12. Money Never Lies

Jane

After a few days at Colton's house, I start to feel at home. I have this weird skill that lets me feel comfortable in a new environment pretty quickly. You don't really have a choice when you're bounced around so much as a kid. Truffles seems to be taking after me, because she is looking pretty confident in her surroundings. I keep her in my wing, as requested, but she navigates between the two bedrooms, the sitting room, and the bathroom. She particularly enjoys sleeping on the plush bath rug.

I haven't seen Colton much these past few days except at dinner time, which has been getting more awkward by the day. Agnes—who hates me—cooks for and eats with us every night. I once offered to relieve her of that duty, but she glared daggers at me. She might be in her mid-fifties, but I take her seriously. She clearly means business, and I wouldn't dare cross her or change the way things are done around here. Plus, as I quickly learned, you don't mess with the French and their food. Looks like Agnes is a creature of habit in this household.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic. I'm sure Agnes doesn't actually hate me. The fact that her eyes narrow into slits whenever I open my mouth could just be the way she shows affection? Or maybe it's just cultural differences.

Who am I kidding? She definitely hates me. Probably owing to the fact that I'm allergic to anything that comes from the sea, which happens to be Colton's favorite cuisine. Yesterday, she had to go to the store and invent an entirely new menu to accommodate my allergies. She wasn't exactly thrilled.

My shiny new smartphone vibrates on the coffee table in the sitting room. It's Colton.

"Hi," I say, picking up.

"Jane, can you be ready at four? We have to do a photoshoot," he grumbles.

Hello to you too. Also, what? "Why?"

"An engagement photoshoot is non-negotiable, apparently," he says in an exasperated tone. "Or maybe it's Max's way of getting back at me for something I've done."

I muffle my laughter, but I straighten up quickly as the idea sinks in. I don't want this any more than he does. "Where are we doing it?"

"In the backyard. It won't take long. They just want something for the engagement party invitations and for some magazine feature—don't ask," he says before I can speak. "None of this was my idea, and I hate it as much as you do. But once the word is out and we have the investors' attention, we'll get married quickly and bide our time before we can file for divorce."

"Wow, my fiancé is such a romantic," I tease.

"Listen, I don't have time right now. Just be ready, okay?"

"Yeah, what should I wear?"

"Max said there's no need to go shopping or anything. Wear something nice from your closet. The more relatable you seem, the better."

I nod, even though he can't see me. Sure. I can do relatable. "Okay, I—"

Before I can say more, he hangs up.

That's how it is with Colton. One minute he's talking to me and almost smiling, and the next he's barely giving me the time of day. Good thing he's not my real boyfriend, or I'd be losing my mind. Not that I really ever had a decent boyfriend—or wanted one, for that matter.

By four o'clock, I've changed outfits five times. I don't have a lot that screams "happily engaged to a billionaire," so I went for a simple blue floral dress that I know matches my eyes, pairing it with some white wedges. You can't get more relatable than that. I didn't do anything special to my hair, but I did apply some light makeup.

A knock on the bathroom door makes my heart rattle. "Yes?"

"Jane," Agnes says when I swing the door open. Her lips pinch as she looks me up and down. "The camera crew iz here for your engagement photoshoot."

With a huff, she spins back on her heels and struts away. The way she said it makes my skin prickle with annoyance, as if I was the one orchestrating the entire thing. She's in on the secret, and she knows Colton. So the fact that she thinks I have a say in any of this baffles me.

After one last look in the mirror, I hustle out of the room and meet the photographers outside. Colton isn't here yet, so I introduce myself to the two people unloading equipment onto the manicured lawn. Two workers hardly qualify as "a crew," but I notice Agnes has a way of overdramatizing stuff.

"We thought we could do it next to the pool with the city as a backdrop?" Amanda, the lead photographer, suggests.

"Or the house?" her colleague Rick adds as he cleans a big spotlight with a soft cloth.

I tap my chin, pretending this is an impossible decision. I'm sure it would be if it was a real engagement photoshoot. "Mmm. I don't know. I think the pool is pretty eye-catching, but we can ask Colton when he gets here." I glance at my plastic watch, which reminds me I should really take it off. This doesn't exactly scream "billionaire's fiancée." It's already four-fifteen. I hope he won't be too late.

At four forty-five, all the equipment is set up, and I'm perched on the edge of a lounger. Did my fake fiancé just blow off our fake engagement photoshoot for our fake wedding?

Who am I fooling? It doesn't matter how much I say the word "fake." The sinking feeling in my stomach is very real.

Colton

I glance at my Rolex and quicken the tapping of my foot on the marble floor, the sound interrupting the rhythm of the lobby music. "Is this going to be much longer?" I ask the sales associate. "I'm already late."

He adjusts his tie nervously. "Almost done, sir. Sorry to keep you waiting. My colleague is just finishing wrapping the package. Would you like to pay now?"

With a brusque nod, I take a deep breath and follow him to the register. He's not exactly to blame, I know that. I've been here for over an hour trying to find a ring for Jane. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Even if the wedding is fake, she should have a real ring to show the camera—and all the socialites that will be invited to our engagement party. Rich people never doubt money. If they see a big rock sparkling on her finger, they won't question the fact that they haven't seen her around or that our engagement was all a bit sudden. Money never lies.

Max offered to swing by the store and pick one up, or I could have just sent Agnes. But I thought I'd do it myself. It's just a ring, right? It shouldn't take long. Except I couldn't find anything I liked. The poor sales associate had already shown me dozens of rings before I finally saw it. A cushion-cut aquamarine stone, surrounded by pavé diamonds and set on a diamond-encrusted band. Elegant, simple, and the exact same color as Jane's eyes.

I wasn't sure of her size, but there was only one available anyway. We can always come back if it doesn't fit, and they'll order a new one.

Finally, the sound of clacking heels approaches from the back room, and the other sales associate appears with a small bag tied off with a bow. "Here's your package, Mr. Green." She places it delicately on my hand like a precious treasure.

"Thank you," I say before dashing out of the store. If I don't get home fast, this fake engagement might just be over before it starts.

"Sorry I'm late," I pant, jogging across the backyard. I called in the car to let Jane know I was on my way, but she wasn't very talkative. I'm guessing she's mad at me. "I'm here."

I take a moment to survey my backyard, which has been transformed into a professional photo studio. There are big lights on top of poles and a scattering of equipment on the floor near the pool.

"Hi, I'm Colton. Sorry to keep you waiting," I say, shaking both the photographers' hands. They smile politely and start to get ready. Turning around, I face Jane, and to my surprise, she doesn't really seem bothered by my tardiness.

"Are we ready to do this?" she asks, jumping to her feet. "I hope you won't be as late to the wedding."

Okay, maybe she's a little mad.

"I got you this," I whisper before planting a swift kiss on her cheek. My lips burn at the contact, and it might have left a trace, because she's rubbing the spot on her cheek. When I hand her the gift bag, her lips pull down in a frown.

"What's this?"

"Your engagement ring."

Her face doesn't reveal any expression as she pulls the small box out of the bag, but when she opens it, a gasp hits my ears. She stays silent, her gaze fixed on the ring.

I scratch my head. "Do you like it?"

"Please tell me this is some cheap knockoff, and you just got the packaging from the store," she hisses in a low whisper.

I draw my eyebrows together. "What? Of course not."

"Colton!" She scowls, grabbing a handful of my jacket. "I can't accept this. Why would you even buy this? We're pretending, remember?"

"It needs to look real," I say in my defense. "We're having a photoshoot. They're going to want to see the ring, and so will the people at the party. Trust me, those ladies can tell if a diamond is fake."

She relaxes a little but shakes her head. "This is crazy."

"Just wear the ring, and let's get this over with. They've been waiting for long enough," I whisper before turning to the photographers. "I'm sorry. I just picked it up from the jeweler's. We were having it resized," I explain, hoping that the damn ring fits.

By some kind of magic, it does, and it looks even better on Jane's delicate finger than it did in the store.

"Okay," Amanda chirps. "I say we get started. First, let's do a few just looking at the camera. Jane, place your hand on your fiancé's chest and show us that ring."

I naturally place my arm behind her, and she does as Amanda asked. Jane's hand is way too close to my heart, and I briefly wonder if she can feel it pounding like a sledgehammer.

"Great," Amanda says. "Now, hold hands and face each other?"

Swallowing hard, I take Jane's hand, and our eyes lock. Her flawless beauty hits me in full force once again. I know she's an actress, but I wonder whether she's ever modeled or considered that career path. A face like hers should be on every billboard and magazine cover. A small smile tugs at her lips, and she squeezes my hands, her way of reminding me to smile and act the part. Though I'm not sure what more I could do to look infatuated with Jane at this point. She makes it incredibly easy.

"Beautiful," Amanda coos, clicking away. Next, I make Jane twirl as if we were dancing, and it makes her laugh as she plays along. The sound is incredibly contagious.

After a while, Amanda scrolls through the shots on her camera screen. "Perfect. Can we do a few kissing?"