“I did win that scholarship,” he reminded her. “But you were right behind me. It was practically a tie.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Tessa. You can’t hold that petty grudge against me forever.” He was being obnoxious, he knew. But he had to protect himself from getting pushed around. And from the current that was snapping to life between them.

“I don’t hold grudges, Leo,” she said sweetly. “But I remember them. And it reminds me never to get involved with you again.”

This woman was…unbelievable. As his fake wife, she wouldn’t respect him; she’d harass and poke fun at him. She’d compete with him and argue with him at every turn. And she would annoy the hell out of him. Did he really need all that to save his family’s business?

Yeah. He did. And she needed it, too.

So he went back to sales mode. “My idea is innovative. And yes, a little risky. But it can have a huge payoff. For both of us.”

“How would I explain this to my family? They’d be…heartbroken. Or, more likely, they’d never believe it in the first place.”

A sly grin spread across his face. “Sure they would. It’s classic.”

“Classic hatred?” she quipped.

His turn to eye roll. “Classic Romeo and Juliet. We’re the Montagues and Capulets. Except with a happy ending.”

“You consider divorce a happy ending? Unless you mean we’d kill each other first. Because we can’t stay fake married forever. I’d like a real husband at some point, and I can’t look for him with a ring on my finger. I mean, I guess I could, but I won’t. Because I won’t cheat, even if this is all pretend.”

He hadn’t thought of that, and he was impressed by the depth of her loyalty, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “Anything’s happier than death.”

She gave him an incredulous look, then dropped it. “Actually, you’re right about that one. I hate when you’re right. But you’re not right about this…this…fake marriage. No one will buy it. They know us too well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, we don’t…like each other, for one. How are we going to coexist when we have to pretend we do?”

“Tolerating each other for a few months—let’s say six—is a small sacrifice.”

“Says you.”

“Hey, I’m tidy. I cook. And I don’t snore.”

“I will never be close enough to where you sleep to know that.”