had never managed to give her the stability she’d craved, so she’d found her own—with Dawson’s. It was a family business, its history stretching into the last century and the one before that. The company had been around long before Edward, and she had no doubt that it would continue without him.
But how was it ever going to feel the same after he was gone? And what else was going to change?
The succession plans that had been approved by the board had appointed her as Joss’s new EA—she was tied to the job role, not to the holder—but once his father was gone Joss had no reason to stick with that decision. She could be out through the door as soon as Edward was dead.
An engagement to the heir apparent—even a fake one—was another tie to the company. To the family. Another bond to the life that she’d built for herself. An obstacle between her and everything falling away. Was that completely crazy? Maybe. But that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it.
‘Here.’ She passed Joss a bowl of potatoes and a salad. ‘Can you stick these on the table? The chicken will be just another minute.’
He took the bowls from her and glanced at the pan on the hob.
‘That looks amazing. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, though. We could have ordered something.’
She shrugged. ‘It was no trouble. I’d have been cooking for myself anyway.’
‘You cook like this every night?’
She narrowed her eyes as she tried to work out his angle. ‘Are you asking if that’s part of the deal?’
‘I’m making conversation. At least, I’m trying to.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head as she grabbed a couple of plates and started serving up. ‘Everything just feels so...weird. I can’t get my head around it.’
‘It doesn’t need to be weird.’
‘Joss, this afternoon you asked me to pretend to be your fiancée. Now you’re asking me to move in with you. How can it be anything but weird?’
‘Because it’s not real, Eva.’
She brandished a set of tongs at him. ‘That makes it worse! How can faking something like that not feel weird to you? Lying to your father won’t feel weird?’
He held his hands up and shrugged, though his expression belied his casual attitude. ‘Do you tell your parents everything that’s going on with you?’
‘There’s just my dad. We’re not close. But I’ve never invented a fiancé.’
Before now, she added in her head. Because this conversation seemed to be gathering momentum, and she wasn’t sure she was going to put a stop to it. She hadn’t come out and told Edward that it wasn’t true yet, so at the very least she was complicit in the lie getting this far.
It was only when Joss had mentioned it that she’d even thought about the fact that she might have to tell her dad. How was it that she’d put more emotional energy into worrying that she was lying to Edward than into the fact that she would also have to lie to her own father? She’d not even considered that going through with this would affect him too.
Maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe she could keep the whole thing from him—it wasn’t as if they spoke often. Or at all, really.
‘You’re quiet,’ Joss commented as they sat down to eat at the dining table tucked into the corner of the living room.
‘Thinking,’ she replied, helping herself to salad and potatoes.
‘Enlighten me,’ Joss instructed, equally economical with his words.
Eva sighed, but he was here to talk and they weren’t going to get anywhere if neither of them opened up. And, if what she’d seen of Joss over the years was anything to go by, she would be waiting a long time for an emotional outpouring from his end.
‘I’m not sure that this is a good idea.’ A good start, she thought. Get her cards on the table. ‘We’re lying to your father. It’s likely we’ll be found out. It’s a distraction when we should be concentrating on what he needs.’
Joss raised an eyebrow.
‘What?’ Eva asked.
‘We’re doing it for my father. You saw how happy it’s making him.’
Joss had said that they needed to talk, but it was only now she realised that he thought he was here to sort out details—not to convince her. He was assuming that she would just go along with it. He’d taken her decision not to tell Edward the truth from the start as approval, and he was here to iron out the fine print.
‘You really think I’m going to go along with this?’
Joss looked up and held her gaze for a beat longer than was comfortable.
‘I think you already are.’
A shiver ran through her at the tone of his voice. So commanding. So sure of himself. So arrogant. She’d had no idea before this moment that that did something for her, but the heat between her legs and the tightness in her belly told her it definitely did.
‘If you were going to back out,’ he continued, ‘you would have done it back at the office. Or just told my father the truth on the spot. Why are we bothering to dance around this when we both know you’ve made up your mind?’
She fixed him with a stare and muttered an Arabic curse under her breath, trying not to show him how right she knew he was. Because she could have called a halt to this hours ago. The fact that she hadn’t told them both all they needed to know.
‘I’m doing it to make your father happy,’ she clarified, still holding that gaze, making sure Joss could see that she wasn’t backing down or giving in to him. She was making her own decisions for her own very good reasons.
‘I know.’ He nodded, taking a sip of his wine, breaking their eye contact and cutting into his chicken.
‘I mean it,’ he said, after he’d polished off half the plate. ‘I could get used to this.’
‘Good,’ she said, standing up and picking up her plate, suddenly losing her appetite. ‘You can get used to doing the washing up as well.’
Joss finished his food and followed her through to the little kitchen. ‘You think you’re going to scare me away with threats of stacking the dishwasher?’
She gestured around the bijou kitchen. ‘You see a dishwasher in here?’
He glanced around. ‘Fine. So we’ll get someone in. I’ll pay,’ he added when she started to shake her head.
‘It’s not about the money.’
‘What? It’s about me being willing to get my hands wet? Fine. But I’m not a martyr, Eva. If you’re hoping to scare me then I might as well tell you now that it’s not going to work.’
‘You don’t want to move in here. There’s no space.’
He leaned back against the kitchen counter, a hand either side of his hips. His man-spreading made his intentions clear. It would have been more subtle if he’d marked the doorframe with his scent.
‘I decide for myself what I do and don’t want, Eva. This is where you live, so it’s where I’ll live too. You’ve stated your ground rules; now I’m stating mine.’
She folded her arms and leant back against the kitchen counter. ‘There’s not even any space in the wardrobe.’
‘You can’t expect us to live apart.’
‘We’re going to see each other all the time at work. Isn’t moving in together a bit much?’
He took a step towards her, and Eva had to admit that his height was a little intimidating in the tiny kitchen.
‘And