Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

for the remainder of the season. A few storylines we’re considering. Some of which depend on you.” She pauses. “Can you tell me if you’re planning to earn that bonus with a proposal in the finale? Have you come to a decision on that yet?”

I don’t hesitate, even though I’m not technically required by my contract to give Nadine a firm answer on that, in advance. “I’m not going to propose in the finale,” I reply flatly. And I have no doubt it’s the right decision as I say it. Mimi was the primary reason I was considering doing it. But now that Laila and I have already told Mimi we’re engaged, what would be the point? In fact, I can’t imagine anything more cringey-ass and embarrassing to me than getting down on bended knee in front of my actual girlfriend and fake-proposing to her on a reality TV show.

“Is there any way I can entice you to change your mind about that?” Nadine asks. “Maybe sweeten the pot to get an affirmative commitment from you right now?”

There’s nothing Nadine could say to change my mind, but, still, I figure I’ll hear the woman out. “What do you have in mind, Nadine?”

“What if I told you there’s a jeweler who’s willing to supply a ring to you, in a value up to half a million bucks, in exchange for a sparkling shot of the ring during the proposal and a post on Instagram afterwards by you and Laila. All you have to do is remain ‘engaged’ to Laila for six months after the finale, and the ring is yours. When you and Laila ‘break up,’ you can sell the ring and keep the proceeds! Split them with Laila, if you like, or keep them for yourself. Totally up to you.”

She’s high if she thinks this scenario sounds even remotely attractive to me. “Not interested,” I say simply.

“Okay, then. I’ve got authority to add another quarter mill to the bonus we’ve already put on the table—which brings our offer to a half-million bucks, if only you’ll agree now, in writing, to commit to making the proposal in the finale. All we’d require is that you and Laila continue playing happy couple for six months after the finale, including making daily social media posts, and after that, you two can do whatever you want. Date whoever else. Or ride off into the sunset for real, if that’s how you’re feeling. At which point, you’ll have a ring to keep or sell and half a million bucks.”

Listening to Nadine talk, it dawns on me there’s no amount of money, no dangling carrot, no free diamond ring, that would ever make me fake-propose to Laila. And not because the moment would be cringey-ass, which it would be. But because I love Laila. Because after all the puzzle pieces have finally snapped into place for me, thanks to our amazing conversation last night, a dam has broken inside me and there’s no turning back. I love that girl, with all my heart and soul, and I’m one hundred percent sure of it. And guess what? I’m positive getting down on bended knee, looking up at Laila with a ring in my hand, and saying those sacred words to her, without truly meaning them, will fuck things up for us beyond repair. Maybe not that same day. But down the line.

Likewise, if I get down on bended knee, ring in hand, and ask Laila to be my wife—and actually do mean those sacred words—then blowing that once in a lifetime memory by doing it on reality TV would haunt me for the rest of my days. I don’t know if I want to get married one day. I don’t know if I’m capable of being anyone’s husband. Not even Laila’s. But if I decide to propose to Laila in the future, then I’m going to do it right. And not because Nadine Collins wants me to do it, as some sort of ratings grab.

“I tell you what,” Nadine says, apparently interpreting my silence as a “no.” “We’ll let you tell Laila about the proposal in advance. That’s what’s concerning you the most, right? That you’d propose to Laila and she’d think it’s real—and then, you’d have to tell her the truth afterwards?”

Yet again, Nadine’s words are helping me understand my feelings. Contrary to what Nadine thinks, I’m not worried about Laila thinking my proposal is real. I’m worried about her thinking it’s fake. I’m worried about having to tell Laila, after the fact, “Oh, no, that was really me asking you to marry me.” Obviously, telling Laila about the proposal in advance wouldn’t solve that problem. If I told Laila in advance about my plan to get down on bended knee, Laila would assume the proposal would be fake. And then, wouldn’t she feel at least a little bit disappointed about that, after everything that passed between us last night? On the other hand, if, somehow, I got to the point two months from now where I felt certain I genuinely wanted to propose to Laila, then I sure as hell wouldn’t tell her that in advance. Not for all the money in the world. So, really, how could a proposal in the finale, real or fake, not end badly for me? “I’m not going to propose to Laila in the finale,” I declare. “Not for any amount of money.”

Nadine doesn’t speak for a long moment, but I can hear her wheels turning over the phone line. Finally, she says, “I was hoping for a different answer from you, Savage. The truth is, in the absence of a confirmed proposal in the finale, we’re going to need to shake things up a bit.”

Goosebumps erupt on my arms and neck. “Shake things up how?”

“You and Laila are going to break up this week. And we’re going to terminate her contract.”

Fucking bitch. Laila was right. “You can’t do that, Nadine.”

“Actually, I can. There’s a buy-out clause in Laila’s