“Please. Every post of yours is curated within an inch of its life,” Axel shot back. “You probably have spreadsheets for your spreadsheets. Don’t pretend you’re serving them unfiltered reality when you spend twenty minutes finding the perfect angle for your morning latte.”
“Planning content is different from outright lying,” I protested, though his words hit uncomfortably close to home.
“You can never believe what you see on social media anyway,” he said. “People’s lives are always different than what they portray online.”
Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. Should I be checking his browser history forhow to spot catfishortrust issues support groups?
“What if the public realizes it’s fake?” I wondered.
“Then your careers are over,” Rebecca said bluntly. “So, you’d better make it convincing. Starting tonight. Go home and pack your things, Dakota.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“You’re about to be engaged. You live together.”
The room suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter. Living with Axel Pierce? Seeing him first thing in the morning with his hair messed up and his guard down? Watching him pour coffee in whatever he wore to bed? (Please let him wear something to bed.)
I opened my mouth to object, but Rebecca was already packing up. “This is your only option. Take it or leave everything to burn.”
I sank back into my chair, meeting Axel’s gaze. He looked equal parts brooding and amused, like he knew exactly what sharing close quarters would do to me.
“Fine. Get me that rusty spoon,” I said.
His mouth twitched, and for a moment, I saw a flash of the old Axel again. Naturally, he replaced it with antagonism. “Buckle up, Sunshine.”
I rose to my feet, gathering what remained of my dignity. If Axel Pierce wanted to pretend to love me, to resurrect that intoxicating charm he’d perfected years ago, I’d make damn sure he regretted every second of it.
“I might have to appear nice to you in public, but so help me, in private, I’ll make sure this is just as miserable for you as it is for me.”
His eyes locked with mine, and when he smiled, it was pure sin. “I’m counting on it.”
The promise in his voice sent heat racing through me, and I realized with growing horror that this fake engagement might not be the worst part of this arrangement.
The worst was how part of me—the delusional, clearly-in-need-of-help part—was looking forward to it.
2
SINNERS AND SAINTS GROUP CHAT
AXEL
Jace: Dude, WTF? You’re moving in with a woman? YOU? *head exploding emoji*
Blake: Did you lose a bet? Get blackmailed? Suffer a traumatic brain injury?
Ryker: Wait, WHAT?
Jace: Scarlett just told me. She’s already making a Pinterest board for housewarming gifts.
Blake: This is the kind of thing you tell your best friends about. IN PERSON. With scotch.
Ryker: You’re moving in with someone? What’s next, matching Christmas sweaters?
Jace: Not just anyone … Knox’s sister.
Ryker: *skull emoji* Seriously? I thought you two hated each other with the fire of a thousand suns. Didn’t she once call you Satan’s disappointment of a son?
Blake: And didn’t you retaliate by putting her number on Craigslist as someone selling a “gently used hot tub” for $50?
