Page 3 of Fake it With Me

“He’s flying in to meet me?”

“He’s very motivated,” Della said again, like that explained everything. “From what I understand, this is a very urgent situation. He would need you to step into the role right away. You indicated your classes were over?”

“They are.”

“And you’re available?”

“I am.”

After we hung up, I stood there for several seconds just processing everything. The late spring breeze pushed through the window, carrying the smell of someone’s cooking from another apartment. Something with garlic and onions. Something that wasn’t croutons.

I should have felt excited. Or scared. Or something.

Instead, I felt numb. Like I was watching myself from outside my body, observing some other Liza Jefferies make increasingly questionable life choices in a shitty studio apartment in New York City.

I put the croutons away. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

The next day, I stood in front of my closet, which was nothing but a pipe attached to the wall. I was trying to figure out what one wears to meet a potential fake boyfriend billionaire. I was a student up until about a week ago. Dressing up meant putting on clothes that had only been worn once before and didn’t have icky stains.

I settled on jeans and a blouse that wasn’t too wrinkled. Professional but casual. The kind of thing that wouldn’t look weird in a coffee shop but also suggested I had my life together. Which was a lie, but that was what interviews were for, right? Professional lying.

I did my makeup in the cloudy mirror above my sink, my hands shaking slightly. This was insane. I was insane. I was about to meet a stranger who wanted to pay me an obscene amount of money to pretend to date him. Part of my brain kept screaming that this was how horror movies started.

But another part of my brain—the part that had eaten croutons for dinner three nights in a row—told the first part to shut up and get to the subway.

The coffee shop was in Midtown, nice but not too nice. The kind of place where you could get a latte with oat milk but also a regular cup of coffee without anyone judging you. I walked in five minutes early, my heart hammering against my ribs.

And then I saw him. I knew it was him because Della had told me he would have a single white rose—because that wasn’t creepy.

He sat at a corner table, and the first thing I thought was, Oh no.

He was hot. Not just regular attractive, but the kind of hot that made you forget how to form sentences. Dirty blond hair starting to gray at the temples. Strong jaw. Broad shoulders. Forearms that were tanned and corded with muscle.

I almost swallowed my tongue.

And then his eyes met mine. Blue. Not regular blue. Like the sea before a storm. That stormy, dark shade that warned of big waves that would pull you under.

Standing there just inside the doorway I had my first ever premonition—the man was dangerous. Not kill me and dispose of my body dangerous, but the other kind. The kind that meant devastation of the mind, body, and soul.

2

DAREK

I’d been sitting in that coffee shop for twenty minutes, nursing a black coffee that had gone from scalding to lukewarm, when she walked in.

And I forgot how to breathe.

She wasn’t what I had expected. I didn’t know what I expected, honestly. Della hadn’t sent photos, just assured me she’d found someone “perfect for the situation.”

I was assuming she’d send me some twenty-something blonde with big tits and oozing sex. The idea of renting a girlfriend still didn’t sit right with me but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The woman staring at me with an expression I imagined matched my own was not a twenty-something blonde with big tits.

Well, she did have a very nice set of boobs and she did have blonde hair, but it wasn’t a dye job and me, being a very discerning man, knew those boobs were God given.

Bless you, Father.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, practical and no-nonsense. Her bright blue eyes locked on mine. And curves. Holy shit the woman had curves that would make a man forget his own name. Curves I had no business noticing because this was a business transaction, nothing more.