TOBY
Toronto
St. George Station
End of June
I see her before she sees me, and I’m glad to have a second to process how stunning she is before she realizes I’m the man she’s here to meet.
The dress is perfect, the skirt flowing around her legs as she gets off the subway, the rest of the chiffon molded to her slim, delicate frame. Her hair is swept up off her face, but she’s left it long in the back, and her golden waves catch the overhead light in the underground station.
People are looking at her, but she doesn’t care, and that changes how they look at her—with awe, and whispers. Do you know who that is? She must be someone…
And she is.
Cara Russo. Grad student, secret badass, and a billionaire whisperer to boot.
My best friend’s little sister, too.
And for the next hour, my pretend bride.
Or more accurately…I’m her pretend groom.
I adjust the boutonnière on my lapel. That’s what she’s looking for. I was in charge of the flowers.
You’ll be wearing an orchid on your suit jacket, and you’ll have a small bouquet for me, too. That’s how I’ll know you’re my fiancé. I’ll look for the flowers.
She’s turning in a slow circle now, scanning the crowded platform. Her eyes are on the guy in the suit five bodies away from me. No, not him.
He doesn’t know how special you are.
Keep searching.
She glances in the other direction, then stops. Her back straightens and her head tilts to the side.
Turn around.
I should be nervous about this. She’s not going to understand.
Come on, Cara. Turn around and see me.
Anticipation zings through me as she turns slowly. Somehow, I’ll find a way to explain what I’ve done.
I’ve got the flowers, after all.
I’m the escort she’s hired for the afternoon. She just doesn’t know it yet.