“Stop.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
This was why I didn’t share things about my life often. Not because I didn’t want accountability, but because of other people’s reactions and expectations, whatever they may be.
I forced a calming breath through my nose before I addressed my friends’ points one by one.
“Yes, Christian is my fake boyfriend. Like I said, it’s a long story. He is not dangerous—I mean, he’s a little intense, but he runs a security company. His job is literally to protect people’s lives. Plus, he’s friends with Rhys, so he can’t be that bad. Last night was our first fake date, and no, he is not forcing me into this.”
The last part was definitely true. The rest was debatable, but I kept that to myself.
“I wouldn’t say he’s best friends with Rhys. They have…” Bridget paused, “an interesting relationship.”
“Forget Rhys,” Jules said. “No offense, Bridge. He’s great and all, but I want to know about the boyfriend part. Stel, you don’t even want a real relationship. Why on earth are you in a fake one? Are you in trouble?” Concern dimmed some of the sparkle in her eyes.
Guilt flared to life in my chest.
I hated burdening people with my problems, but I should’ve anticipated their worry. Any romantic relationship was out of the norm for me. I wasn’t opposed to dating, I just…wasn’t interested.
I liked the idea of it. When I read a romance book, watched a romantic scene, or saw cute couples at dinner, a yearning for something similar tugged at my gut. But once the book or movie was over and I re-entered the bright light of reality, the yearning disappeared.
Romanticizing love was easy. Falling in love was harder, especially when my previous relationships had all lacked…something. Some sort of emotional connection that would make the risk of falling worth it.
Plus, I’d gotten used to being single, and I doubted the reality of love could live up to my fantasies of it, so I didn’t even try.
“I’m not in trouble. I promise,” I said when I noticed Jules’s skeptical expression. “I just…” Need more social media followers so I can make more money. My skin heated at how shallow that sounded.
The truth was more complicated, but I couldn’t dig into it without telling my friends about Maura, and that was a conversation I wasn’t prepared to have at eight-thirty in the morning.
“I’m in the running for a huge brand deal, but I don’t have as many followers as some of the other girls. I figured I could improve my chances if I hit the million mark.”
Bridget’s frown deepened. “How does that tie in with getting a boyfriend?”
I reluctantly explained the rest of my plan. It sounded even more ridiculous when I said it out loud to people who weren’t familiar with the influencer world, but there was no point in holding back.
When I finished, the silence was a thousand times heavier than the one before.
“Wow,” Ava finally said. “That’s…wow.”
“Is sex part of the deal? If it’s not, it should be. Christian looks like he would be a beast in bed.” As expected, Jules was the first to get over her shock and jump straight to the dirty part. “No offense, but you could use a little lovin’ in your life. As much as we adore you, there are some things we can’t provide.”
“No, it isn’t, and it never will be,” I said firmly.
I’d made it clear to Christian that our arrangement wouldn’t encompass any physical displays of affection unless they were necessary to sell our public image as a couple.
Sex didn’t factor into the equation. At all. No matter how gorgeous he was or how good he might be in bed.
My skin heated at a mental image of a naked—
Don’tgo there.
This was what happened when I missed my morning routine. My brain freaked out and started picturing things it had no business picturing.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d fantasized about sex, let alone had it.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Ava’s concern was palpable. “You’ve never cared that much about your follower count before.”
I hadn’t obsessed over it the way other bloggers did, but saying I didn’t care was giving me too much credit.
Everyone trying to grow a platform on social media cared, and those that said they didn’t were lying.
Those little numbers could wreak havoc on anyone’s mental health.
“I’m not trying to be combative,” Ava added softly. “If this is what you want to do, we’ll support you. It just seems a little…”
“Out of character,” Bridget finished.
I stared at the half-empty takeout cup in my hand. “Maybe. But maybe it’s also time to try something new.”
I was twenty-six. I’d had one “real” job since I graduated and no significant developments in my personal or professional lifes. I considered blogging my second job, but a lot of people didn’t and I hated how I let their opinions affect the many hours of real work I poured into writing, styling, photography, and social media.
I was basically doing the same thing I’d been doing since college, only I was older and a little more jaded.
Meanwhile, Ava had moved to London (even if it’d only been temporary), got engaged, and landed her dream job traveling the world as a photographer; Bridget got married and became a freaking queen, and Jules passed the bar, became a high-powered attorney, and moved in with her boyfriend.
Everyone was starting new chapters of their lives while I was stuck in the prologue, waiting for my story to be told.
I swallowed the bitterness coating my tongue. If I didn’t shake things up, I’d be an unfinished manuscript forever. A thousand potential words that never made it onto the page. Someone who could’ve been something instead of someone who did something.
“Understandable. Change is the spice of life,” Jules agreed. Her face softened before she added, “Like Ava said, we’re not trying to challenge you on this. We just want to make sure it’s what you really want. If you’re happy, we’re happy.”
“I know.” I cracked a tiny smile. “At the risk of sounding completely cheesy…I love you guys.”
“Did you hear that?” Jules placed a hand over her chest and looked at Ava. “She loves us. She really loves us!”
“You know what that means,” Ava said solemnly.
“You guys—” I barely had a chance to put my drink down before they tackled me in a hug. “Stop!” I laughed, my earlier melancholy melting beneath their affection.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just over here in Eldorra, not jealous at all,” Bridget said.
I raised my phone so we could see her again. She wore a half-amused, half-envious expression.
“You need to visit us soon. We miss you.”
We hadn’t seen her in person since Ava’s birthday last year, when she’d surprised us at the party.
“I will, I promise.” Bridget grew serious. “In the meantime, be careful with Christian. He’s not the type of man who does anything out of the goodness of his heart.”
No, he wasn’t. But I didn’t need Bridget to tell me that.
After my friends left an hour later with promises not to tell anyone, including their significant others, about my deal with Christian, I showered and brewed myself a fresh pot of tea before I finally picked up my phone. I stared at the Instagram icon on my screen and held my breath as I tapped into my profile.
Oh. My. God.
I stared at my numbers, sure I was hallucinating.
Over one hundred thousand likes, four thousand comments, and ten thousand new followers overnight.
I pinched myself and flinched at the sharp burst of pain. Not hallucinating.
I’d expected good engagement on the photo with Christian, but I hadn’t expected this.
Giddiness ballooned in my chest while my mind raced with possibilities.
Would another photo with Christian go viral in a similar manner, or was this a one-off because it was the first one?
There was only one way to find out.
Visions of a million followers, six-figure brand deals, and paying an entire year’s worth of Maura’s care in one go with savings left over danced in my head.
Maybe I’d signed a deal with the devil when I agreed to my arrangement with Christian…
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it.
CHRISTIAN
I staredat Stella’s latest Instagram post from our ride to the fundraiser over the weekend. My hand on her bare thigh, the vivid green of her gown contrasting with the coal black sleeve of my suit.
Some photos were worth a thousand words. This photo said only one.
Mine.
A strange sensation sparked in my chest before I brushed it aside and tapped on the comments beneath the post. The reactions ranged from curiosity to joy to despair from hundreds of distraught men who bemoaned the loss of a chance with her.
Jayx098: How could you cheat on me like this? I already told my parents we were getting married 🙁
Brycefitness: ditch the bf and go on a date with me instead. I’ll make it worth your while 😉
Threetriscuits: i can also wear a suit and cufflinks. just sayin’
My eyes narrowed. I tapped on brycefitness’s profile and studied it. Big muscles. Small brain. Standard gym bro who thought he was God’s gift to women.
How many pounds on a barbell would it take to crush someone? Hmm…
A new text message popped up, disrupting my calculations.
Luisa: Christian Harper. You’ve been holding out on me.
Luisa: Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Stella??
A frown touched my face. I eyed brycefitness’s profile one last time before I closed out of the app. He’d gotten lucky.
Part of me, even the part that thrilled at the coppery scent of blood and fear, recognized my reaction wasn’t normal. It’d been one comment on Instagram, for fuck’s sake.
I had a business to run, yet here I was, scrolling through fucking social media on my burner account.
No profile photo, no bio, no followers. One following.
The turquoise ring burned in my pocket as I typed out a response.
Me: It was irrelevant.
Stella hadn’t shown my face in the photo, but enough people saw us together at the gala for news to spread.
Apparently, the news had since escaped the confines of D.C. society and reached New York.
Luisa: You acted like you didn’t know her at the dinner!
Me: I didn’t want to sway your decision.
There was a long pause before she replied.
Luisa: What decision?
Me: Don’t lie, Lu. I’m better at it than you are.
Luisa: You’re such an ass.
Luisa: Anyway, it wouldn’t have swayed my decision. I’m 95% set on who I want our next brand ambassador to be.
I stared at the text. My fingers drummed an absentminded rhythm on the armrest.
After another moment of deliberation, I replied.
Me: I’m glad. It’s been a long time coming.
Neutral, semi-disinterested.
She took the bait, as I knew she would.
Luisa: You’re not going to ask who it is?
Me: I was at the dinner too. The answer is obvious.
I left it at that. Luisa was smart enough to know who I meant.
A knock split the silence.
I flicked my gaze up. “Come in.”
Kage entered, so tall and broad he barely fit through my office’s door frame.
“I hear you got a girlfriend.” He wasted no time in cutting to the chase. “How did I not know about this?” An accusatory note crept into his voice.
He was my oldest and, now that Rhys was gone, my most sought-after employee by clients. He was also the only person at Harper Security who didn’t blow smoke up my ass—a liberty I granted him for saving my life in Colombia a decade ago.
“I run a security company, not a gossip magazine. My personal life is no one’s business.” An edge ran beneath my otherwise indifferent tone. His liberties only went so far.
Kage held my stare for a second before he looked away. “Understood. But the team is curious. You dating an influencer is…unexpected.”
I leaned back in my chair and steepled my hand beneath my chin. My phone had been blowing up all day with people expressing similar sentiments. Every new message and call chipped away at my patience, and Kage’s observation was no different.
“Been looking into her, have you?” I asked coolly. Stella’s social media was out there for everyone to see, but the thought of my guys poring over pictures and videos of her sent a surge of irritation through my blood.
“Uh, well…” Kage ran a sheepish hand over the back of his neck.“We looked her up during lunch.”
Christ. Every employee at Harper Security was ex-military or ex-CIA, yet they gossiped like high schoolers.
“She’s hot.” Kage sank into the chair opposite mine. “Somehow, I’m not surprised your girlfriend looks like a goddamned supermodel. It’s the charmed life of a billionaire CEO,” he added dryly.
A dark flame kindled in my chest before I smothered it.
“The only thing I’m interested in discussing right now is how we lost the Deacon and Beatrix accounts,” I said coldly. “Not my girlfriend.”