Hey! Welcome back! I have so much gratitude for the amazing response that my first chapter got. I'm glad so many people are board for this journey because I am having way too much fun writing this.

This chapter is the shortest so far. Sorry! I wanted readers to get to know Mary and Matthew a little better on their own before they meet.

Chapter 2: Phase Two- Forget Anything Happened

"Tell me I'm making a bad decision," Matthew said, taking a huge gulp of Scotch. Then another.

"Wasting fine Scotch is a bad decision," Tom said, putting his hand on top of the glass to stop Matthew from taking another gulp of the alcohol.

It was 8:55PM and Matthew had the acceptance e-mail typed out, the contract signed, scanned, and attached. Now he was just morally berating himself about it before pressing send.

"Lavinia wouldn't be proud of it," Matthew groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"Nah, she'd think it's grand," Tom offered, "All she wanted a world with less pain in it. Think of all the people you'd help."

"A billion," Matthew mumbled into his hands.

He had done the research. 50 cents could provide treatment against common tropical diseases for one year. He could help a billion people with 50 cents.

"I can't say no, can I?" Matthew moaned.

"Not a chance," Tom said, "I'd be on your conscience. A billion people succumbing to tropical diseases all because you wouldn't pretend to date some rich girl for a few months."

Matthew groaned.

"Think on the bright side," Tom said, "From those tabloids we found, she's really hot. And I'm sure she had tons of experience- if you ever wanted to sleep with her it sounds like she'd say yes."

"Don't be crass, Tom," Matthew snapped.

They had spent the last few hours scrolling through online headlines about Mary Crawley in order to make the decision. He wasn't particularly pleased with what he had found. The last few months carried story after story of scandals. The most recently was particularly the most upsetting- her sleeping with a married man.

He hadn't dated anyone since Lavinia died. He felt sick that the first person he'd date after Lavinia, the woman who wouldn't harm a fly, the woman who constantly longed for a more loving happy world, would be Mary Crawley. The guilt of Lavinia's death felt fresh on his hands. To be replacing her so quickly with an heiress he hardly knew- It would be like dancing on her grave.

But that had been the awful part about the bribe. Robert Crawley, CEO, had made it way too hard to say no.

"I was just joking, mate," Tom said, clapping his shoulder, "But if you don't press send now, you will condemn a billion people-"

"Can you stop?" Matthew said.

He didn't want to think about condemning people to a terrible disease. One that he had far too much experience with. Tom was right; he couldn't have this on his conscience.

Send.

He pressed send.

It was done.

"What sort of man accepts a bribe to date a washed up reality star turned slut?" Mary asked, slumped in the chair at the bridal salon as she watched Sybil revolve in humongous white monstrosity.

"Don't call yourself that, Mary," Sybil chided, "It's not true. Do you think this is too puffy?"

"Definitely too puffy," Mary commented.

"The kind of man who agrees to that is the kind of man who can save billions of lives by accepting the donation," Sybil said, ushering over the assistant and politely requesting, "Something less puffy please."

She wandered off into the dressing room and Mary turned to her phone. She couldn't believe it last night when her father told her that Matthew had accepted the contract. Because Mary's life was now some sort of business deal.

Ever since she'd found out, she'd been turning the question around in her head. Just what kind of person accepts this?

She opened the text from Anna, whom she'd asked the same question to last night.

Anna: Okay, I have details. He was raised in Manchester. Did uni at Oxford, law at Columbia. Works at the UN in the World Health Organization doing some sort of law thing. He uses his vacation time to visit third-world countries to do aid work. Basically this man is a saint.

Perfect. She'd landed a man who is a saint; while she stayed this plague on society for doing nothing more than simply exist.

Mary: God, help me.

Anna: He can't hate you too much if he agreed to be your boyfriend.

Mary: I don't think he did this for me.

"Okay, what about this one," Sybil said, coming back out in a mermaid gown. Mary rolled her eyes, "Sybil you have the exact wrong body for that dress. Don't even bother looking at it- back, off you go."

Sybil pulled a face and shuffled back to the dressing room.

"You know," Mary called to her, "I could probably just find someone in Paris to make you something."

"No, I have to buy it from here," Sybil shouted back, "My best friend Gwen has some sort of distant relative that owns this place so I promised her that I'd buy my dress here. I don't need a designer gown."

"Whatever you say, Syb," Mary sighed.

"Besides, you design handbags," Sybil said, from behind the dressing room door, "So you can certainly make my wedding purse for me. Wait, are wedding purses a thing?"

Mary rolled her eyes and turned back to her phone.

Anna: He is really cute. Take it from someone who spent the last hour googling pictures of him. He'll be nice eye candy if nothing else.

Mary: Till his four months are over and he can go find someone worthy of his saintliness.

Anna: Mary, you underestimate your own worth.

"What about this?" Sybil asked again.

The dress was understated- cap sleeves, plain white lace, but it fit her perfectly.

"That's it," Mary said, straightening up, forgetting her problems to focus on her sister, "Sybil, it's perfect."

Sybil spun in it. "Really? Do you think so?"

"Absolutely," Mary said, standing to grasp Sybil's hands, "You look radiant. This is you."

Sybil's face looked bright, as she took her reflection, "Mary, I think you're right. I think this is it! We found it."

"We did," Mary said, smiling broadly at her little sister.

"Maybe our luck has changed," Sybil said.

Mary rolled her eyes at her sister's optimism, "You never had a lack of luck. You're engaged!"

"Well, you helped me find this dress," Sybil said, her voice earnest "So maybe you'll get a slice of my luck too."

"You're a darling," Mary said, pulling her sister into a hug.

Tom strode the few blocks from the subway station to his cousin's bridal shop. He remembered back when they had first moved to New York, when Tom was going to start law school and his cousin, Maeve, was beginning her internship at the bridal salon. The pair of them were so young then, fresh out of Trinity College with high aspirations for life in the Big Apple.

A lot had changed since then, primarily; Tom had abandoned law one semester into Columbia. He had decided that his heart wasn't it, so ended up pursing journalism instead, which he highly preferred. The only good take away from his dalliance into law was meeting Matthew. They were both young, foreign, and new the city. They had become quick friends, despite the fact that their lives had taken different directions. Seeing as Tom's parents were back in Ireland, Isobel had taken to mothering him in New York and Tom quickly became a member of Matthew's small family. Maeve was always invited too, but she was often too busy designing and altering to have time to get out much. In fact, Tom was surprised that he had wrestled her into having lunch with him today.

He walked into the salon via the back door where the studio was. That was where he normally found Maeve. He tried not to flinch at wedding finery surrounding him. It was a terrible reminder that he was nowhere close to settling down.

"Maeve?" He hollered into the storefront area. There was no one in the back, so he figured he could walk into the boutique part of the salon.

It was rather empty for a Sunday. Normally the shop was crowded on weekends. There were only two women in the shop.

The first was stunning. She was dressed casually in a pair of skinny jeans, black boots, and a caramel colored sweater. She had black scarf draped around shoulders dramatically. Everything about her outfit was understated, but clearly well made. This woman had money. Her long black hair fell midway down her back. There was something familiar about. Tom had definitely seen her somewhere before. She was seated on a bench watching the other woman who was clearly the bride to be.

The future bride was beautiful in a delicate way. She was clearly younger than the other woman, who resembled her too closely to be anything but her sister. She had a bob of black hair and a rosy complexion. The wedding dress looked perfect on her, hugging her dainty features in the right places. She was twirling in the center of the room, talking into her phone.

"Larry, I found it, I can't believe it," She was saying into the phone.

Tom felt a pang of sadness. This woman seemed so full of energy and beauty; it was a shame that she was getting married. Especially at such a young age, the man must be very special.

"You shouldn't be here," Maeve whispered, appearing at his side, "I told you to text me and I'd meet you outside."

"I don't see how it's a problem," Tom scoffed, "There is hardly anyone in here."

"Exactly, it's a private fitting," Maeve explained, her voice still hushed, "You know, cause they are famous?"

"They are?" Tom repeated, taking in the two girls. Fame would certainly explain their strange familiarity to him- and the obvious quality of their vestments.

"The Crawley Sisters?" Maeve repeated, "Do you live under a rock?"

Crap. No wonder she looked so familiar. It was Mary. Tom and Matthew had read every article they could find about her the night before. They had read all the salacious details of the past few months.

"As in Mary Crawley?" Tom asked.

Maeve tossed her eyes into a roll and focused them at the older of the two sisters. She looked up from a message she was sending on her phone just at that very minute. Her brown wrinkled in confusion and she strode over to them.

"Is anything wrong?" She asked cooly.

"You're Mary Crawley?" Tom repeated.

Maeve covered her eyes in shame, "You'll have to excuse my cousin. He clearly was born without any manners."

"You're the one who is going to date Matthew Crawley," Tom remarked.

Mary's eyes bulged, "How do you know about that?"

He could feel not just Mary's calculating gaze on him, but Maeve's confused glance taking him in.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Er right, so this might be a good time to introduce myself, I'm Tom Branson, Matthew's best mate."

"And he just told you about our deal?" Mary said, her voice panicked.

"I mean I don't think he made a thing of it," Tom said, shrugging, "I think just I know about it. And his mum. Their as thick as thieves those two."

"Sybil," Mary called, and her sister paused her twirling to look at her sister.

Right, Sybil Crawley. The darling of New York. The sweetheart of the Crawley family. The one engaged to Congressman Larry Grey.

"I'll call you later," Sybil said into the phone before hanging up and joining them.

"What's the matter?" She asked before putting out a hand and adding, "I'm Sybil, by the way."

"This is a disaster," Mary told her, shooing her hand away, "Apparently Matthew has been telling people about the arrangement."

"Sorry," Maeve asked confused, "What is this arrangement?"

"Oh screw it all," Mary snapped, "Half the planet is going to know about this before it even happens."

"I swear Matthew is an upright lad," Tom attested, "I'm just his best mate. You told your best mate about the arrangement too, I suppose?"

Mary frowned, "I did."

"And clearly your whole family knows," Tom pointed out.

"True," Mary acknowledged.

"So you'll be fine. I swear I won't say word and neither will Maeve here, if she has even figured out what we are talking about," Tom vowed, "And you know your family will stay mum. So don't fret."

"That's easy for you to say," Mary said, "You don't live in this world. If the press get word of any sort of scandal from me, I'll be ruined for good. I'll be made into a joke."

Tom felt a pang of sympathy for her for the first time. Maybe she was more than just a vacuous heiress.

"And that goes for Matthew too," Mary continued, "think of how it would look if it was revealed that Matthew Crawley, humanitarian health hero, had been bribed into pretending to date former reality star turned hoe, Mary Crawley."

"Mary," Sybil said with a little gasp, then sharply, "You've got to stop saying stuff like that about yourself. It's not true."

"Who cares? That's what the press says. What does it even matter what is true anymore?" Mary said, her voice ringing with a tired hopelessness.

"The papers aren't true?" Tom said, stopping for a moment.

"No," Sybil explained, "You see-"

"It's not important anymore," Mary said, cutting her sister off, her voice fierce. "Can you ensure that this secret never gets out?"

Tom felt a shiver go down his spine. Mary was so intense.

"I promise," Tom said.

Mary turned around to wander back into boutique, "And make sure that Mr. Crawley gets the message as well."

She went back to her bench where she took something from her purse. Tom thought it might be some sort of small animal. But he returned his attention to Sybil who remained in front of him.

"I'm sorry about her," Sybil said, "The most recent 'scandal' if we even want to call it that, has been particularly nasty for her and she had hardly gotten over the last one."

"That's unfortunate for her," Tom said.

"But that's the wonderful thing about Matthew," Sybil enthused, "He is going to give her her life back."

Tom smiled at Sybil. Clearly Mary's younger sister was less jaded and more optimistic.

"He's a good man and the whole family is grateful for what he is going to do," Sybil said, sincerely. "Will you tell him that too?"

"Certainly," Tom said, nodding.

"Will that be all for you today, Miss Crawley?" Maeve asked.

"Yes, thank you," Sybil said, "I'll go change and then leave it for you for the alterations."

She took a step towards the dressing room and then turned back to Tom.

"Well it was nice to meet you," She said, tentatively, "I'm sure we'll see more of each other."

Tom blinked at Sybil, looking so lovely in her wedding dress. Wedding dress, mate, he thought to himself, She's getting married. She's absolutely off limits. She shook the thought from his head.

"I'd like that," he found himself saying back to her.

Matthew returned home that evening to find a new e-mail from Robert Crawley CEO.

Matthew,

Thank you for accepting my contract. Welcome to our family. If there is anything you need for the duration your time with Mary, do not be hesitant to ask.

The next step is easy. For the next two weeks, forget anything ever happened. Mary's name needs to slip out of the papers before we can begin to fix it. If you dated her now, people would say it is too soon. Mary will return back to Paris in a few days and go to work as if nothing happened. You should act the same way. Of course, it goes without saying that no one should know about this arrangement. Gossip about our family travels far too quickly.

In two weeks, Mary will return to New York for Sybil's graduation. You will have dinner together at Chez François on April 25th. The next day the two of you will be spotted walking in Central Park. The following evening at a Broadway show.

The next week you will visit her in Paris. Await further instructions on that trip when it approaches.

I take these instructions to be simple, but if they baffle you for any reason, please let me know.

Sincerely,

Robert Crawley, CEO

"Shit," Matthew said, taking out his phone and jabbing Tom's button. He knew his mother wouldn't say a word about it- but Tom. He wasn't sure he had been right to trust him with the secret.

"Hey, mate," Tom's voice replied.

"Hey," Matthew said, standing from his desk, "Just so we're clear, the whole 'I'm dating Mary Crawley' thing is confidential."

"Right," Tom said slowly as Matthew walked to the mini-bar in his apartment to slug some scotch into a tumbler.

"Oh no, Tom," Matthew said, "What did you do?"

"I might have accidentally run into Mary Crawley and her sister," Tom said.

"Crikey," Matthew said, adding more scotch for good measure, "What happened?"

"Oh well naturally I made a complete ass out of myself," Tom said.

Matthew laughed, as he walked to his couch.

"I ran into her at Maeve's shop and I was so dumbstruck that I ran into I sputtered it all out," Tom explained, "And incurred her wrath."

"Wrath?" Matthew repeated.

"She's prickly alright," Tom murmured.

"Yikes," Matthew said.

"And I can't say I've helped you get her on your good side," Tom confessed.

"Brilliant," Matthew said with a sigh.

"But she's a knock out, maybe not as pretty as her little sister though," Tom said.

"Edith?' Matthew said, confused. "The novelist?"

"Who?" Tom said, clearly not knowing who he was speaking of. "No, I meant Sybil. The youngest one."

"Isn't she engaged?" Matthew said. He remember reading about how the Crawley's twenty two year old daughter was to be married.

"That would be why she was at my cousin's wedding dress shop," Tom said, practically.

"Of course," Matthew said. His thoughts turned back to Mary. He wasn't happy about the arrangement, but he was curious, "You said Mary was pretty though?"

"Stunning," Tom informed him, "Smarter than you think. You could tell." He paused, "And there is something about her. I don't think the tabloids have it right. I don't think she's the woman they make her out to be."

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked.

"When she talked about the press, she had this tired tone to her voice," Tom said, "And Sybil told her to stop saying harsh things of herself because they were true."

"You seemed to pay attention to what Sybil said," Matthew laughed.

"Can you blame a man?" Tom replied, "But about Mary, I think there is more her than meets the eye. She has a cold exterior, that's for sure, but you should give her a chance."

"I'm not sure I get a choice about that," Matthew said, bitterness lacing his voice.

"You know what else Sybil said," Tom remarked, "She said, 'That's the wonderful thing about Matthew. He is going to give her her life back.' You aren't just doing something good for those people with diseases- you are doing something good for Mary."

Mary Crawley was a household name for wild parties, celebrity gossip, and lurid scandals- did she deserve something good in her life?

Don't think like that, Matthew told himself. He spent his life defending vulnerable, maybe Mary was part of that too. He needed to stop seeing her as burden if this was going to work at all.

But right now, the whole, "Forget anything happened," part of the plan sounded luxurious. In fact there nothing Matthew wanted to do more than forget any of this happened.

"Maybe, Tom," Matthew said, "The good news is, I don't see her for another two weeks. So I don't have to really worry about this for a while."

"Right," Tom said, "You'll let me know if Sybil says anything about me?"

"Tom, she's engaged," Matthew chided, "And I'm not ever sure I'll get to meet her."

"Still, will you tell me anyway?" Tom said.

"Sure, Tom," Matthew replied, "Shall we meet up for tennis on Thursday night?"

"Sounds good, Matthew," Tom said, "Good night."

Matthew stretched out on the couch, letting his weary bones sink into the soft cushions of his sofa.

"Good night, Tom."

Reviews would be spectacular! Thanks so much everyone!