Chapter 1 - The Man at the Corner Table
“I need a boyfriend by tomorrow.”
Maya Bennett whispered the sentence into her phone behind the marble counter of the Bellmont Café in downtown Seattle, then immediately wished she could pull the words back into her mouth.
Unfortunately, desperation didn’t come with an undo button.
Neither did family weddings.
Maya turned her shoulder toward the dining room and lowered her voice.
“I’m serious, Chloe. Tomorrow. Three o’clock. Preferably someone tall, reasonably attractive, socially functional, and capable of pretending he likes me for twenty-four hours.”
Her best friend laughed through the phone.
Maya did not.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“My entire family thinks I’ve been dating Daniel for three months.”
“The imaginary Daniel?”
“He wasn’t imaginary when I hired him.”
“That sentence isn’t helping.”
Maya squeezed her eyes shut.
Three weeks earlier, after one particularly brutal family dinner in which Aunt Judith had spent forty-five minutes discussing Maya’s nonexistent love life, Maya had made a terrible decision.
She had invented a boyfriend.
Then, because her cousin Olivia’s wedding was approaching, she had hired an acquaintance named Daniel Mercer to play the part.
The arrangement had been simple.
Attend one wedding.
Smile for photographs.
Tell Aunt Judith that Maya was wonderful.
Disappear gracefully afterward.
Daniel had canceled that morning.
Food poisoning, supposedly.
Maya suspected the real reason was the woman whose Instagram story currently showed Daniel drinking margaritas in Cabo San Lucas.
“I’m going to die,” Maya whispered.
“You’re not going to die.”
“My mother already added Daniel to the seating chart.”
“Tell them he got sick.”
“Aunt Judith will spend the entire reception telling everyone she knew he wasn’t real.”
“So?”
“So I would rather be struck by lightning.”
Across the café, a man slowly lowered his tablet.
Maya didn’t notice.
Mason Reed occupied the same corner table he used several times each week.
He was impossible not to notice under ordinary circumstances.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Dark hair swept neatly back.
A carefully trimmed beard that made him look more like the dangerous supporting character in an expensive television drama than a man who ordered espresso at four in the afternoon.
His charcoal suits probably cost more than Maya’s car.
He always ordered the same thing.
Double espresso.
No sugar.
No food.
He tipped absurdly well and spoke very little.
Maya knew him only as Mr. Reed.
Some kind of investor.
Apparently wealthy.
Definitely intimidating.
And, at that moment, listening.
“Okay,” Chloe said through the phone. “Worst case, go alone.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“You weren’t at Thanksgiving.”
“That bad?”
“Aunt Judith asked if my biological clock had a snooze button.”
Chloe groaned.
“Exactly.”
Maya glanced toward the tables.
Nobody seemed to be paying attention.
Mason immediately returned his eyes to his tablet.
“I just need one normal man,” Maya whispered. “Someone who can wear a suit, shake my father’s hand, and survive Aunt Judith.”
At the corner table, Mason’s eyebrow moved almost imperceptibly.
“I’ll figure something out,” Maya said.
She ended the call.
For several seconds, she simply stood behind the counter.
Then she inhaled deeply, tucked her phone into her apron, and put her customer-service smile back on.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Back to reality.”
She turned.
Mason Reed was standing directly across the counter.
Maya jumped.
“Mr. Reed.”
“Ms. Bennett.”
He knew her last name.
That shouldn’t have surprised her. It was printed on her employee badge.
Still, something about the way he said it made her straighten.
“Another espresso?”
“No.”
“Check?”
“No.”
Maya waited.
Mason’s face was calm.
Almost unnervingly calm.
“I have a proposal.”
She blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“I overheard your conversation.”
Heat rushed immediately into her cheeks.
“That was private.”
“Yes.”
“And you listened?”
“Accidentally at first.”
Maya stared at him.
“And after that?”
A pause.
“Deliberately.”
Behind the espresso machine, Maya’s coworker Serena stopped polishing a cup.
Maya folded her arms.
“What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Reed?”
Mason leaned slightly closer.
Not enough to invade her space.
Just enough to lower his voice.
“Tell your family you’re bringing me.”
A metal spoon hit the floor behind Maya.
Serena had dropped it.
Neither Maya nor Mason looked away from each other.
“You’re offering to pretend to be my boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“For my cousin’s wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Maya studied his face for evidence that this was some elaborate joke.
There was none.
“Why?”
For the first time since she had met him months ago, Mason Reed almost smiled.
“Curiosity.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is for me.”
Maya shook her head.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you work six days most weeks.”
Her expression changed.
“I know you give the leftover pastries to the homeless shelter two blocks east instead of throwing them away.”
Maya’s arms slowly unfolded.
“I know you remember every regular customer’s order, including mine.”
“Double espresso isn’t exactly difficult.”
“I know you replaced Mrs. Carmichael’s broken umbrella last month and told her someone had turned it into lost-and-found.”
Maya stared at him.
She had paid for that umbrella herself.
“How did you know that?”
“I notice things.”
That answer somehow made him more mysterious.
Maya stepped closer.
“What do you actually do?”
“Investments.”
“That vague?”
“Private capital. Acquisitions. Logistics.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Private.”
“That was incredibly unhelpful.”
“I’m aware.”
Maya narrowed her eyes.
“Criminal record?”
Mason paused.
Just slightly.
But long enough.
Maya pointed at him.
“That pause was way too long.”
His expression barely changed.
“I’ve never been convicted of anything.”
Serena made a choking noise behind the espresso machine.
Maya stared at him.
“That is absolutely not the same thing as saying no.”
“No,” Mason agreed.
“Are you dangerous?”
His eyes held hers.
“To you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The certainty of the answer caught her off guard.
Maya lowered her voice.
“Why would a billionaire—or whatever you are—want to spend Saturday pretending to date a café waitress?”
His gaze sharpened.
“Who told you I was a billionaire?”
“Nobody.”
“Then why say it?”
“Your watch probably has its own insurance policy.”
His mouth twitched.
“And you once tipped me two hundred dollars because I remembered you hated cinnamon.”
“You remembered.”
“That doesn’t make the tip normal.”
“Perhaps I’m generous.”
“Perhaps you’re weird.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Maya laughed before she could stop herself.
It changed something between them.
For a second, Mason Reed no longer looked intimidating.
He simply looked like a man who had unexpectedly enjoyed making her laugh.
Then his phone vibrated.
Mason glanced down.
One message.
His expression changed instantly.
Not dramatically.
But Maya saw it.
The warmth disappeared.
He typed three words and put the phone away.
“Where is the wedding?”
“Why?”
“If I’m attending, I need the location.”
Maya hesitated.
“The Hawthorne Estate. Outside Woodinville.”
“What time?”
“Ceremony at three.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
Her eyebrows shot upward.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m not giving a man who answers criminal-record questions like a defense attorney my home address.”
“Reasonable.”
Maya hadn’t expected that.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Also reasonable.”
“And we need rules.”
Mason checked his watch.
“How many?”
“A lot.”
“I have dinner at seven.”
“Then sit down.”
For the next twenty minutes, Maya Bennett negotiated the strangest agreement of her life.
No unnecessary touching.
No embarrassing stories.
No lying about marriage.
No threatening relatives.
That one made Mason raise an eyebrow.
“I don’t generally threaten relatives.”
“You haven’t met Aunt Judith.”
“I look forward to it.”
“No expensive gifts.”
“Define expensive.”
“Anything that makes my father ask questions.”
“That definition is subjective.”
“No helicopters.”
Mason actually looked confused.
“Why would I bring a helicopter?”
“You look like a helicopter person.”
Serena turned away so Maya wouldn’t see her laughing.
Finally, Mason stood.
“One condition.”
Maya frowned.
“You have conditions?”
“One.”
“What?”
“If someone asks how we met, we tell the truth.”
“The truth?”
“That we met here.”
“That’s suspiciously normal.”
“I occasionally am.”
Maya extended her hand.
“Twenty-four hours.”
Mason looked at it.
Then took it.
His hand was warm.
His grip controlled and surprisingly gentle.
“Twenty-four hours.”
For some reason, Maya’s heartbeat changed.
She immediately pulled her hand back.
“This is fake.”
“Obviously.”
“You don’t flirt with me.”
“Would that make you uncomfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Then I won’t.”
“You don’t kiss me.”
His eyes remained on hers.
“Understood.”
“And after tomorrow, everything goes back to normal.”
A small silence followed.
“Of course,” Mason said.
Maya ignored the strange disappointment those two words created.
The next morning, she woke to seventeen messages from her mother.
By eleven thirty, she was dressed in a pale blue wedding-guest dress, her hair pinned softly behind her head.
At 11:52, she drove toward Hawthorne Estate.
At 12:07, she turned through the stone gates.
Then she slammed on the brakes.
Three black SUVs were parked along the circular driveway.
Men in dark suits stood discreetly near the entrance.
Another was speaking into an earpiece beside the garden.
Her cousin’s wedding coordinator looked ready to faint.
Maya lowered her window.
“What happened?”
The coordinator hurried toward her.
“Maya, thank God.”
“What?”
“Who exactly is your date?”
Maya’s stomach dropped.
Before she could answer, the rear door of the center SUV opened.
Mason Reed stepped out.
Dark navy suit.
Burgundy tie.
Perfectly calm.
Every suited man near the estate subtly turned toward him.
Maya climbed from her car.
“Mason.”
He looked at her.
For half a second, his composure slipped.
His eyes moved over her pale blue dress.
“You look beautiful.”
“Why are there three SUVs?”
His expression returned to neutral.
“Security.”
“For what?”
“For me.”
Maya stared at the men surrounding her cousin’s wedding venue.
“You said you were an investor.”
“I am.”
“You said logistics.”
“Also true.”
“You neglected the part where apparently the Secret Service attends brunch with you.”
“They aren’t government agents.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
Mason glanced toward a man near the gate and gave one small nod.
The man immediately spoke into his sleeve.
Maya caught the movement.
Then she looked back at Mason.
“Mason.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
For the first time, the billionaire seemed to consider lying.
Then he stepped closer.
His voice dropped.
“There are several things I’m not telling you.”
Maya’s stomach tightened.
Behind them, another vehicle approached the gates.
Mason looked toward it.
His entire expression changed.
And Maya realized the security detail hadn’t come merely because Mason Reed was wealthy.
They were expecting someone.
Someone Mason clearly did not want anywhere near her family.
May you like
And the wedding hadn’t even started yet.
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