Does that make me epically shallow, the fact that I’m considering all of this just to feel special and doted on? Maybe. But for the first time in years, I’m actually excited about something.
I sigh and look around the apartment. It’s spotless. When Carla gets home from her shift, the place will be fit for a queen.
It’s not long before six-thirty rolls around. I’ve spent a good hour getting ready, spending way too much time on the dress, hair and makeup, trying to look just right. I keep telling myself it’s because I want to look good for his publicist–who knows why–and that I rarely go on fancy dinner dates. I tell myself everything in order to pretend I’m not looking good for him.
See, I’m an expert at faking it already. And especially to myself.
When the buzzer goes off, I practically jump out of my skin. I grab my purse and hurry over to the intercom.
“Hello?” I say into it, hoping I don’t sound nervous.
“Hey sunshine.” God, even through a crackly speaker, his voice sounds sexy. I swear, I’m getting a little wet just hearing it, like it’s some sort of automatic reaction.
I clear my throat, ignoring the heat between my legs. “I’ll be right down,” I tell him. Then I take a moment to compose myself and get my hormones under control. I swear to god, earlier today I was so close to pushing him back on my bed and taking off his pants. It was so bad, I could barely look at him. Every time I met his eyes I was hit with a pang of desire, like a punch to the chest.
Not that looking elsewhere helped. His body in that shirt was just…there are no words. All I wanted was to grab hold of his arms and shoulders and climb him like a monkey. Then there was all the lewd and crude dirty talk coming out of his mouth and I was practically melting on the spot. There was a war inside me, a bitter battle between my brain and my vagina and I know next time my vagina might be the victor. I can already see the victory dance. Very similar to a touchdown but it results in an orgasm.
Ugh. I should have just had sex with him. Gotten it out of my system…again. Now if I actually end up going through with this crazy plan, sleeping with him has to be taken out of the equation. It’s one thing to be paid to be someone’s girlfriend. But when sex enters the question…no thanks. That going into pretty dicey territory.
You haven’t agreed to anything yet, I remind myself. Just go out for dinner and make your decision later.
I nod at my internal pep talk and go out the door.
Emmett is waiting outside the lobby. Of course he looks amazing, slightly more dressed up now. Jeans, a white button down shirt, skate shoes. Casual and completely fuckable all at once.
Shut up vagina.
“You look beautiful,” he says to me and for once his eyes don’t leer at my breasts.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the compliment as coolly as possible. Just because he said I look beautiful, doesn’t mean I need to swoon.
“Trying to impress me?” he asks as he starts toward an Audi, its silver sheen gleaming under the sun.
“I knew you were going to say that,” I tell him. “I was tempted to show up in what I wore this morning, just to prove a point.”
“Go braless? Best decision you ever made. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you did that for me too.”
“I didn’t even know you were coming over. You’re the crazy person who stalked me and showed up at my door.”
“Persistent as a mosquito,” he says as he opens the passenger door for me. “After you, sunshine.”
I snort and slide on in. Obviously my nickname is an ironic one.
“So where is this Autumn?” I ask him as I casually glance around the car. It’s really fucking nice. All black leather interior, walnut trim. But I can’t let him know I think that.
“At the restaurant already,” he says, starting the engine. It purrs like a dream. When he starts driving down the street, I’ve got that thrill going through me again like a rogue wave. I’m nervous and I’m excited. Just to be in a car like this, with a guy the world is talking about, off to some fancy restaurant. Maybe being his pretend girlfriend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Maybe it would just be a lot like this.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he turns to me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I say, my eyes fixated on his hand on the gear shift, his tanned, muscular forearm, the white shirt sleeves shoved up to his elbows.
“Why did the concept of money make you change your mind?”
I swallow, feeling a tad uncomfortable, even though I shouldn’t. It’s why I’m here. “Money talks, doesn’t it? Didn’t it buy you this car?”
“So that’s what you want? Cars? Designer clothes? Expensive shoes?”
I shake my head. “No, actually. I mean, those are all nice, though I doubt I fit into any designer clothes.”
“Baby, you have got to rethink your body issues.”
I give him a sharp look. “You just called me baby.”
“I did,” he says, grabbing a pair of aviator sunglasses from the center console and slipping them on. “You have a problem with that?”
He flashes me that stupidly handsome grin of his.
So of course, no, I don’t have a problem with it.
“Back to my question,” he goes on. “What do you need right now?”
“What do I need?”
“What will money buy you? This money. What are you looking for? We all have needs, we’re all looking for something. What do you think all of this will solve?”
I frown as I study him, wondering why he’s getting all philosophical.
“Is this some kind of test? Find out if I’m spending it on drugs or something?”
I expect him to laugh but he doesn’t. “I’m being serious.”
Well okay then. “I don’t know,” I say after a beat. “I’m working paycheck to paycheck. I have nothing in my savings. I feel like I’m just…surviving. Not living. I want to have enough money, or just some money, so that I can live for a while.”
“You mean not work?”
“No…I want to work. I just…”
“You don’t want the job you have anymore. You want to do something else.”
What is he, a mind reader? I rub my lips together. Definitely need some more lip gloss.
“You can tell me, you know,” he says. “Will is my friend but whatever you tell me, I’ll keep to myself. I know you don’t believe me but I don’t kiss and tell.”
Yeah right!
He reads the look on my face. “Okay, so sometimes I do. But whatever is between us, I’ll keep between us. You have my word, Alyssa. It’s good for something.”
I sigh, not willing to trust him yet. “I just need money.”
I can tell he’s not satisfied with that answer but he lets it go. “Well, don’t we all. But we haven’t even started negotiating yet. What if it’s not enough? What if it’s more than enough?”
“We’ll find out soon then, won’t we.”
The drive from my apartment in East Van to the restaurant is long, especially during rush hour. I wish I could say it was easy and comfortable between Emmett and I but I would be lying. All I could think about was his hands on the steering wheel and how they felt to grip me–strong, assertive and yet desperate. His fresh, herbal scent didn’t help either, it just added to the growing sexual tension between us. How on earth was this even going to work? I mean, really. What the hell was I doing?
But once we arrive at the seafood restaurant, things get down to business.
Emmett takes my arm like a gentleman–even though I know he’s anything but–and leads me toward the entrance where a tall, slim woman is waiting near the hostess desk.
Once she sees us together, she gets up, a big smile on her face.
Fuck. This must be Autumn.
She is absolutely gorgeous. Dressed in a short white shift dress that shows off her bronzed limbs and gleaming golden hair. Teeth as white and straight as a toothpaste commercial (gotta be veneers). Minimal makeup and a scattering of freckles across her nose. A fuchsia, velvet Gucci tucked under her arm.