Noah’s crooked smile is just a little bit too smug. What was that you said earlier? Something about not marrying me? it seems to gloat. How’s that humble pie taste?

A muscle tenses in my jaw. He didn’t even have to say a word and I’m already irritated all over again. Goddamn it, he’s so annoyingly attractive—with his charcoal-gray suit, crisp white shirt, and merlot-colored tie, all expertly tailored to fit his six-foot-two frame—and the fact that he can get under my skin so easily just annoys me even more.

His entire demeanor screams confidence. From his deep, inquisitive eyes that see too much, to his strong hands with neatly trimmed nails, to the thick column of his throat that bobs when he smirks at me. He’s the thing my teenage fantasies were made of. Woodsy male scent. Muscular, yet trim frame. A quick wit that always finds a way to pull me into a debate.

Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I force my eyes away from Noah and address the room. “Thank you all for reconvening on such short notice. I have a proposal to make.”

“I thought that was my job,” Noah interjects.

Pointedly ignoring his joke, I explain. “I’ll sign the inheritance contract at the end of the month . . .”

Everyone blinks at me. Dad and Prescott look pleasantly surprised. Noah’s annoying smile is gone, replaced with a slightly furrowed brow.

“But only,” I continue, “if Noah can show me that a relationship between us could work. After all, Tate & Cane’s fate hinges on our ability to cooperate as both business partners and spouses.”

“A trial period?” Dad asks.

“You could describe it like that. I also think that getting to know each other better will help the company’s public image. We need to make our relationship believable; it’ll look strange if nobody ever sees us together before we marry.”

It’s also a chance to dip my toes in before diving straight into the deep end. An attempt to inject a little normality into a deeply abnormal situation.

But I don’t say that part out loud. I don’t want to admit right now that marriage still scares me a little. Not with Noah blinking curiously at me, and Prescott looking frustrated at the prospect of even further delays.

Noah finally speaks up. “So, essentially, you’re asking me to date you.”

I nod at him. “Yep, that’s the idea. At least take me out for a drink before I consider taking your name.” I look straight at him, waiting to see his reaction before I hit him with my next clause. “Oh, and another thing. Refrain from having sex . . . with anyone.”

Chapter Three

Noah

She wants me to woo her?

Of all the scenarios I imagined—from the most likely, where Olivia rips up the contract, to the even crazier, where she actually signs it—this wasn’t one of them.

She’s laid down her own stipulations, ensuring that I’ll have to work to win her over. Though I probably should have expected a curveball. This is Olivia Cane, after all.

“If there are no further questions, I should get back to work,” Olivia says. When nobody responds, she turns and struts out of the conference room, her round ass swaying as her heels click across the floor. The door swings shut.

“That was interesting,” I say under my breath.

Fred stops beside me as I stand, trying to process what just happened. “It sounds like the ball’s in your court, son. But don’t worry. I know you can pull this off.”

“Thanks.” I nod, then take off toward her office. She doesn’t get to drop a bomb like that and then saunter away.

She’s inside, perched in her cream-colored leather chair, stilettos kicked off under her desk. Her toenails are painted light blue, and she’s tapping her foot in time to whatever tune she’s humming. Something on her computer screen has her complete attention.

Startled at the sound of the door opening, she looks up, her wide crystal-blue eyes finding mine. “Did you need something? I have work to do.”

She mentioned us going for a drink. Which is perfect, considering I need to prove how compatible we can be. But first, I need her to see something. This isn’t just some game; I need her to understand exactly what’s at stake if we don’t succeed.

“Come with me. There’s something I need to show you.”

I tug her up from her desk chair, allowing her a moment to slip her delicate feet back into her heels, then tow her from the office before she can argue.

“Where are you taking me?”

I grunt and mumble, “You’ll see.”

“Don’t be such a caveman; use your words.”

“We’re going to the mail room.”

She scoffs. “What on earth for?”

I don’t answer, just punch the button for the elevator. We cruise down to the basement floor of the building with an eerie silence hanging around us. When the doors open to the basement, I take a deep breath.

“Ahh . . . you smell that?” I grin at her.

Her mouth turns down into a frown. “Mildew?” Her gaze darts around the large open space stacked with boxes. “The health department would have a field day down here.”

This is my favorite place in the whole building, so I don’t take too kindly to Olivia turning up her nose at it. “Don’t be such a grouch. Come on.”

I lace my fingers with hers once again and tug her farther down the fluorescent-lit hallway. When we reach the mail room, I wonder for a moment if Rosita is on her break.