Page 37 of My Real Love Affair

Fair enough. The nickname was probably too intimate for a fake relationship. But I liked the fact that it affected her. I’d keep that in my back pocket for later.

“Fine. No baby girl.” I paused. “In public. What I call you in private is negotiable.”

“Austin—”

“I’m kidding. Mostly.” I smiled. “Look, I get it. This is a lot. And you’re right to be cautious. So here’s what I propose. You think about it. Take your time. And if you agree, we’ll draw up a proper agreement. Ground rules. Boundaries. Whatever you need to feel comfortable.”

“Ground rules,” she repeated.

“Yeah. Like what we’re comfortable doing in public. How often we see each other. What we tell our friends and family. How we handle the media. All of it spelled out clearly.”

“This is crazy,” she finally said.

“The best things usually are.”

CHAPTER 12

MELODY

Itook a bite of the fish. It was, of course, amazing. But I could barely taste it. My mind was stuck on what he had said. Austin Bancroft had just proposed a fake relationship. A business arrangement. He’d laid out all the benefits like he was presenting a merger proposal.

Which, I supposed, he was. And the worst part? The absolutely mortifying, ego-crushing, heart-sinking worst part?

For about thirty seconds there, I had thought this was a real date. I let myself believe he actually wanted to spend time with me. That maybe, just maybe, someone like Austin Bancroft could be genuinely interested in someone like me.

Cleo had been right. Keep your guard up, she said. He’s a player.

I just never expected the game to be this calculated. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I pushed my sea bass around my plate. It was delicious—perfectly cooked, beautifully plated—but it might as well have been cardboard.

He was courting me and playing pretend. The whole thing was an act. A transaction.

God, I was an idiot.

“You okay?” Austin asked. I looked up to find him watching me with concern. “You got quiet.”

“Just thinking,” I managed to say.

“About my proposal?”

“Among other things.”

Like how humiliating this was. Or the fact I had actually gotten butterflies getting ready for tonight. Or that we spent an hour picking out the perfect outfit for a date that wasn’t even real.

But as I sat there wallowing in my embarrassment, another part of my brain—the practical, business-minded part—started to see the logic in his terms.

I was desperate. There was no point in pretending otherwise. My reputation was in tatters, and I had no idea how to fix it. My follower count was already dropping.

I needed help. Real help. The kind of help that came with resources I didn’t have.

And Austin was offering exactly that.

With his last name and the distraction of our “relationship,” I could hide from the worst of the hate while working to rebuild. I could use the Bancroft name as a shield while I figured out my next move. And when we eventually “broke up,” hopefully I’d be in a better position than I was now.

It was strategic. Smart, even.

It just also happened to be completely mortifying.

I couldn’t get a real boyfriend, so I had to fake it.