She Was Rejected on a Blind Date — Until a Billionaire Walked In and Asked Her to Marry Him
The Art of the Charade
Before Jennifer could respond, a woman from Christopher’s group stepped forward—a severe-looking blonde in her 50s wearing a designer suit and an expression of barely concealed horror.
“Mister Hawthorne, perhaps we should discuss this privately.”
“Not now, Patricia,” Christopher said firmly, never taking his eyes off Jennifer.
He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down as if they had planned to meet all along.
“Please,” he said quietly, his voice urgent but not unkind. “I understand how this looks. I’m a stranger making a bizarre request, but there are seven members of my board of directors having dinner in the private room upstairs along with my grandmother.”
“She has made it abundantly clear that she won’t approve the merger we’ve been negotiating for 8 months unless I prove I’m settled down and serious about family.”
Jennifer’s mind reeled.
“And you thought accosting a random woman in a restaurant was the solution?”
A flicker of what might have been amusement crossed Christopher’s face.
“Not random. I saw you sitting here alone and I saw your face when you read that message on your phone. You looked like someone who had just been profoundly let down.”
“I apologize for the observation, but it gave me hope that you might understand desperation when you see it.”
“This is insane,” Jennifer said, but she didn’t stand up to leave. Something about the raw honesty in his voice kept her seated.
“Completely insane,” Christopher agreed. “But I’m asking anyway. Have dinner with me, meet my grandmother and my board. Pretend for two hours that we’re engaged. In exchange, I’ll pay you $50,000.”
Jennifer nearly choked.
“50,000?”
“And if you’re particularly convincing,” Christopher continued, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small business card, “I’ll need you to maintain this charade for approximately 6 weeks until the merger is finalized.”
“For that, I’m prepared to offer you half a million dollars and a contract that protects both of our interests.”
The restaurant seemed to tilt around Jennifer. Half a million dollars—that was more than she had made in the last 3 years combined. That was enough to finally lease proper office space instead of working from her cramped apartment and hire the assistant she desperately needed.
“Why me?” she whispered.
Christopher leaned forward slightly, and Jennifer caught the scent of expensive cologne.
“Because you’re here. Because you look kind despite having every reason to be angry right now. Because my grandmother will believe I fell for someone real, someone who doesn’t attend charity galas or belong to country clubs.”
“And because, quite frankly, I’m out of options and out of time. They’re expecting me upstairs in 10 minutes, and they’re expecting me to bring my fiancé.”
Patricia cleared her throat loudly.
“Sir, this is highly inadvisable.”
“Everything worth doing is,” Christopher said, still holding Jennifer’s gaze. “What do you say? Will you marry me, at least for the next 6 weeks?”
Jennifer took a deep breath. Every rational part of her brain screamed that this was dangerous, reckless, and potentially disastrous. But another part—the part that had taken chances to start her own business—whispered that sometimes the craziest moments led to the most extraordinary outcomes.
“I want the contract in writing before I go upstairs,” she said finally. “And I want your lawyer present when I sign it.”
Christopher’s face transformed with a smile that reached his eyes.
“Done. Patricia, get Marcus on the phone immediately and have him bring the standard NDA and draft a temporary engagement contract. We have 9 minutes.”
As Patricia hurried away, Christopher extended his hand across the table.
“Thank you, Jennifer Morris.”
She startled.
“How did you know my name?”
He gestured subtly toward her phone, where Trevor’s message glowed on the screen, her name visible in the contact heading.
“I’m observant. It served me well in business.”
Jennifer shook his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip, and wondered what she had just agreed to. Christopher’s attorney, Marcus, appeared within minutes and explained the terms. Jennifer would pose as Christopher’s fiancé for 6 weeks in exchange for $500,000.
“Remember,” Christopher said quietly beside her, “we met 3 months ago at a gallery opening in Soho. You were there showcasing some design work for a client. I was immediately drawn to your perspective on modern art.”
“And you pursued me relentlessly until I agreed to dinner,” Jennifer added, reciting the story. “We discovered we both love obscure foreign films and hiking, though neither of us gets to do it as often as we’d like.”
“Perfect.”
Christopher adjusted his tie, and Jennifer noticed for the first time that his confident exterior masked genuine nervousness.
“My grandmother will ask about your family. What should I know?”
Jennifer’s chest tightened.
“My parents passed away four years ago in a car accident. I have a younger brother, Danny, who’s finishing college in Boston. We’re close, but he’s focused on his studies, so we mostly communicate by phone.”
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Thank you,” Jennifer said, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.
The elevator doors opened to a stunning private dining room. An elderly woman at the head of the table, Victoria Hawthorne, assessed Jennifer with piercing blue eyes.
“Christopher, darling,” Victoria said, her voice crisp. “You’re late, and you’ve brought a guest, I see.”
Christopher’s hand found the small of Jennifer’s back.
“Grandmother, board members, I apologize for my tardiness. I wanted to surprise you all. I’d like you to meet Jennifer Morris, my fiancée.”
The silence was deafening. Victoria studied Jennifer with razor-sharp eyes.
“Indeed. How fascinating. Come here, child; let me see you properly.”
Jennifer crossed the room, feeling like her legs were water. Victoria gestured to the empty chairs.
“Jennifer Morris. Tell me, my dear, how did you manage to capture my grandson’s attention? He’s been married to his work for so long, I’d begun to think he’d forgotten how to see anything else.”
“I think it was less about capturing his attention and more about not being impressed by his reputation,” Jennifer replied. “At the gallery where we met, I had no idea who he was. I criticized a piece he apparently admired, and we ended up debating art theory.”
“You’re an art critic?”
“Graphic designer,” Jennifer corrected. “I run my own small business. Nothing as grand as Hawthorne Industries, but it’s mine and I’m proud of it.”
“Independence,” Victoria mused. “I appreciate that. Christopher, why haven’t you mentioned this wonderful development before now?”
“I wanted to be certain before involving the family,” Christopher said, reaching for Jennifer’s hand.
“And can you,” Victoria asked Jennifer directly, “handle the pressure? The scrutiny? The expectations?”
“I’ve handled worse than gossip and expectations, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Jennifer said steadily. “I lost both my parents four years ago and kept my business running while helping my brother through his grief. I learned that pressure either crushes you or teaches you what you’re made of.”
Victoria’s expression softened.
“I lost my husband 30 years ago. Raised Christopher’s father alone while running this company. You’re right, my dear. Pressure reveals character. She’ll do, Christopher. She’ll do very well.”
Dinner proceeded with the board members warming to Jennifer. Victoria eventually made an announcement.
“I’ve been hesitant about the Meridian merger, but seeing Christopher with Jennifer tonight has eased my concerns. I’m prepared to vote in favor of the merger.”
Relief washed over the table, but Jennifer felt a knot in her stomach. Their lie was now affecting livelihoods.
“There’s just one condition,” Victoria added. “I want to host an engagement party 2 weeks from tonight. If we’re going to announce this merger, we should celebrate Christopher’s engagement properly at the same time.”
Jennifer’s heart sank. Two weeks. More opportunities for the charade to unravel.
“Of course, grandmother,” Christopher said smoothly. “Jennifer and I would be honored.”
