Andrew's gaze flickered with something unreadable—triumph, relief, maybe even something deeper, something he wasn't willing to admit. He studied her as if he could see the hesitation in her stance, the silent war raging within her.
"Two weeks," he answered. "Maybe three, depending on how things go."
Amelia swallowed hard. Three weeks of pretending to be his mistress again? The very thought sent her heart racing, but whether it was from dread or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure.
She folded her arms. "And what exactly do you expect from me?"
His lips twitched slightly, but there was no amusement in his expression. "Just what you did before—be by my side, smile when necessary, play the part convincingly."
Play the part.
Amelia exhaled sharply. "You mean lie."
Andrew
