Chapter 4 - The Rules of Pretending
At four fifteen, Marin stood in front of her bedroom mirror wearing one earring and questioning every decision she had made since birth.
The dress was pale blue.
Clara had chosen it months earlier.
Simple neckline. Fitted waist. Soft fabric falling to mid-calf.
It had seemed perfectly harmless when Marin bought it.
Tonight it felt like a costume.
Her mother called.
Marin stared at the screen.
Then answered.
“Hi.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Still?”
“The dinner starts at six.”
“It’s already after four.”
“Boston has not become a three-hour drive from the South End.”
Evelyn sighed.
“Are you upset?”
“No.”
“About Bennett?”
“No.”
“Marin.”
“Mom.”
A pause.
“I only invited him because his parents are still close with your father.”
“I know.”
“And Clara said it was fine.”
“I know.”
“We didn’t want to make things awkward.”
Marin stared at her reflection.
“It stopped being awkward when he decided to bring the woman he left me for.”
“Technically, he met Celeste—”
“Mom.”
Silence.
Evelyn softened.
“I worry about you.”
“I know.”
“You work all the time.”
“I own a business.”
“You never let anyone take care of you.”
There it was.
The sentence that had haunted Marin most of her life.
You never let anyone take care of you.
People said it as though independence were a personality defect.
As though she had become capable by accident rather than necessity.
“I’m bringing someone tonight,” Marin said.
Silence.
Then:
“What?”
“A date.”
“A date?”
“Yes.”
“What date?”
“A person-shaped one.”
“Marin Whitlock.”
She smiled despite herself.
“His name is Adrian.”
“How long have you been seeing him?”
The lie came exactly as rehearsed.
“A few months.”
“A few months?”
“I wanted to make sure it was serious before I involved everybody.”
Marin immediately regretted the word serious.
Her mother inhaled so sharply Marin heard it.
“Serious?”
“Mom, please don’t.”
“What does he do?”
“Business.”
“What kind?”
“Investments.”
“Is he from Boston?”
“Yes.”
“What’s his last name?”
Marin closed her eyes.
“Vale.”
Silence.
Not normal silence.
Recognition.
“Mom?”
“Adrian Vale?”
Marin straightened.
“You know the name?”
“Your father does.”
“Why?”
“Everyone who has done business in Boston for thirty years knows the Vales.”
Fantastic.
“Mom—”
“What exactly do you mean by seeing?”
“Dating.”
“I know what seeing means.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because Thomas once spent three hours explaining why we should never accept a development contract connected to Salvatore Vale.”
Marin sat down on the bed.
“That was Adrian’s father.”
“I know.”
“What did Dad say?”
“That those people had complicated relationships.”
“Complicated relationships?”
“That was your father trying not to say criminal.”
“Great.”
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“Marin, is this some kind of joke?”
“No.”
It was technically several kinds of joke.
“Is he kind to you?”
The question stopped her.
Not rich.
Not respectable.
Not dangerous.
Kind.
Marin thought of Adrian immediately accepting her boundaries.
Remembering she liked olives.
Turning serious when Corwin appeared.
Giving her an opportunity to cancel without pressure.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“He’s been kind.”
“Then I’ll reserve judgment.”
“Really?”
“No. But I’ll pretend.”
Marin laughed.
“Thank you.”
“Bring him at five forty-five. Your father needs warning.”
The call ended.
Marin looked at herself.
Then at the clock.
Forty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
She opened the door.
Every thought disappeared.
Adrian stood in the hallway wearing a dark navy suit instead of black. White shirt. No tie.
He held a small bouquet.
Not roses.
Not anything extravagant.
White anemones mixed with eucalyptus and blue delphinium.
Marin stared.
“You brought flowers to a florist.”
“I realized the stupidity halfway here.”
She took them.
“They’re beautiful.”
“I had assistance.”
“From?”
“A woman named Paige.”
Marin’s mouth fell open.
“You went back to my shop?”
“I called.”
“She betrayed me.”
“She was enthusiastic.”
“I’m firing her.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“No, I’m not.”
Adrian looked past her.
“May I come in?”
“Right.”
He stepped inside.
The apartment was warm, crowded, and aggressively hers.
Books on shelves.
Photographs.
A half-dead basil plant.
Shoes beneath a chair.
Theodore, her orange rescue cat, appeared from the kitchen.
He stopped.
Adrian stopped.
The cat stared.
Adrian stared back.
Marin folded her arms.
“This is important.”
“I gathered.”
Theodore walked over.
Sniffed Adrian’s shoe.
Then rubbed himself against his trouser leg.
Marin gasped.
“Traitor.”
Adrian crouched.
The cat immediately pushed his head beneath Adrian’s hand.
“You said he was obsessive.”
Marin froze.
“I never told you about Theodore.”
Adrian’s hand stopped.
Damn.
“No more omissions,” Marin reminded him.
He rose.
“Background check.”
“You background-checked me?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“How much?”
“Enough to know you weren’t attempting to manipulate me.”
“That is insane.”
“In my life, it’s routine.”
“Did you read my high school yearbook?”
“No.”
“Credit score?”
“No.”
“Medical records?”
His expression hardened.
“Absolutely not.”
Marin studied him.
“At least there’s a line.”
“There are many lines.”
“Your lines are just in terrifying places.”
He accepted that.
“You can still tell me to leave.”
She looked down at the flowers.
“Not yet.”
He held out a hand.
“Then we should review.”
They sat at her kitchen counter.
“Rule one,” Marin said. “No kissing.”
“Agreed.”
“Rule two. If Bennett behaves like an idiot, you do not threaten him.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Not even elegantly.”
“Define elegantly.”
“No.”
A hint of a smile.
“Fine.”
“Rule three. Nobody gets told this is fake.”
“Obviously.”
“Rule four. We stay together as much as possible.”
“Easy.”
“Rule five. Do not answer my aunt Nancy honestly.”
“Why?”
“Because she will ask when we’re getting married.”
“I see.”
“And when we’re having children.”
Adrian’s eyebrows rose.
“And whether we’ve discussed fertility.”
“That seems invasive.”
“Aunt Nancy regards privacy as a personal challenge.”
He nodded solemnly.
“I’ll prepare.”
Marin laughed.
Then his expression softened.
“You’re nervous.”
“Very observant.”
“About Bennett?”
“About all of it.”
She twisted a ring on her right hand.
“I hate that seeing him still affects me.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t deserve that power.”
“Feelings aren’t power.”
She looked at him.
“They feel like it.”
Adrian considered this.
“Maybe the power is choosing what you do with them.”
Something about the quiet certainty of his voice unsettled her.
“Did somebody teach you that?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“I learned the expensive way.”
There were entire rooms behind that sentence.
Marin wanted to ask.
But the clock read 5:27.
“Time.”
They stood.
Adrian held her coat.
Marin slid into it.
His fingers accidentally brushed the back of her neck.
Both froze.
The contact lasted less than a second.
Still, Marin felt it after he stepped away.
Six hours, she reminded herself.
Pretending.
Outside, a black SUV waited.
She stopped.
“No.”
Adrian glanced toward it.
“What?”
“We are not arriving in that.”
“Why?”
“Because my father drives a twelve-year-old Volvo and already thinks your family is the Corleones.”
Adrian looked offended.
“My vehicle is German.”
“That is not the point.”
“How did you intend to get there?”
“Rideshare.”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll compromise.”
Ten minutes later, Luca looked personally betrayed while Adrian drove Marin’s four-year-old Subaru out of the parking garage.
“This is absurd,” Adrian said.
“You’re having the normal-person experience you wanted.”
“The steering wheel vibrates.”
“It has personality.”
“The warning light is on.”
“It’s always on.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Marin laughed so hard she forgot to be nervous.
For several minutes, they drove through wet evening streets.
Then Adrian reached toward the center console.
His hand paused beside hers.
“May I?”
She followed his gaze.
Her hand lay between them.
Holding hands.
The performance was about to begin.
Marin swallowed.
Then turned her palm upward.
Adrian slid his fingers through hers.
Simple.
Warm.
Steady.
Her pulse changed.
He noticed.
She knew he noticed.
Neither mentioned it.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because I’m not either.”
She looked at him.
For the first time, Adrian Vale did not look like a billionaire, a rumored crime boss, or a man who frightened bartenders by entering rooms.
He looked nervous.
Because of her family.
The thought was absurd enough that Marin smiled.
Twenty minutes later they pulled into the private dining entrance of the Harbor House Club.
A valet hurried toward them.
Then stopped.
His expression changed when he recognized Adrian.
Inside the lobby, a manager went pale.
Marin saw Adrian notice both reactions.
His jaw tightened.
“You said everyone wouldn’t expect anything from you,” she whispered.
“They’re not your family.”
“Tonight, ignore everyone else.”
He looked at her.
“Only you?”
The question sounded far too intimate.
Marin’s heartbeat stumbled.
“For six hours.”
Adrian lifted her hand.
Not kissing it.
Just gently tightening his fingers around hers.
“For six hours.”
The dining-room doors opened.
Voices spilled out.
Clara saw Marin first.
Her face lit up.
Then she saw Adrian.
Her smile vanished in shock.
Behind her, Thomas Whitlock nearly dropped his glass.
Evelyn’s eyebrows climbed.
And across the room, Bennett Hale turned.
The expression on his face was worth every terrible decision Marin had made in the last twenty-four hours.
But Bennett was not the person Adrian noticed.
Near the far wall stood a man Marin had never seen.
Gray suit.
No drink.
Watching Adrian.
Watching her.
Adrian’s fingers tightened.
Only slightly.
Marin followed his gaze.
“Friend of yours?”
“No.”
His entire body had gone still.
“Adrian?”
He smiled for the room.
But when he leaned toward Marin’s ear, his voice was serious.
“Whatever happens tonight, stay beside me.”
May you like
And just like that, the six-hour lie began.
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