The worst part?
I hadn’t lied.
I really didn’t hesitate.
And I had no idea why.
Chapter 8
Kieren
I woke up pissed off.
Not that slow-burn irritation that eases with caffeine—this was full-body tension, every muscle aching like I’d been hit by a truck. My ribs protested when I stretched. My shoulder throbbed like it was ready to seize up. And my right hand? Still swollen from the punch I threw yesterday. Stupid. Satisfying. But stupid.
I’d didn't care about the fine. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I rolled onto my side, squinting against the morning sun leaking through the blinds. My phone buzzed against the nightstand, and I considered ignoring it. Ten seconds later, it buzzed again.
Groaning, I grabbed it. Cam, of course.
Take Daphne out. Today. Something low-key. Public but not staged. Try not to glower.
I stared at the screen. My eye twitched.
Take her out. Like this was normal. Like this entire fake dating contract to avoid PR fallout from my temper wasn’t already spiraling into some kind of twisted romcom.
I tossed the phone onto the mattress and let my head fall back against the pillow. This whole thing was a mistake. A bourbon-fueled, press-polished, emotionally irresponsible mistake.
Fake girlfriend. Fake date. Real headache.
Still, after a minute, I sighed and picked the phone back up. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid.
Lunch. 1PM. You in?
It took her less than thirty seconds to reply.
Try again. Use words a human would say.
I stared at that, blinking once. Twice.
Of course she needed the last word. And the word before that. And the tone. Always the damn tone.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I typed out the most polite version of myself I could fake without breaking into hives.
Lunch. 1PM. I’ll pick you up.
The typing bubbles popped up immediately.
See? That wasn’t so hard, Captain Sunshine.
Captain Sunshine.
I let out something between a laugh and a snort, but it didn’t last long. My body still felt like crap, and now I had to pretend to enjoy myself while holding hands with someone who knew exactly how to get under my skin.
She made it look easy. Hell, maybe it was easy for her. Maybe this was just another game.
But for me? This wasn’t just press. Wasn’t just damage control.
