Rory shifted in her seat, feeling the loose legs wobble underneath her. "I'm sorry," she said as her eyes flitted around the room from wall to wall and up to the ceiling. "But this is a joke, right? Like a prank or something? I'm being Punk'd?" she turned back to Logan. "Do I need to smile because I'm on Candid Camera?" She plastered a fake smile on her face.

"Rory…" Logan started, hoping and failing to get a word in to explain.

"What? Did you think to yourself—'Hey, remember that awkward, crying girl who humiliated herself by crashing into me and then dropping her bra on the floor? That was comedic gold. Let's set her up for an even more mortifying encounter and get it all on tape.' Is there a secret camera in your lapel pin or something?"

Logan looked down at his suit. "I'm not wearing a lapel pin," he informed her. "Those things are tacky as hell."

"You know what I mean," she huffed.

"No," he insisted. "I don't. This isn't a joke, I promise. It's a business arrangement."

"A business arrangement?" Rory repeated incredulously. "What kind of business arrangement could you possibly want with me and an engagement ring? Are you planning some kind of Ocean's 11 jewel heist? Because you're cute, but you're no George Clooney."

"You think I'm cute?" Logan asked with a smug smile.

Rory glared at him. "You're no George Clooney," she repeated.

"Look," Logan exhaled, getting back on track. "I get that this seems extreme and kind of out of the blue, and well…it is. But all I'm asking right now is for you to hear me out. I told you, you are in no way obligated to say 'yes.' If you hear what I have to say and you want nothing to do with it, I will walk out of here and we can both forget it ever happened. Nothing will change."

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, eyebrows arched high. "Fine." She huffed. What else was she supposed to say? This was her boss. More than her boss, really. He was the most powerful man in the company. One of the most powerful men in the industry. Sure, he said he wouldn't hold it against her, but how could she take that chance? Besides, she was a journalist, curiosity was in her nature. If she kicked him out now without hearing the whole story, the unanswered questions would eat her alive.

"Alright," Logan nodded resolutely, trying to use his body's cues to tell his nervous system he was in charge of this situation. He pushed back his seat and stood, hoping that it would help with the nervous energy coursing through his body. He was about to hand her all the ammunition she could ever need to bring him and the entire company down. He was taking a huge leap of trust here. "I'm about to tell you something that only a handful of people know about. Something that could have profound effects on the future of Huntzberger Publishing Group and everyone who works there."

"Look, you already pretty much reached the pinnacle of suspense when you pulled out that garish, diamond…" she waved her hands at the ring still on the table before them, "monstrosity. So if you could just get to the point…"

"You don't like the ring?" Logan asked, sounding completely affronted. Logan had always been told he had excellent taste. Women never complained about his choice in jewelry before. Although maybe he had gone a bit overboard with this. But it wasn't some little trinket for a girl he was just having fun with; it was an engagement ring. It was supposed to be big and flashy—wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, do I look like Kim Kardashian?"

"Umm…" Was this a trick question? If he said 'no' was she going to get all insulted and claim he didn't think she was as hot as Kim Kardashian?

"Geez, it's not a trick question…" Seriously? Was she reading his mind? "The answer is 'no.' No, I do not look like her. And that ring might be fine for the Kardashians of the world, but that's not me. Not that you would know that because we are basically strangers," she pointed out. "But it's not. And I just…maybe you should find someone who does like that ring to help you with whatever this 'business arrangement' is."

"Look," Logan shook his head, sitting back down and snapping the lid of the jewelry box shut. "The ring is irrelevant. You don't like the ring? We'll get you another ring. But you are the right person for this…job. I know it."

"Mr. Huntzberger," she sighed. Her curiosity was abating. It didn't matter why he was asking her this; it was insane. There was no explanation he could give that would make this any less insane. He needed to find someone else for whatever out-there plot he was hatching up.

"Call me Logan," he reminded her.

"Mr. Huntzberger," she repeated more forcefully this time. "I just don't think I am…the right person for this job." She pushed her chair back, standing up and preparing to show him out. "Really. I think you should go."

"If I don't get married by my birthday in February, I lose the whole company," he blurted out. No time like the present. He needed to get her attention and he needed to get it quick.

She turned around, blinking at him in shock. "Excuse me."

"If my father were alive, he'd kill me for saying that without getting you to sign a full-fledged NDA first and get it notarized. Then again, if my father were alive, I wouldn't be in this predicament. But the point is, I'm putting a lot of trust in you right now, and I'm hoping that will, in turn, help you feel like you can trust me." He reached into his suit jacket again and this time pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. "This is a copy of my father's will—at least the part of it that is pertinent to this conversation. Once I give this to you, you'll have everything you need to ruin me if I go back on my promise to respect whatever decision you make here."

Rory looked from him to the paper in his hands and back to him again. With a reluctant sigh, she sat back down in her seat. She accepted the document, unfolding it and letting her eyes scan the legal text on the page, trying to make sense of the strange stipulation and the ramifications of not meeting said stipulation.

"Is this for real?" she asked.

"I'm afraid it is."

She looked up at him with a look of naïve skepticism. "But this can't possibly be legal."

"You wouldn't think so," Logan agreed. "And yet no less than three very expensive lawyers have told me it is and that it would stand in a court of law. Plus, if I did want to fight it, I'd have to take it to probate, which would make it public record. The entire world would know my own father didn't trust me to run the company without a woman by my side. And there's no guarantee it would make it through probate before my birthday which means they could rule against me and it would be too late at that point to do anything about it. So you see, this is the only option."

Rory looked from the paper to Logan, feeling a tug of sympathy for the man. How must it feel to have your own father have so little faith in you? To have him not trust you to not only run the company you were raised to take over, but to run your own life. To have his very last act be not a confirmation of how much he loved you, but an edict to manipulate you into a life choice he expected of you. She wasn't a complete stranger to her family thinking they knew what was best for her, but in the end, they always accepted her choices—accepted her—even when they didn't understand. She couldn't imagine her mother or her grandparents forcing her hand like this.

And in the midst of trying to juggle both the grief and betrayal of his father's passing, he now had to turn his whole life upside down and give up all of his own hopes for his future just to save his family's legacy.

"Okay," she nodded, "fine, so you need to get married." She looked up to meet his eye and slid the piece of paper back to him. "But I'm sorry, I still don't see what that has to do with me. You've dated plenty of women who would be thrilled to get a ring from Logan Huntzberger. I'm sure you'd have no problem finding someone who wants to marry you."

Yes, she felt sympathetic for the man. But that didn't make it her problem.

"I won't do that." He said. "This isn't a real marriage; it's a marriage of convenience. The expectations need to be clear from the outset; we get married, we go through the motions, we put on a show when needed for the stockholders, and in two years we part ways. No feelings, no emotions, no commitments. Like I said before…it's basically a business arrangement." It wouldn't be fair to use someone who actually wanted to marry him; someone who had secret hopes that once they married him, he would fall madly in love with them and they'd live out their days in some Hallmark movie fantasy. That wasn't going to happen. And sure, there were women who'd just be happy to take the divorce settlement and run, but how could he really tell which was which? That had always been his problem, only in reverse—he never knew which women were interested in him for his money, and which were interested in him for him.

"That still doesn't explain why you're asking me," she reminded him. "Or quite frankly, why I should give up two years of my life to help you."

"Because I can help you too…or your family at least." Rory wasn't interested in him. And she wasn't interested in his money. She was interested in helping her family. That's why he knew he could trust her.

"How? They may be having money problems, but you can't just throw money at it and make it go away. My Grandpa is a proud man, he won't accept a handout."

"The company has dozens of properties that need to be insured. HPG is a family-owned business; once we're married it would only make sense to switch our insurance carriers over to keep things in the family. And Richard might not accept a handout, but he would accept a formal investment in the business, especially since I'd have a stake in making sure they succeed—what with them being the ones insuring all our buildings. I'm sure I could convince some of my friends with their own businesses to support him too. Once he has a solid wall of allies who won't jump ship at the first sign of trouble, Floyd will back off. He doesn't want that many powerful enemies."

Rory sighed. Sure, she supposed it could work. But so what? She loved her grandparents. But enough to do this? Enough to sign her life away for the next two years? These were the prime years of her life, the years where she was finally settled down in her career and now she was supposed to settle down and start a family. If she did this, she'd wind up a 29-year-old divorcee. And then what? What if her person was already taken by then? Or what if it took her another two years to find them? Then she'd probably want to date for a year or so, another year for the engagement, and they'd want to enjoy some time just the two of them before they had kids. By that point she'd rapidly be approaching her mid-thirties and her fertility would be on a downward spiral. And what if they wanted a little brother or sister for their first child?

There was her career to think about too. She'd worked too hard to get where she was to let rumors of sleeping her way to the top throw her off course now. What if no one took her seriously anymore? Or on the other end of the spectrum, what if she started getting undeserved praise and assignments she hadn't earned in an attempt to suck up to the boss? What happened after their arrangement ended? Would she be able to continue to work for her ex-husband? Would anyone else want to hire her?

And on top of that there was the huge leap of faith that this man sitting before her wasn't an ax murderer or a rapist or physically or emotionally abusive. If she married him, she'd need to live with him at least. What if he was a slob? Or he liked to walk around buck naked, or he had loud, crazy parties until 3AM. There was a reason she lived with her childhood best friend; the mere thought of finding some stranger on Craig's List to room with after graduation had sent her into a full-blown spiral. Was this really that different?

She loved her grandparents and didn't want their lives to fall apart, but they were strong, successful people capable of taking care of themselves. They would figure it out. They would be okay. They'd have to make some adjustments to their lifestyle but it wasn't like they would be homeless and living off food stamps; she was sure her grandpa had a plan.

"I'm flattered. I think. Sort of. I mean, I appreciate that you want to help…even if it is also for selfish reasons. But this is just…crazy. I'm not going to marry a complete stranger. I just…I can't. It's not just a job or a business arrangement, it's my whole life. My whole life would be a lie."

"I know this is asking a lot. But it wouldn't be your whole life. You'd have freedom, lots of freedom. And there would be perks too. I mean, the money obviously…"

"I don't care about the money."

"You're a journalist. Just imagine all the amazing connections you'll make. There's got to be someone you'd love to meet." One name came immediately to her mind. One person she'd always dreamed of getting to meet. He could clearly see it in her face. "See? Who is it?"

"Christiane Amanpour," she admitted shyly.

"Well, the White House Correspondent's dinner is coming up in a few months. And she always attends the annual Huntzberger charity gala we have in the summer."

The White House Correspondent's dinner! She could barely fathom it; her in a brilliant ball gown hobnobbing with the biggest names in journalism and maybe even meeting the president. It was something she'd dreamed of for as long as she could remember. The mere thought of it was almost enough to get her to say yes…Almost.

"I mean, that would be amazing but…"

"Do you like to travel? You could go anywhere. Paris, Madrid…"

"Fez," she replied dreamily out loud without even thinking about it. She'd always wanted to go. Ever since she was a kid. Every time her grandpa gave her money, he'd tell her it was for Fez, but still, she hadn't found the chance to go yet.

"Fez!" Logan concurred. "You could go to Fez. Private. No getting to the airport two hours before the flight. No taking your shoes off and getting pat down by TSA."

"That does sound amazing…" Rory agreed, letting herself descend into the fantasy for just a moment. "Ooh, and maybe I could take a detour to Marrakech and stay in the same villa Anna Delvey stayed in." She could almost picture herself lounging in a cabana by the pool drinking wine, reading The Spider's House and getting fanned by palm fronds. She hated herself a little bit for that last part but hey, at least she wasn't Anna Delvey.

"Who?" Logan asked.

"Anna Delvey," she repeated. His face remained blank. "Anna Delvey," she said again. "You know, the chick who pretended to be a German heiress and swindled New York's socialites out of hundreds of thousands of dollars?"

Logan still didn't react. "You are a New York socialite, how do you not know this?" she practically shouted, leaning forward across the table in astonishment. "They made an entire Netflix show about it."

"Oh, right." Logan nodded, a small degree of recognition coming over his face. "I think my friend Robert's cousin got taken by her."

"Oh my god." Rory buried her face in her hands. Who was this man? His life was so beyond anything she could imagine. It was literally the life she watched on television. She didn't fit into that world. Who was she kidding even for a second letting herself take this idea seriously? It was just a fantasy. And sure, it was nice to daydream about it for a minute, but that's all it was…a dream. Just because she was presented with the opportunity to make it real, didn't mean she should. She had her actual life to think about.

"What? Is it really that big of a deal that I didn't know who she was? I don't exactly have a lot of free time for watching Netflix and I think this was going on back when I was in school, so…"

"No, it's not that…" she shook her head forlornly. "It's just, you and me…very different people. I don't stay in five-star hotels and fly private; I fly coach and stay in hostels. I don't hang out with people who were swindled out of more money that I make in a year; I watch them on TV. I don't wear 5-karat diamonds; I wear little, silver charm bracelets."

"It's two-karats. Three when you add in the smaller diamonds. And besides, I told you, we can get a different ring."

"That's not the point," she threw her hands up in frustration. Why didn't he get that she wasn't the right person for this? Whatever made him think she was? "I just…this isn't my life."

"You're scared."

"Of marrying a stranger?" she scoffed, "Yeah, that's part of it."

"No." He shook his head. "You're scared of the lifestyle. You're scared of all the opportunities this will open up for you. You're scared you might actually like it."

Her face became serious. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't know me."

"I know you're close to your Mom. I know she doesn't approve…that she took you away from society life when you were a baby. I know that you didn't go to Yale like your grandfather because your mother didn't want you to. I know that even though you're close to your grandparents, you've always tried to distance yourself from their lives and the people in it, keep to the periphery…like at Chilton."

She felt her chest tighten with anger. "What? Did you have me investigated or something?"

Logan shrugged. "You think I'm going to ask someone to be my wife—even my fake wife—and not do my due diligence?"

"How dare you!"

"Look, it's not a big deal. It's not like I got ahold of your medical records or something. I just asked around, checked out your social media. There's nothing I found out about you that you couldn't find out about me. Hell, if you want to know about me just ask. In fact, I'll just tell you. I'm not close to my parents...obviously. My father clearly thought I was a big screw up. I went to five different boarding schools growing up and got kicked out of four of them…one for driving the Dean's Miata into the lake. I went to Yale undergrad, which you know. My favorite color is blue. My favorite book is The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but I'll tell people it's The Old Man and the Sea. I've been in one serious relationship before and I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together but ultimately she chose a large hadron collider over me. Oh…and I suck at golf."'

And there she went feeling sorry for him again. Sure, he tried to throw in that stupid golf fact. But she'd seen the shadow that had passed over his face when he'd talked about his ex.

"Isn't golf, like, a religion to your people?" she replied, ignoring the emotional confession.

Logan shook his head. "No. They don't take religion nearly that serious; they spend Sunday morning at the golf course, not the church. Which is just another reason my father thought I was a screw-up. 'How can you close a deal on the golf course, son, if you're spending all your time in the sand.'"

"I'm sure that's not true," she tried to assure him. But she wasn't sure at all. In fact, all signs pointed to it being very true. He was fighting so hard for the opportunity to fill some very big shoes and the man who had stood in those shoes before him seemed to think he couldn't do the job. But the fact that he cared enough to jump through all these hoops and give up on his own chance for a love that actually supported him—that had to mean something right? Anyone willing to go to these lengths to save the company had to have what it took to lead it. Being willing to make sacrifices and hard choices was the very essence of leadership. Maybe his father thought he didn't have what it took, but she did.

Logan just shrugged.

And in that moment, she actually did wish she could help him. But she wasn't willing to make the hard choices and sacrifices. She just wasn't. She wanted to help him, but this was just too much to ask.

"I'm sorry, Logan," she said. "Truly, I am. And I really hope you find the right person to help you with this but…it's just not me."

He looked at her, taking in the regretful look in her eyes combined with the resolute square of her shoulders. "That's your final answer?" he asked even though he knew it was. It was over. His gut had been wrong. Maybe he should stop relying on it. It had failed him with Natalie. It had failed him with the Algonquin Group. And now it failed him with Rory. Maybe his father had been right to be wary. Maybe he didn't have what it took to run the company. He clearly hadn't inherited the man's instincts.

"It is," she nodded, pushing the copy of the will back across the table towards him.

"Keep it," he told her. "It's your insurance. Your guarantee that I won't go back on my word and hold this against you. Although I might only have a few more months to hold it over you anyway, so…" he shrugged.

"You'll find someone."

"Thank you for hearing me out," he said as he pushed back his chair and stood. "I can see myself out." He started to walk towards the door.

"Logan." He stopped walking and turned to face her.

She approached him, paper in hand. "I trust you…to honor your word." She held the page out to him. "I don't need insurance. And you will find someone. Someone better than me for the job. And you'll become CEO and you will do an amazing job of running this company. I know you will."

He felt the words cut just slightly through the solidifying shell of his own self-pity. It would have been nice to have someone like her by his side. Someone who said those words and actually believed them. Someone who supported him. Even if it was just a partnership of convenience. "You have an awful lot of faith in me…considering we're practically strangers."

Rory smiled back at him, folding the page of the will in quarters and sticking it in his jacket pocket. "Yeah, well…" she shrugged. "you're a 'Yale Man,'" she teased. "And Grandpa likes you so…"

"So." he repeated back with a strained smile of his own. A silent moment passed between them as they stood just inches from each other. And then, with a resigned sigh, he turned and left.

AN: Oh no! She said 'no.' What will Logan do now? Will he find someone else? Will give up the company? Will he go back on his promise and harass Rory until she changes her mind? As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think.