor has shifted to a tomato red, and I'm baffled by his newfound confidence.

"Max, let's be serious for a moment," I say, sitting back down. "I'm not the marriage type. I'm not even the boyfriend type. It's just not me."

"Fine." He brings his eyes to the ceiling, clearly wracking his brain for solutions. That's why Max is such a great asset. He's the ultimate problem solver. "Maybe there's a friend you could ask?"

Or maybe not. I fold my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow. I shouldn't have to tell him how short my list of friends is.

"What about Agnes?" he suggests.

I gape back at him, my eyes wide. "Agnes, as in my employee? You've got to be kidding! Absolutely not. I'm not marrying anyone."

"She would probably say yes. She's as loyal as they come. You can trust her."

I can't even picture marrying my head housekeeper of eight years. Agnes was my first house employee. She started when my business took off and I bought my current house in LA. I know I can trust her, but this? "I would never ask that of her. No, I wouldn't want to blur the lines. Plus, she's twenty years older than me."

He clasps his hands together. "Then we hire for the job. Make this an ultra-confidential gig with a contract and an NDA."

"I'm not going to buy myself a wife," I scoff, wrinkling my nose.

"She'd be a proper employee with a contract. Nothing sketchy."

I give him a pointed look. "Max, this is ridiculous."

He draws a sigh. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's not that uncommon. It's just so well-done that no one ever knows about it."

"And no one could! It would ruin a lot more than just our expansion. If word of this got out, the entire business would be done."

He raises his palms as if to pacify me. "Of course. That's why it'd be all tied up. The woman we hire would be under a strict contract. She wouldn't be able to breathe a word about this."

"Why would anyone agree to that?"

And why am I even entertaining the idea? This is ludicrous!

"For the money, of course. LA is full of wannabe actresses who can"t pay rent. Give her some money and a shot at getting cast in a movie just by being your arm candy at parties. We can even say you met on the Love Connected app and make a success story out of it. We'll charm the press by claiming it was love at first sight and perfect compatibility thanks to the algorithm. You'll start by seeing each other in public, then announce your engagement and plan a fast track wedding. Once you're married, you reel in your investors and start expanding into our target markets. Numbers showed that we'd be steadily profitable within two years. After that, you can end the marriage amicably."

"Won't the investors want to pull out when that happens?"

"It's a possibility, but since the company will be profitable in the new markets, it's unlikely they'd want to pull the plug on a businessman just because he couldn't make his marriage work."

I chew the inside of my cheek, planting my gaze deep into Max's. "You really think this could work?" Before he can respond, I answer myself. "This is so far-fetched. Everyone will see right through it."

"I don't think so. If you play your cards right—go on dates, get seen by the media, share your love story, and get married a few months later, it's plausible."

"How long before I could get married? If we do this, it needs to be sooner rather than later."

"I understand, but it'd look like a scam if you got married out of the blue when society is used to seeing you with a new girl every week."

I rake my fingers through my hair again. "Assuming we did this, how would we proceed?"

"I can talk to Jen, my girlfriend. She's an assistant in an indie studio. They have a lot of contacts, plus a studio we could use. That way, there is zero chance of someone tracing it back to Love Connected. We do a casting call. We won't say too much about the role, and obviously, your name will be left out of it."

The fact that I'm even considering this blows my mind. I've always been dedicated to my business. It's my life. I built this company from the ground up, and it was the ultimate American Dream success story—though no one knows about my past. But this is another level of dedication.

As doubts linger in my mind, I remember the promise I made to myself a long time ago. I will change my destiny. I will prove to myself—to the world—that I can do big things. That I'm worthy. No matter what anyone thinks. This is just another brick in the process.

"Fine, but I'm choosing the person I'm going to marry."

"Of course," Max says, a chuckle escaping his lips as relief floods his face. "I'd expect no less. You're the boss. Since you'll be living with this girl, you need to make sure she's a good fit."

"Live with her?" I almost choke on my saliva. "Are you serious?"

He winces. "Well, no one would believe you're actually engaged, and then married, if you don't live together."

I clench my fists on the desk, my jaw tight. This is even harder than the marriage part. I don't like people in my space. My house is my safe haven. Sure, I've had my friends Andrew and Wade over once when I first moved to LA, but that's it. The only other people who have seen the inside of my house are my housekeeping staff, and the only person who has spent significant time there is Agnes, my head housekeeper.

"Look, we don't have to do any of this," Max says, interrupting my thoughts. "It's your call. There are other ways to grow the business."

I pause to think about it, but I already know my answer. I'm an analytical man, after all. Max and the RD team spent hours researching all the possible next steps for the company. Expanding to new markets, specifically the Middle East, was by far the best result they got. My marketing team is already working on the project. It would have been a colossal waste of time, money, and resources if we switched gears now in favor of something less profitable. No, I can do this. It's just another contract. No way will I let this slow me down.

"Call your girlfriend, Max. We're doing this."