Page 13 of Fake Out

“Trust me,” she says, her eyes shining with confidence. “As long as you both play your parts well and maintain appearances, no one will question it.”

“Okay,” I concede, choosing to put faith in her expertise. “How do we find this perfect woman?”

Her lips twist as she thinks about it. “She needs to be someone who can handle the pressure of being in the public eye without cracking. Someone genuine and kind-hearted so people will see you’re capable of being with someone like that.”

A sudden realization dawns on me. “Why not you?” I ask, surprising even myself with the suggestion.

Her cheeks flush a vibrant pink, and for a moment, she seems at a loss for words. “Me? Charlie, I?—”

“Think about it,” I interrupt, eager to make my case. “We already know each other, and we both have a stake in this arrangement working out. Plus, you know all the ins and outs of the industry. Who better to navigate this with than you?”

She hesitates, clearly taken aback by my proposition. But as she considers it, I can see the gears turning in her head.

“You’re right,” she finally admits, her voice filled with determination. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be fully committed.”

“Exactly,” I agree, feeling a strange sense of relief at her acceptance. “So, are you in?”

She hesitates for just a moment longer before nodding. “I’m in. But we have to be clear about something.”

“Of course.” I suspect I already know what she’s about to say.

“Nothing is going to happen between us,” she says, her tone cool and resolute. “This is strictly professional. Understand?”

“Absolutely,” I assure her, although a pang of disappointment courses through me.

Again, I remind myself that this is business, and the end goal is to rehabilitate my public image. Marissa is simply a means to that end, and I can’t afford to blur those lines.

“Good,” she says, nodding curtly. “Now, there’s one more thing I need to do before this deal is official.”

“What’s that?” I ask, curious as to what else could possibly stand in our way.

“Isaac,” she explains, her shoulders tensing at his name. “He has to sign off on this plan. We both know how important his approval is to my career.”

“It is?”

“I… well, yes. It is. He’s my boss, after all.” She avoids my gaze, and I decide not to press further; she did tell me not to ask personal questions.

“Will he go for it?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” she admits, her expression troubled. “But I’ll do my best to convince him.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I say, genuinely invested in securing Isaac’s approval. After all, without it, my career might never recover.

“Thank you, Charlie,” she says softly, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

As we part ways, there’s a new pep in my step. Things are looking up.

Marissa might be stiff as a starched shirt, but I can already tell that she’s a brilliant agent — and, by consequence, hopefully my saving grace. The fact that we might be playing house is a bonus.

It will be fun, going around town with her on my arm. Maybe I’ll even get to kiss her once or twice. Because when it comes to this “relationship,” the boundaries are removed, right?

A whistle slipping from my lips, I jump into my car and take off, ready for all the good that’s coming next.

CHAPTER 8

MARISSA

I hesitate outside Isaac’s office door, my heart pounding. I know this plan is a little unorthodox, and I’m not sure how he’ll react. But I’ve spent hours perfecting the details, and I’m confident it could work. So, taking a deep breath, I knock on the door.

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