Marrying Mr. English:The English Brothers #7(37)

"I'll be brief," he said. "Tomorrow night. The union     League Club. Seven o'clock."

Emily sighed. She had plans tomorrow night with a sensitive, easygoing,  doctoral psych student named Chad who'd asked her out more than once.  She'd repeatedly turned him down, but Val had insisted that after four  months spent at Barrett English's beck and call, Emily needed to go out  with someone with whom she actually had a chance.                       
       
           



       

"Emily?" he prompted.

"How late?"

"Three hours minimum. Possibly four."

Pushing her hand through her straight blonde hair, she knew it would be  smart to decline Barrett's request and go out with the psych cutie as  planned. The arrangement she had with Barrett-while beneficial to her  bank account-wasn't doing her social life any favors. Nor her heart,  which didn't seem to comprehend that Barrett only called her because she  was his employee. Still, she couldn't bring herself to say no to him.

"Engagement ring?" she asked.

"Per usual."

"The Chanel or the Givenchy?"

"As you wish."

"Hair band or chignon?"

"You always look presentable, Emily. I leave the details to you. Smith will pick you up at six forty-five. Are we done?"

"Yes," she answered and the line immediately went dead.

"Goodbye," Emily said wistfully in the quiet of the alley,  disappointment making her grimace. She fisted the phone in her hand  until the case pinched her skin and shook her from her trance. "See you  tomorrow! You're welcome! By the way, I love you, you jerk!"

Her yell caused a flurry of commotion overhead as a flock of pigeons  departed in a hurry for safer, quieter lodgings, one of them pausing  just long enough to crap on Emily's shoulder with a big, fat plop.

Fantastic. The perfect metaphor for my life.

She stared at the goopy grayish-white spot in surrender before taking a  deep, restorative breath, tucking her phone into her jeans and heading  back inside to clean her shirt and rejoin her study group.

An hour later, she trudged home beside Valeria, who started scolding her  as soon as Emily shared her last-minute plans for tomorrow night.

"So you'll have to reschedule with Chad? Jeez, Em, I don't understand  why you keep saying yes to Barrett!" said Valeria, turning up her  collar. "Why not just say no?"

"He has a way about him." Emily sighed. "I always consider saying no, but I somehow end up saying yes."

Though they'd never been close or intimate, Emily had known Barrett her  entire life-well, not really known him, because they were from very  different parts of Haverford Park, but he'd been a peripheral part of  her life since birth. The economic nature of the call she'd just shared  with him was textbook Barrett: businesslike, methodical, and  goal-oriented. Emily somehow knew he wasn't trying to offend her-he was  merely taking care of their mutual business as efficiently as possible.  It just hurt that he employed efficiency over warmth since it verified  what she had suspected for months: Barrett had little to no personal  interest in Emily, despite her growing feelings for him.

Valeria continued in the no-nonsense tone she used when student  teaching. "Here's a solution: say no next time. ‘No, Barrett, I refuse  to play the part of fake fiancée for you. Take a hike.' Three words,  Em-TAKE. A. HIKE." Valeria held up three fingers one by one, then tucked  them back into the pocket of her peacoat. "Darn, it's cold."

"It's October in Philadelphia." Emily pointed out.

"Don't change the subject."

"Okay, Val. I'll say no next time. Here goes. ‘No, thanks, Barrett. You  don't make me do anything disgusting. You barely say a word to me. I get  to dress up in gorgeous clothes I could never afford, have an expensive  glass of wine, and enjoy a scrumptious dinner with people who go out of  their way to be polite to me. And yes, I'm flat broke and so is my  roommate, but no, thanks, I don't want your one hundred an hour to play  your fake fiancée. Keep it.' How does that sound?"

"Not so smart."

"I rest my case," said Emily, though the case was far from closed in her  heart and mind, which feuded in a tightly locked conundrum. Lately, her  heart murmured that she should walk away from Barrett before her  feelings for him grew any stronger, while her head insisted she couldn't  possibly turn her back on the income he offered.

Valeria's voice interrupted her internal struggle. "Why does he need a fiancée anyway?"

"He only told me once and briefly. Some of his business associates and  clients like the stability of a family man on the way to the altar, and  he feels that a date makes dinner meetings feel more social and run more  smoothly."

Emily's role was to smile warmly, laugh softly, and occasionally make a  flattering remark about Barrett, which he would accept with a tight  smile before refocusing on the business at hand.

"Why you?" asked Valeria.                       
       
           



       

"My family has worked for his for three generations-four, if you include  me. My father is his family's gardener, just like my grandfather and  great-grandfather before. My mother's the head housekeeper at Haverford  Park. He knows where I come from. He knows I'll behave myself and keep  my mouth shut. I've known the English family since I was brought home  from the hospital to live in the gatehouse at the foot of their estate."  She shrugged. "Me working for Barrett makes sense."

"I still think it's weird," said Valeria, grumbling as she adjusted her  backpack. "Doesn't he know about a hundred society girls he could ask to  be his fake fiancée?"

Emily shook her head. "Nah. They'd all take it too seriously. They'd get  hopeful. They'd hope that what started as a favor would lead to  something real."

Unlike you, her head gibed sarcastically, poking with precision at her heart.

"From what you've told me, he's not exactly Prince Charming."

Emily had explained this before, but Valeria had never lived among the  English family. She didn't understand the breadth and depth of their  wealth and influence.

"Forget Prince Charming, Val. Barrett's the oldest son of English &  Sons. He buys companies for breakfast and eats them in pieces for lunch.  His nickname is ‘The Shark,' for heaven's sake! He's smart and driven  and stupendously wealthy. For the woman who doesn't require emotional  intimacy, that's a whole lot of diamond tennis bracelets."

Valeria nudged Emily's side, and when she looked up, Val smiled at Emily  as she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Speaking of intimacy, he's  also scorching hot."

And don't I know it, Emily thought with a grimace.

All her life, she'd made a quiet study of Barrett's perfection. His  tall, lean, muscular body, his burnished blond hair, the clear blue of  his eyes that made her breath catch when he occasionally flashed them at  her. He was unbelievably gorgeous-as were all of the English  brothers-except Barrett was the original. Over six feet tall, with a jaw  like a superhero, he was more than attractive. He was, as Valeria had  pointed out so illustratively, scorching hot.

But, who cares about that?, thought Emily in a concerted effort to  convince herself she was immune to his movie star good looks even though  it was patently untrue, when he can barely offer me a smile?

"I work for him, Val."

"I wouldn't mind working under him."

"Val!" exclaimed Emily, blushing as she swatted her roommate's arm.

"Speaking as a woman and not an employee, isn't there anything you like about him?"

Sure, thought Emily unhappily. Lots.

The oldest of five brothers, Barrett was the heir apparent to the most  prestigious private equity firm in Philadelphia, and by all outward  appearances, Barrett's nickname was right on target. He was a business  shark, dedicated to the financial dominance of English & Sons. But  Emily couldn't help sensing-as she always had-that deep down inside,  there was more to Barrett English than business. She had long held the  heart-fluttering theory, possibly incorrectly, that someone so  passionate in his business life must have the capacity for other deep  passions as well.

Honestly, Emily had no good reason for believing this. His behavior to  her was always polite, though not especially warm and inviting. He  didn't make Emily laugh, nor did he ask personal questions about her  studies or her family. When he dated someone, which wasn't often, Emily  noted that he never seemed thoroughly engaged or delighted with her, and  watched his short-lived girlfriends work like crazy to capture and hold  his attention without success. Barrett was austere and focused, totally  driven by business purposes. Further, he was reserved, old-school, and  buttoned-up, and in the twenty-four years Emily had known him, she  couldn't ever remember seeing him let loose. It was like he'd been born  with an expensive tie around his neck and a leather briefcase attached  to his hand.