She returns my gaze for a moment. Her lips twitch. Then she bursts out laughing.
I sulk for a moment, then give a reluctant smile. “That wasn’t funny.”
“The look on your face…” She giggles for another thirty seconds, wrestling with self-control.
I would never, ever ask for sexual favors in return for money. But there’s no doubt that even though she’s very different from the women I normally date, there’s something about this girl that gives me goosebumps when she looks at me.
“Sorry,” she says, sobering finally. “You were saying about a bargain?”
I clear my throat. “I told you about what the Foundation said.”
“About you needing to be more respectable?”
“Yeah. They said it would be good if I looked like a man who values commitment, and if I had someone steady by my side.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Don’t tell me you’re going to propose to Sabrina?”
I snort. “Fuck, no.”
She gives a short laugh. “Wouldn’t that help matters?”
“E ipo, I’d murder her within the first forty-eight hours. I don’t think that would help my respectability.” The Maori endearment means darling. She wrinkles her nose at me.
“I don’t want to get married,” I state. I look at the ground and pluck out a few blades of grass. “My parents have put me right off that institution.”
“Oh?”
“Dad told me yesterday that Mum wants a divorce.” I glare at the grass, then lift my gaze to hers. Her expression has softened.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. “That’s really tough on you.”
I shrug. I don’t really want to talk about it. “Anyway, I’m not interested in settling down with anyone. Monogamy is definitely overrated. But it occurred to me that I could fake it for a while…” I give her a mischievous smile.
She blinks. “Fake what?”
“Marriage. Or an engagement anyway.”
She blinks again. “What?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m saying I need someone to pretend to be my fiancée. Publicly. To come with me on social engagements, parties, that kind of thing. To make me look respectable.”
“That’s a mammoth task.”
“Haha.”
“You’re saying I could fulfil that role?”
I shrug. “We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve known each other a long time. From the outside, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that we’ve been dating quietly.”
Her brow furrows. “Kingi, nobody would ever believe that we’ve been dating.”
“Why?”
She looks at me as if I’m crazy. “Because I’m me and you’re… you.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“We’re from different worlds,” she says softly. “You date models and movie stars—Sabrinas with designer dresses and high heels who are comfortable in your world. I date rugby players who’d have no idea how to put on a tie, let alone do a Windsor knot.”