Holiday Hoax (Windy City Holidates #3)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

IAN

The conversation with my father went about as well as I thought it would. More pressure to find a wife or at the very least a steady relationship with a woman I can trot out at company functions. He even came armed with a list of names of suitable choices from my mother.

Which is how I find myself attending an art gallery opening on a Thursday night when I should still be in the office finishing up some end of the month work. My date’s name is Annette Carlson, she’s the daughter of the CEO of a prestigious bank. She’s beautiful, well educated, and ticks all my mom’s boxes for what she wants me to have in a partner.

Unfortunately, we have zero chemistry. Throughout dinner we both struggled to make conversation beyond pedantic small talk. I nearly faked a bout of food poisoning just to end this awkward date and put us both out of our misery. But then she started talking about the gallery and the artist whose work will be on display. She has an impressive story, so another hour is workable.

A server walks past us with champagne on a silver tray, so I grab two glasses and hand one to Annette. As she thanks me, I hear a familiar laugh. I immediately turn, looking for the woman it belongs to.

She’s standing beside two men in bespoke suits, the three of them taking in a large piece of artwork on the wall. I can’t take my eyes off her stunning figure in her slinky black dress that drapes in all the right places. She barely has any skin showing, and yet I can picture her body vividly. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, the long waves flowing down her back, along with lilac-colored strands woven in.

“I see a friend from college over there,” Annette says as she gently taps my shoulder. “Do you mind if I go talk to him?”

“Not at all,” I say, giving her my attention. “I see a family friend as well.”

“Oh, perfect.” She gives me a smile and walks off.

Mia subtly glances around the room while she chats with the two gentlemen in front of her. She does a double take when she sees me approaching. Her eyes light up as bright as her smile.

“Twice in one week, how’d I get so lucky?” She hugs me in greeting, the amber and vanilla notes in her perfume filling the air around us.

“It’s the other way around, I’m sure.” I squeeze her in a friendly embrace.

“These are two of my favorite clients, Chadwick and Thomas Worth.”

I extend my hand. “Ian Jameson.”

“How do you two know each other?” Chadwick asks.

“My brother is married to his sister,” she answers.

Thomas puts his hand over his heart. “I love Stella so much. Tell that gorgeous woman to get her ass back to Chicago.”

“I’ll do that.” I smile as they excuse themselves. “They seem great.”

“They are.” She watches them pluck hors d’oeuvres from a table and feed each other with a smile ghosting her lips. “What brings you here tonight?”

“My date actually. I think she knows the artist whose work is on display.”

“Oh, which one is your date?” She looks around the gallery curiously.

“Annette Carlson.” I gesture in her direction with my champagne glass.

Her eyes follow my movement until they land on the beautiful blonde. “I can see it. You guys make a stunning couple.”

“We might look good together, but the conversation is dry.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “That’s surprising.”

“How so?”

“You’re so easy to talk to, I just assumed it was a natural character trait.”

“I believe it’s you that keeps the conversation flowing. You have a certain charm that makes people comfortable with you.” I nearly tell her it’s irresistible.

Her cheeks flush pink, it’s the first time I’ve seen her blush, and I just want to see it over and over again. “It definitely takes two to make a conversation work.”

“Perhaps.” Our eyes lock for a moment, and she looks away first. “Do you see any art that calls to you?”

I turn my attention to the canvas nearest us. It has broad brush strokes in multiple colors, but that’s all I take from it. I’m not sure how people can look at paintings like this and see something more. “This one is bold.”

“That’s a good way to describe all her work. Can you tell it is meant to be the city skyline reflected in a puddle?”

I tilt my head one way, then the other, trying my damnedest to see it. My shoulders drop when I look over to her. “I don’t see it.” I grimace. “Art is not my strength.”

“Art can be anything you want it to be. What do you see when you look at it?” She watches me as I study the painting.

“It looks sad. All the muted gray and blue colors, the way the brush strokes look melancholy.” I immediately stop talking. What kind of statement is that? Inanimate objects can’t have human emotions. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“No.” She places her hand on my forearm and squeezes. “That was a really interesting take on this piece. We all see things differently based on our experiences and biases. Yours is just as valid as anyone else.”

“Isn’t the only person’s opinion who matters the artist’s?”

“When an artist puts their work out into the world for public consumption, it belongs equally to those who perceive it.”

“That’s deep.”

She giggles. “That’s what happens when you stare at art all day.”

“How has work been going? Is it picking up any?”

“I had a big sale this week which will help, but it was a friend. The same day I got a letter from the building HOA informing me that the monthly fees are increasing, so if you have any friends in the market for art, send them my way.”

“How much did they increase?”

“Two hundred dollars.” She breaks eye contact with a slight shake of her head. “Which probably seems like a paltry amount to you, but I’m behind on so much.”

I have a feeling that Nico has no idea what’s going on with Mia. If he did, I know he and Stella would bend over backwards to help her. The fact that they aren’t tells me that she doesn’t want to ask for help. I’d give her the money myself if I thought she’d accept and not be offended.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezes my forearm. “My financial trouble isn’t something you want to hear about.”

“I don’t mind. I’m actually trying to figure out a way to help.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’m going to look into getting a second job.”

“What if I knew a way to help you and me?” I ask as an idea takes root in my head.

“How?” She looks at me curiously.

“Well, I need to start bringing a date to company functions and social gatherings. None of the women my mother wants to set me up with are a good fit, and I have no prospects on my own.”

“Okay…” her voice trails off as she keeps listening intently.

“And you need to work your way into different social circles to network and meet potential new clients.”

I pause while she takes in the suggestion. Her expression is thoughtful but open as she mulls it over. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me. I know she’s just thinking, but it’s incredibly sexy so I glance away.

“So we’d be, what, fake dating?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“How long?”

“Through the holidays.”

She nods. “I can do that.”

Relief surges through my veins for the first time since my dinner with the board. I’ll have someone interesting and who can carry an engaging conversation at these events. The best part, though, is that it’ll help her.

I extend my hand. “So we have a deal?”

“We do.” She takes my hand and shakes it with a smile.

“Mr. Jameson?” Derrick says from the doorway between his desk and my office, his coat draped over his arm. “Do you want to accept this dinner reservation with the chairman and his wife for tomorrow evening?”

“Not particularly,” I say honestly. “But yes. Tell him I’m bringing a date.”

“Okay.” He pulls out his phone and sends the response. “Who is your date?”

“Mia Mattia.”

“Is she from your mother’s list?”

“No.” I look at him over the top of my computer screen. “Is this curiosity professional or personal?”

“Personal.” He grins. “Mia Mattia is a gorgeous name.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

“How’d you meet?”

“She’s a family acquaintance.”

Derrick’s become more than an assistant at this point, proving to be a good friend and sounding board for me. But at moments like this when he starts digging for information I second guess opening that door. He walks into my office and sits down across from me.

“Is she related to your brother-in-law?”

“Yes.”

He looks at me.

I look back at him.

“That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother is going to lose her shit.”

My lips tilt in a smirk. “That’s half the fun.”

I love my mother, I really do, but she’s insufferable. Always looking down on others unless it suits her to lend a helping hand. I’ve never seen her be altruistic a moment in her life.

She lost her mind when Stella decided to work for a living, instead of marrying rich like she had. Then she had a meltdown when Stella and Nico eloped. Nico, being a partner in TechJet and their corporate attorney, wasn't good enough for Stella in her eyes because of his background. They met in prep school where he attended as the lone scholarship student.

Now that Stella is happily married, she’s turned all her attention on me and my chronic bachelorhood. It’s not that I’m uninterested in finding a partner, I just don’t want one who is only interested in how many zeros are in my bank account. I thought I had found that years ago, but it turns out I was wrong. So wrong.

Once bitten, never again.

“We’re not really dating though. It’s more of a quid pro quo situation. She needs to bring in more clientele to her art gallery. I need an interesting and engaging date through the transition of Dad retiring. It’s perfect.”

“What could go wrong?” Derrick says glibly. “On that note, I’m heading out. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening.”

“You, too.”

He closes the door behind him, and the ensuing silence sets my mind free to wander. He started asking questions I had no answer to. If we’re going to make this look real, we should have a conversation about basics. Maybe even a discussion about expectations and boundaries for each other.

I won’t be seeing anyone else during this time, and I’ll need her to do the same. Only so that no one sees her out with another man and gets the wrong idea. I can’t risk a scandal of any proportion while I’m moving into the role of CEO.

I grab my phone and pull up her contact information to send her a text.

Can you have dinner tomorrow night at 7 pm?

Luckily it doesn’t take long until she replies.

Yes, where?

I’ll pick you up

Great but I need to know how to dress

Can I stop by your place tonight? I realized we need to figure out a few things before we take this public

Sure, I’m on my way home now

She sends her address, and I do something I haven’t done in years. I leave the office before six p.m.