Almost.

  “Okay, I didn’t think the plane was going to be this badass!”

  This is the first thing I say upon seeing the Wilder private jet. It’s amazing. There are oversized leather chairs, a freaking couch, a giant TV mounted on the wall, and there’s even a small dining table set for eight, right next to the mother truckin’ kitchen.

  “You like it?” Alex sounds amused. I think I’ve consistently amused him since we left my apartment. I’m acting like a total travel noob, but come on. I’ve never traveled like this before. I would say the majority of people in this entire world haven’t traveled like this before either.

  It’s kind of awesome.

  “I love it,” I tell him as I wander to the back of the plane. There’s a bedroom back there. Two of them! And a decent-sized bathroom. “Oh my gosh, we can sleep in a bed back here? Get out.”

  “I told you we would be flying comfortably,” Alex reminds me.

  An understatement, for sure. “Wow.” I stop talking when I spot a woman standing just behind Alex, clad in a black skirt suit and a crisp white shirt.

  “Good evening Mr. Wilder, Ms. Abbott. Welcome to tonight’s flight. My name is Heather and I’ll be your personal attendant for the duration of your trip to Paris. I do hope you’ve found the accommodations to your liking so far?”

  “Everything is perfect, Heather. Thank you,” Alex says, the epitome of professionalism. I could learn a thing or two from him, instead of blurting out the word badass when describing this plane.

  “There is meal service on this flight, both a late dinner and breakfast about an hour before we land.” Heather smiles, revealing perfect straight white teeth. “Would you care for anything to drink as we prepare for takeoff?”

  Alex sends me a look before answering for the both of us. “Water will be fine for us both for now, thank you.”

  Heather nods and leaves us, heading to the kitchen at the front of the plane.

  “I didn’t think you wanted any more alcohol this evening,” Alex says to me after she’s gone.

  “You’re right.” I’m feeling way too relaxed. My head is even a little spinny. I probably need to eat something soon. “Do you think Heather has any snacks? I probably drank too much vodka on an empty stomach.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll go ask her for something to snack on right now.” Alex leaves me to go speak with Heather, and the moment I’m alone, I whip out my phone and start taking photos. I have to share this plane with my girls.

  I open up the group chat we have and send the photos. The responses are immediate.

  That’s what your flying on???!!!

  Rich bitch!

  So jelly!

  When I send a photo of the bedroom with the full-size bed, they all lose their shit. Lots of emojis and gifs, and the best response from Stella.

  Are you going to have sex with him on that bed?? You ho!

  I immediately text back. Of course I’m not having sex with him on that bed. I’m a lady.

  Then I send my most used emoji, the crying laughing one. More funny gifs and emojis come at me in response.

  I seriously love my friends so much.

  Once I’ve finished texting, I walk out of the bedroom to find Alex sitting in one of the comfy-looking chairs, waiting for me. There’s an identical chair that faces his, with a small table in between. There are two glasses of ice water on the table, as well as a tray filled with an array of yummy snacks. My stomach growls as I sit in the chair and I grab the glass closest to me, taking a sip of water before I reach for a handful of nuts from a small cup.

  “They’re warm,” I tell Alex before popping them in my mouth.

  “That’s first class treatment right there,” he says.

  “I’ve never flown first class before, so I wouldn’t know.” I’m hit with how my lifestyle is completely different from his. As a kid, we didn’t have much. A nurse’s assistant salary doesn’t go too far when our mom is supporting herself and two kids. We scraped by.

  As soon as Carter was old enough, he got a job. Same with me, plus I took babysitting jobs before that. Any and all money I earned went to my necessities. Clothes and shoes and stuff like that. I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and same with my brother.

  Alex has no idea what it’s like, to live like that. Yes, he has responsibility and has to help run a corporation, but those things were handed to him.

  Nothing has ever been handed to me.

  “Caroline, I want to thank you again for doing this for me,” Alex says, his gaze meeting mine when I glance up. “I know this next week won’t be easy, having to pretend we’re together for the sake of the Descheaux family and for my family’s future. I’ll owe you a lot when this trip is finished. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  His words, the expression on his face, are heartbreakingly sincere.

  “It’s okay.” I smile. “You’re taking me to Paris. I think that’s payment enough.”

  “I’m taking you to Paris and forcing you to play a part in something that’s not real.” His gaze drops from mine for a moment as he hangs his head. Almost as if he’s…ashamed? “I’m asking you to lie for me. And that’s not really fair.”

  Heather comes over the intercom and asks us to buckle our seatbelts, as the plane is preparing to depart. Once we’re buckled in, I decide to ask some questions. Questions I probably should’ve asked a few days ago, when he first proposed this idea, but oh well. I guess I got a little too excited.

  “What exactly are we doing while we’re in Paris?”

  “I’ll be in meetings mostly. I’ll need you with me during the evening, when we’ll be entertaining with the Descheauxs. Dinners out I’m thinking, probably nothing more.” He pauses, his expression telling me he’s going to say something that might make me uncomfortable. “You’ll need to be extra attentive, and act as if you like me.”

  Please. That won’t be difficult.

  “I don’t think I told you, but we’re staying at the Ritz. I want to scope out the competition while we’re there, and they’re the best of the best. We’ll have a suite, with separate beds, of course.”

  “Of course,” I say with a quick nod, my hands gripping the chair’s armrests when I feel the plane swing round. “I guess we’re taking off.”

  “You still a little anxious?”

  “Not too bad. The alcohol has taken the edge off.” I smile, but it feels a little shaky, so I let it fall. Instead, I reach for a slice of cheese and nibble on it. “I hope Heather serves dinner soon.”

  “Once we’re at flying altitude, she’ll feed us.” His gaze is intense as he watches me, and it’s like I’m on display. I try to relax my grip on the armrests as best as possible, but I’m not a fan of taking off. I never have been. At least the seats are comfortable. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?”

  “Okay with what? The flight? A little too late to ask now,” I tease.

  “No, I mean all of this. Our trip, and what I need you to do. You might end up spending a lot of time alone. But you’re more than welcome to explore Paris. I don’t expect you to sit in the suite all day long,” Alex says.

  “I definitely plan on exploring.” Though it won’t be much fun seeing it alone. I knew what I was going into, though, so I can’t complain. “I want to see as much as possible while I’m there.”

  “It’s a beautiful city with plenty to see.” His smile is wistful. “I’m jealous of your freedom.”

  There’s the difference between Alex and me. While everything has been given to him, he’s still worked very hard to ensure his family’s business is successful. He’s beholden to it. No matter what, he can’t shake it. He’s obliged to Wilder Corporation whether he wants to be or not.

  I’m beholden to no one. If I wanted to, I could return to Carmel, quit my job, and do whatever I wanted. It’s my choice. And I have plenty.

  It seems as if Alex has no choice at all.

  Twenty-Three

  Alex

  We arrive in Paris a little over ten hours after takeoff, the flight a long but comfortable ride, and even a little faster than usual thanks to the plane catching a tailwind. Caroline was tired from consuming so much alcohol on the charter plane to Los Angeles, so after Heather served us dinner, Caroline decided to take a quick shower and go to bed.

  Yes, the plane has a shower that you can use for no longer than five minutes. Caroline was completely dazzled by this fact.

  She’s been dazzled by the entire private jet experience, and I’ve enjoyed watching her excitement. She’s never flown on a plane like this before. She’s never flown first class, for Christ’s sake, and our differences have never been more apparent as they were last night.

  Long after she went to sleep, I stayed awake. I worked some, but all I could think about was Paris, and what we needed to do. Meeting with the Descheauxs, who I hardly know. I spoke with Alain Descheaux on the phone during a conference call a few weeks ago. And we had a video conference once, with Louis, the remaining surviving son, in attendance. They were both perfectly polite, but I know nothing about them.

  Nothing.

  After taking a five-minute shower, I try my best to sleep, but I toss and turn for hours, eventually gaining a couple hours of restless sleep. I finally give in and get out of bed, change into my clothes for the day, and settle into my chair with a cup of coffee and fresh fruit served by an always smiling Heather.

  Father gave me a dossier file on the Descheaux family for me to study, and I pull it from my briefcase, open the file to find fact sheets on a couple members of the family.

  I read up on Alain’s life first. His father is the one who opened the first Descheaux hotel, but he passed years ago, before I was born. Alain has been married to Juliet for almost forty years, and they have one remaining son, Louis. He’s the one who I’m most curious about.

  Louis is a few years older than I am—thirty-four—and he’s married to a beautiful woman who was once the muse for Karl Lagerfeld and Chanel. Manon Descheaux is considered one of the most stylish women in all of Paris, and she’s a popular influencer on Instagram, with over a million followers.

  Jesus, that’s intimidating. I’m supposed to let Caroline spend one-on-one time with this elegant, most sought after woman in France while I try my best to convince Alain and Louis that Wilder is the best company to go with? Manon has the capability to tear Caroline to shreds if Caroline doesn’t watch out.

  But she’s dealt with Tiffany, for the love of God. And she deals with crazed bridezillas every day at Noteworthy. Surely she can handle a rich French woman for a few hours every night while we dine together.

  Sighing, I close the file and stare out the small plane window, boggled yet again as to why the Descheauxs are wanting to get rid of the building that once housed one of the greatest hotels in all of Paris. It’s a valuable piece of property, but their focus is no longer hospitality, and hasn’t been for years. They sold the other two hotels in the city years ago, not long after the oldest son, Hugo, died, and made a fortune on both of those sales. Alain has long since retired, retreating to his country estate in Versailles and withdrawing from public life. Louis went on to marry the infamous Manon in what was called the wedding of the year in 2012, and they now have two children together.

  The building we want is a prime piece of real estate. If they were smart, they’d hold onto it and lease it. Make more of a fortune that way.

  Not that I would want them to do that. We would never lease. Father wants to own all of the Wilder hotels, and I feel the same way. Leasing is not an option. We own, or we pass.

  Simple as that.

  “Good morning.”

  I glance up to find Caroline shuffling toward me, clad in a white robe, her hair mussed, her eyes sleepy. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “Pretty good, considering I slept in a bed on a freaking plane.” She grins and rolls her eyes. “I still have zero chill about being on a private jet.”

  “Wait until you see the hotel we’re staying at,” I warn her. “Your chill will disappear completely.”

  Her eyes bug out a little at that promise. “I can’t even imagine, can I?”

  I shake my head. “No, you can’t. I’ve been in the hotel business for years, and I still can’t believe how amazing the Ritz is.” I gesture to the table. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I would, please.” She settles in across from me, the flap of her robe opening a bit, offering me a glimpse of her long, smooth legs. I wonder what she’s got on underneath that robe. Doesn’t appear to be much. “The strawberries are good,” she says after she pops one in her mouth and chews.

  “Heather will serve us more. She was waiting for you to wake up first,” I tell her.

  Caroline pours herself some coffee, then adds some creamer until it’s practically white, and sprinkles in a tiny bit of sugar before she grabs a spoon and stirs, the utensil tinkling every time it hits the interior of the cup. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

  “You haven’t. I’ve been doing some work.”

  She brings the cup to her lips, blows on the coffee before taking a sip. “Always working, aren’t you?” she says, amusement lacing her still sleepy voice.

  It’s a sexy voice. Actually Caroline first thing in the morning is a sexy package. One I wouldn’t mind opening on a daily basis…

  I blink, banishing the idea from my mind. Where did that thought come from? Yes, I’m attracted to her, but I shouldn’t have thoughts of her in my life on a daily basis. I just ended my engagement. I do not need to leap into another relationship so quickly, no matter how attractive I think Caroline is.

  “That’s the whole point of us going to Paris, isn’t it? For me to work,” I remind her, my voice sharp. Too sharp.

  Now it’s her turn to blink, and I wonder if I was too harsh with my response. “You’re right,” she says coolly. “We’re here for business. Nothing more.”

  “Caroline.” I reach across the table and grab hold of her hand, loosely joining our fingers together. “I’m sorry. I’m just—tense about this trip, and worried I’m going to let my father down if I don’t finalize this deal.”

  “It’s okay,” she says softly, her slender fingers tightening around mine. “You’re under enormous pressure. I don’t need to add to it.”

  “You’re not adding to it.” I squeeze her hand, not willing to let go of her yet. “I’m just—touchy.”

  She smiles, and the sight of it makes my skin go hot. “No man ever likes to admit he’s touchy.”

  “No,” I chuckle. “We don’t.”

  Heather chooses that moment to appear with our breakfast. “Good morning, Ms. Abbott,” she greets Caroline, leaning over the table to shift the plate of fresh fruit before she sets the tray she’s holding down. “I heard your voice and thought it best to serve breakfast now. We’re scheduled to land in Paris in little over an hour.”

  The excitement on Caroline’s face is clear. “I can’t believe we’re almost there. What time will it be when we land?”

  “Around two-thirty in the afternoon,” Heather tells her before she flashes her polite smile in my direction. “Is there anything else the two of you need?” When we both shake our heads, she takes a step back. “I’ll clear your plates in about thirty minutes or so. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  I lift the silver dome from my plate to find scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon and country breakfast potatoes. Caroline is already reaching for a slice of sourdough toast from the plate we’re sharing, munching on it thoughtfully.

  “I could get used to this,” she says, her voice teasing, and I’m tempted to tell her that she should.

  But that would be me rushing things. I don’t plan on doing that. I should learn from my experience with Tiffany.

  Hurrying a relationship along is dangerous.

  We’re in the backseat of the Mercedes I hired to take us to the hotel when I remember.

  “I need to give you something,” I tell Caroline, whose face is practically plastered to the window as she watches the city streets go rushing by.

  She turns to look at me, her beautiful brown eyes wide with wonder. “What is it?”

  I slipped it inside my briefcase before we left yesterday, and I reach for it now, pulling the cream-colored silk pouch out, holding it flat on my palm. Her gaze zeroes in on the pouch, lingering there before she looks up at me. “For me?” she asks when I don’t say anything.

  Tugging at the drawstrings, I open the pouch. “Hold out your hand,” I say.

  She does as I ask, and I shake the bag, the ring falling onto her palm. “Oh,” she murmurs, her fingers curving around the band and holding it up so she can see the ring in its full glory. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It was my mother’s engagement ring.” She switched it out for the larger ring my father gave her on their twenty-fifth anniversary, storing this ring in her safe at the house for one of us children to use it someday. Meredith didn’t want it, her husband having chosen her engagement ring on his own. James doesn’t plan on getting married anytime soon. I’ve known for a while it was going to be mine.

  This is the ring I considered giving to Tiffany, but she would’ve hated it. It’s a simple round solitaire diamond sitting high on a gold band, worn thin from years of wear. The stone is flawless, two carats, and while plenty of women would’ve loved having a two-carat diamond on their finger, I knew without hesitation that Tiffany would’ve deemed it too small. Too old.

  But Caroline is studying the ring with reverence, turning it this way and that as she clasps the thin band between her fingers. “She wore it a long time, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, she did.” For some reason I almost feel…emotional? Sentimental? After giving Caroline this ring. “I thought you should wear it while we’re here. My fake fiancée needs an engagement ring.”

  “Yes, you’re. right. She does.” Is that disappointment flitting across her face? It almost looks like it.