Oh, wow. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “Okay, you’re right. We’ll go with your place. Separate rooms I assume?” Her voice sounded prim.

“Absolutely. Once we’re inside, nobody has to know what goes on.” He grimaced. “Well, except for the staff.”

“Staff?”

“I have maids and an assistant.” His smile curled up on one side. “You don’t think I’d clean six bedrooms myself, do you?”

He had a point. Most guys she knew of did well picking up their dirty socks. “I’ll need an extra bedroom for my business, too. Preferably close to a bathroom or a kitchen.”

“There’s two kitchens. You can have one of them . . . after you remind me what it is you do again.”

“I make soaps and sell them online.”

His blank look told her that it was clearly something he’d never considered before. “People buy soap online?”

She chuckled. “Oh, heck yes. Mine are artisan soaps, and I have a vegan line that’s very popular.”

“Vegan soap? Why is soap vegan?” His lip curled.

“Because people oppose using animals?”

“Yes, but you’re not eating the soap, are you?”

“It’s still made with glycerin, which is made from animal hooves.” She leaned over and elbow checked him. “Can we not get distracted by soap talk? We’re discussing room arrangements. And since you’re the billionaire, I’m going to need you to pay for me to break my lease.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You gonna pay me back?”

“Hey, you need me. I don’t need you,” she said, voice teasing. Truth was, she kind of did need him. The thought of another person puttering around the house—even if it was his house—filled her with such relief that she knew she was going to take him up on this ridiculous offer, no matter how weird it got.

“Fair enough. I’ll break your lease for you.” He nudged her back with his elbow, a buddy move. “And you need a kitchen for soap. That’s easily done. And I can make the staff sign NDAs about our sleeping arrangements.”

“Or we can just tell them you snore.”

“Or we can do that.”

Chelsea drummed her fingers, thinking. There was a lot to consider with a marriage. “Do I need to take your name?”

“I don’t know. You think it’ll be suspicious if you don’t?” He rubbed his chin, thinking.

“Maybe we can hyphenate. How long is this sham marriage thing going to last? If we’re only doing this for a few months, there’s no point in changing my name.”

“It has to be longer than a few months, or that’ll cause more scandal than it’ll fix.” Sebastian considered. “Would you be okay with two years?”

Two years and she’d be tied to him? It seemed like a long time to date someone . . . but then again, this was platonic. She wasn’t interested in him romantically, just as a friend. And she’d lived with Pisa for three years, and that had gone by in a blink. “We can do two.”

He looked relieved. “You’re pretty easygoing about this.”

Chelsea shrugged. “I’m not after your money, so what’s there to argue over? I assume you want a prenup? I’m really not interested in cashing in.”

“Oh, there will need to be an ironclad prenup or my lawyers will freak the fuck out.” He grinned. “But I’ll give you a settlement. Whatever you think is fair.”

“One million dollars,” she said, quoting Dr. Evil. She raised a pinky to her mouth.

Either he didn’t get her joke, or he didn’t realize she was joking. “A million’s fine. You do know this will be in the tabloids for a month or two, right?”

She shrugged. “I’m not thrilled about it but I figured as much. I promise to be polite and only shoot them the bird every now and then.”

He snorted. “Shoot them the bird as often as you want. Just be ready to be followed.”

That sent a prickle down her spine. “But you’ll be with me, right?”

“Of course. I’ll be holding your hand like a properly newlywed husband.” He reached out and clasped her hand in his.

She looked at their joined hands. So very odd, to be contemplating a quickie, sexless marriage between friends like this. But it just made so much sense, and it’d help both of them. “You think people will buy that we married for love?”

“I think they’ll buy it on my end,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “You’re kind of hot.”

Chelsea grinned at him. “You’re not exactly liver cheese yourself.”

“Liver cheese?” He looked aghast. “It’s clear you’re not doing the grocery shopping in this relationship.”

She stared at his mouth for a moment, another thought occurring to her. “We’re going to have to make this look real, aren’t we?”

“Only if we don’t want to be in the tabloids for a lot longer than we already will be.”

“Then we should practice kissing to make sure that we can do it, and that it doesn’t mean anything.”

His brows drew together. “I’m sorry, but that sounds ridiculous. Practice kissing? What next, a practice fuck?”

“God, no.”

Sebastian laughed. “The way you said that wounds my masculine ego.”

“It’s not you,” she said, patting his arm with her free hand. “I’m just not interested in fucking anyone at the moment.”

He gave her a speculative look, then shrugged. “You want to practice kiss? All right with me.” He leaned in and gestured at his mouth. “All yours.”

An uncomfortable knot formed in her stomach. She had to do this, though. If he tried to kiss her and she freaked out on him, that wouldn’t work. She needed to make sure she could do this before moving ahead with the fake marriage.

So Chelsea leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. His lips parted under hers, and she pushed her tongue into his mouth, all the while fighting panic. She was going through the motions, her tongue stroking against his, licking at him. Then, when it seemed adequately long enough for a decent kiss, she pulled away.

There. That wasn’t so bad. “Perfect. Didn’t feel a thing.”

Sebastian rubbed his mouth. “Yep.”

*   *   *

Holy. Fuck.

This . . . could be a problem. Sebastian kept rubbing his mouth as his driver took him home that night. After the kiss, they’d agreed to get together again tomorrow to hash out a few more details and help her pack up her apartment. Then, they had returned to the party, where Chelsea had clung to his side, her hands wrapped around his arm.

It was pretty clear she’d felt absolutely nothing in their kiss. The delighted look she’d given him and the way she’d hopped up like she’d gotten a reprieve from prison? That told him everything he needed to know.

Unfortunately for him . . . he hadn’t felt “nothing.” He’d felt quite a bit, actually. The moment her full lips had brushed over his, he’d felt electrified. And then she’d glazed her tongue over his mouth.

And his cock had become instantly alert.

Sure, he was a guy. He was going to get erect when a gorgeous woman kissed him. When she pressed her body up against his and slowly, sensually tongued his mouth, he’d felt a massive jolt go through his system despite telling himself they were just friends.

But now he couldn’t stop thinking about . . . what if they weren’t just friends? What if they had a marriage with some benefits on the side? What if they crawled into bed together and had hot, nasty sex . . . with no strings attached? Just for fun? He imagined Chelsea’s plump lips curving around his cock and clenched the door handle.

It was clear she wanted this as friends only, though. He shook the thought out of his head.

Marriage of convenience. No more. No less. It was what he needed, and even he admitted that sex just fucked things up. If he wanted an example, he just had to look at Lisa.

As the driver dropped him off in front of his building, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. He flicked his fingers over the screen even as he walked inside, nodding at the doorman.

Safety Date Chelsea: I forgot to mention something earlier. I’m going to need Tuesday nights, Thursday nights, and Saturdays to myself.