But why? We are dating, aren’t we? Damn it . . . if I ever want to win her over, I need to figure out what makes her tick. I’m not above asking for help. And who knows a woman better than her best friend?

I already know Camryn works in the marketing department. Tracking down her cubicle is easy from there. When I find it, I see it’s a mess of papers and folders, one of those chaotic systems where I’m sure she’d try to convince me she knows where everything is.

She’s typing away, and when I stroll up, her fingers suddenly stop and her eyes lift to mine.

“How can I help you?”

I almost laugh. She’s so formal. She and Olivia are definitely cut from the same cloth; I can see why they’re such good friends.

“I need to talk to you about Olivia,” I say, and Camryn’s brow furrows.

It crosses my mind that maybe she won’t want to help me. I decide to lay all my cards on the table and see if my candor will make her bite.

I lower my voice and lean in closer. “You know about the whole marriage contract, right?”

“Yes, and I’m not going to help you try to convince her, if that’s why you’re here. Olivia’s a big girl, and she can make up her own mind.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Fine. What do you need? I’m not exactly Team Noah, you know?”

“That’s fine, because we’re both Team Olivia.”

She swivels her chair away from the keyboard and faces me. “You have five minutes.”

“Why is Olivia so opposed to this? I hate to be so cocksure, but most women drop their panties at my slightest interest.”

“Olivia is not most women.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

“So, what seems to be the problem, lover boy?” She shifts her weight in her seat, looking me over with an amused expression. She’s enjoying my desperation way too much. “I never imagined that Noah Tate, the legendary sex god, would have any problem seducing a woman.”

“Sex god, eh?”

She shrugs. “Are the rumors true or not?”

“Depends on which rumors you’re referring to.”

“That you have a magical nine-inch dick that tastes like strawberries?”

I burst out laughing despite myself. We’re in a crowded work area with people sitting well within earshot, and she’s discussing my cock like we’re picking out carpet samples.

“As much as it pains me to say this, let’s get off my dick and onto the topic at hand.”

She squares her shoulders. “Right. Olivia.”

“Tell me what she likes. Hobbies. Interests. Things she enjoys.”

Camryn takes a second to think it over. “She works her ass off all week, which I’m sure you know. So if you’re referring to the weekends, she likes watching rom-coms and has a secret romantic side. She buys herself a bouquet of peonies at the farmers’ market every Saturday.”

“That’s good.” I pull out my phone and type peonies into the notes app. “What else? Favorite color? Food?” I already know she likes dirty martinis and red wine, but charming Olivia will take a lot more than just liquoring her up.

“Green. Like money.” Camryn grins. Olivia always was an overachieving powerhouse. “And she loves tapas.”

“Isn’t that just appetizers for dinner?”

“Basically,” Camryn says with a shrug.

“Got it. Anything else?”

She looks away for a moment. “Well, there is one thing, but I don’t think you’re going to want to hear this.”

“Lay it on me.”

“She has this scrapbook of her dream wedding. She’s been adding to it since she was a little girl.”

“Olivia?” My eyes widen. “The same Olivia Cane who protested getting married has dreams of a grand wedding?”

“Exactly. She’s always dreamed of a big, beautiful wedding. She’s actually really mushy underneath that hard shell. What her mom and dad shared was special, and she’s ultimately looking for the same thing. The perfect wedding. The perfect husband.”

It all hits me at once. “And this arrangement crushes her lifelong dream.”

“Well, yes.”

Camryn seems oblivious of the huge bombshell she just dropped on me. It doesn’t matter if I know Olivia’s favorite color or dinner spot. She wants the one thing I can never give her—a real happily-ever-after.

My heart sinks a little. No matter how well we’re getting along, I’m not foolish enough to think I could fill in for her soul mate. Unless . . . I swallow as a wave of nerves hits. Holy freaking matrimony. Am I ready for that?

“One more thing,” I ask Camryn. “Why doesn’t she ever date?” Not since that douche of an ex in college have I seen Olivia with another man.

“Basically? She’s a picky bitch,” Camryn says with a fond smile.

“She’s waiting for her Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet.”

“Something like that.”

“Thanks, this has been really helpful.”

“Good luck,” Camryn calls as I head toward my office. She lets the you’re going to need it go unspoken.

Fuck . . . I’ve got my work cut out for me.

Chapter Twelve

Olivia

On Noah’s tuxedo-clad arm, I walk into Clair de Lune, a five-star French restaurant overlooking the East River. Escargot, caviar, white tablecloths, hundred-dollar bottles, the whole nine yards.