“What is this?” There’s barely any space between us now.
She puts her hand on my chest, holding me back. “You coming on to me. If you’re going to pay me to be your girlfriend, I can’t sleep with you. I’ll feel like a whore.”
I didn’t think about that. “So let’s pretend you don’t sign the contract. Would you fuck me anyway?”
“If I didn’t sign the contract, I’d have no reason to see you again. So no.” She closes her eyes. “I just…I made a mistake last night with you. I can’t do it again.”
Fuck. A mistake. That’s not at all what I’ve been considering it. And yet I can’t blame her for feeling that way, even if it makes me feel a bit fragile.
“Are you saying there’s no way you can resist my advances?” I ask her with a grin.
Her lips press together in a thin line as she stares right into my eyes. “The last thing I want in this world is to add to your ridiculous ego but…you make it very, very hard.” Pause. Hint of a smile. “Pun intended.”
Smarten up, I tell myself quickly. This might work if you can just back off.
I nod and straighten, creating distance between us. I need to put on the gentleman act and just fucking behave for once.
“Okay,” I tell her, trying to seem as harmless as possible. “I’ll keep that in mind. So what do you say? Dinner tonight? If you don’t want to do it, then fine. No harm, no foul. But if you do…I promise your life will change. For the better.”
“Right. Because being Emmett Hill’s girlfriend is that amazing.”
“No. Because I’ll treat you like a fucking queen, the way no one else has, the way you deserve to be treated. I’ll take you to every fine restaurant you want, I’ll shower you with gifts and jewels, I’ll pay your rent, I’ll take you anywhere in the world. And you’ll be living a life you’ve only dreamed of for three months. I promise you I’ll make them the best months of your life.”
She doesn’t believe me. I can tell.
But I can also tell she’s up for the challenge.
Just like I am.
“Okay,” she says. Reluctant. “Dinner. But this better just be a dinner. I’m not down for threesomes unless they’re the male male variety.” She taps her fingers along her chin. “Then again, you did say I could have whatever I wanted.”
“Let’s save the negotiations for later,” I tell her. There’s an awkward moment where I’m not sure if I should kiss her cheek or shake her hand so instead I just dig my business card out of my jeans and hand it to her. “Now you have my number. Call me if there are any changes but I’ll be by at six-thirty.”
Then I pat her on the shoulder and leave her room, striding past her roommate on the way to the front door. She was hovering around nearby, obviously trying to listen and not caring if I knew.
“Hopefully I’ll be seeing you a lot,” I tell her and then I’m out of the apartment.
When I get to my Audi on the street, I take a moment to breathe. I’m having second thoughts again. I mean, I have money but I have no idea what Alyssa wants. I’m curious, of course, because whatever she wants will reveal a lot about her but at the same time, well, I’ve done my share of gay scenes before in acting but a real life threesome like that isn’t exactly up for negotiation. Thankfully, I don’t think she’s serious.
Then there’s the fact that our real relationship–if you can call it that–is a lot messier than it should be for people who have to pretend to be something else. There are a million things that could go wrong, one of them being that if I need to get laid by someone in the next three months, I’ll have to be especially sly about it or I’m going to cause an even worse publicity problem. If people don’t like destructive, playboy Emmett, they’ll hate cheating Emmett.
But if Autumn really thinks this will help, and could possibly get me future jobs, then it’s a risk I have to take. All I have to do is keep it in my pants and put up with Alyssa.
Sounds easier said than done.
Regardless, I text Autumn: She’s on for dinner tonight. Sounds interested.
And then I set off for home.
But once I get to my house, everything seems cold and empty. I have to admit, sometimes the beautiful things feel the most hollow. Even though Alyssa’s apartment was tiny and messy, it was full of life and energy. It reminded me of the way I used to live, especially when I was in London and doing theatre. I was often alone, but never really felt it. Being around Alyssa in her space…even for a short amount of time, it felt strangely comforting.
Guilt comes for me again, as it often does when I look at everything I have.
I remember where I came from.
I remember everything I’m still looking for.
It’s time to pay Jimmy a visit.
Chapter 7
Alyssa
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jackie asks me for the millionth time.
I sigh into the phone, cradling it between my chin and my shoulder while I wash the dishes in the sink. “I’m okay. Really. Go back to having sex with your husband.”
Jackie laughs. “You know we were having plenty of sex before we got married. The whole purpose of sex on the honeymoon is to produce a baby and guess what, we’ve got a bun in the oven.”
“And how is that bun making the oven feel?”
“Tired, actually. Plus, the traveling has taken it out of me. And I’m totally showing now, I’m just not huge, so when I walk around in a bikini, people can’t tell if I’m pregnant or just extra fat.”
“You look extra beautiful and you know it. You better go enjoy that sunshine. And I better not drop this phone in the sink.”
“Okay,” she says warily. “But text me. I know this whole thing is so fucking bizarre and I really hope no one gives you shit at work tomorrow. If they do, tell them they’re fired. On behalf of Will.”
“Jackie,” I can hear Will playfully chastising her in the background.
“Ha, will do,” I tell her. “Talk to you later.”
It takes me a moment to dry my hands before I hang up the phone. Normally it’s Carla’s job to do the dishes but today I needed something to do.
I’ve cleaned the entire apartment.
Anything to keep my mind off of Emmett.
I even tried to listen to an audiobook while vacuuming but the dirty talk that the hero was spouting reminded me way too much of Emmett. Fucking hell, he’s like a book boyfriend come to life.
And I might be his girlfriend.
Fake one, that is.
Ever since this morning when my entire world was flipped upside down, I’ve been faced with a dilemma unlike any I’ve ever faced before. Basically, Emmett asked me to not only be okay with those photos, but to actually do more of them. Staged of course, but still. I’ll be purposely thrust into the sleazy limelight.
To my credit, my first reaction was no fucking way. I mean, I figured he had practically stalked me and came over to tell me that he was filing a lawsuit against Perez Hilton or something and was going to find out who took the photograph and beat his fucking ass down. But then he opened his stupid mouth and came up with a proposition only an immoral fool would consider. And while I may be loose with my morals sometimes, this was something that really shook the ground I stood on.
But then I started to think about it. Obviously this whole thing would benefit Emmett and I really couldn’t give a shit if I help his image or not. He seems to think there’s some conspiracy against him, like it’s totally unfair that the media is painting him a certain way when he is, in fact, a certain way. They’re just reflecting the truth.
Then he said it would benefit me. Money, plus anything else.
And honestly, I could use the money. My savings account is nonexistent, I’m tired of scrambling from paycheck to paycheck. I’m twenty-eight and I feel like I have miles to go before I’m an adult. I want something to fall back on, a sense of security in a life that increasingly feels insecure. Plus, I have dreams that are probably fruitless and futile but money could at least give me a shot at them.
Of course there’s also the curiosity factor. The excitement. I’m not really sure what else Emmett could give me and I wouldn’t feel right asking for it but when he told me I would be treated like a queen with him, a little thrill ran through me. Every woman dreams about being swept off their feet but the way things have aligned in my life, I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. I’ve just had a string of dates and short-term boyfriends who never really looked at me as more than just another person taking up space.