Page 30 of Fake Out

“Really? That’s great!” she exclaims. “Tell me more.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed, eager to share all the details. “Charlie was amazing in the presentation. He was confident, engaging, and he really sold himself.”

“Wow. It sounds like you two make a fantastic team.”

“We do,” I agree, my thoughts drifting back to the moment when Charlie looked at me during the meeting, his eyes filled with gratitude and admiration. “You know, he’s actually much more than just a good-looking guy with a killer smile. He’s smart, driven… really hardworking.”

“Uh-huh,” she replies, her tone suddenly teasing. “Sounds like someone has a crush on their client.”

“What — no!” I sputter, my cheeks flushing at her suggestion. “I’m just saying he’s a great athlete, and we work well together. That’s all.”

“Sure, Marissa.” She chuckles knowingly. “Just be careful, okay? Mixing business and pleasure can get messy.”

“Ria, seriously,” I insist, trying to sound casual as I hang up my clothes in the closet. “It’s not like that. We’re just two professionals working together. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“All right, all right,” she concedes. “But just remember: you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. Don’t let anything or anyone get in the way of that.”

“Trust me,” I say firmly, determined to prove her wrong. “Nothing will.”

“Okay. Good to hear. I need to run, but hugs and kisses. Text me later?”

“Will do. Bye.” I hang up the phone and toss it onto the bed.

I try to finish unpacking, but I’m too distracted. My cheeks burn as I pace around my hotel room, replaying Ria’s words in my head. As if I would let myself fall for someone like Charlie…

He’s a playboy. He’s unpredictable. He’s… a charming, unbelievably handsome athlete with a wicked sense of humor.

Gulping, I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling a mixture of annoyance and unease. My best friend knows me better than almost anyone, but she doesn’t know Charlie. We may have some undeniable chemistry, but we’re both professionals who are focused on our respective careers. There’s no way I’d risk jeopardizing everything I’ve worked for over some silly crush.

As I get ready for the dinner we have planned tonight, I slip into a sparkly black dress that clings to my curves and makes me feel confident and beautiful. The dress isn’t for him, of course. Not at all.

It’s for me.

Tonight, I want to celebrate the success Charlie and I have had so far. I want to play the part of the smart, amazing businesswoman I am.

I quickly apply makeup and style my hair before giving myself a once-over in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me looks poised and powerful, a vision of the woman I’ve always wanted to become.

As I stride out of my hotel room, the lingering unease from my conversation with Ria begins to fade. I’ve always been good at separating my personal feelings from my professional life. This time will be no different.

I just need to keep my eye on the prize and remember why I’m here: to build a successful career as a sports agent, not to fall head over heels for some charming, irresistible athlete.

The hotel lobby is a symphony of soft piano music and low murmurs, but the moment I see Charlie, everything else fades into insignificance. He stands there looking every bit the debonair gentleman in his impeccably tailored suit and tie. My breath catches in my throat, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if this is how people feel when they’re about to drown.

“Hi,” he says, his voice warm and inviting as he takes me in.

I can tell by the way his eyes linger on my sparkly black dress that he’s just as taken with me as I am with him. For a moment, I falter. Maybe I shouldn’t have dressed up tonight.

Then again, he did, and we had already decided to go somewhere fancy. It’s not like I could show up in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Hi.” I smile. “You look nice.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smooths his hand down his suit. “I figured I’d dust this off for the occasion. You, uh, look beautiful.” He ducks his head, and there’s something boyish and charming about the gesture.

“Thank you.”

He offers me his arm, and I link mine through his, feeling the solid strength of his muscles beneath the fabric of his suit. Together, we walk out of the hotel, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor.

We arrive at the restaurant just down the street, and I have to admire Charlie’s taste. It’s an upscale establishment with dim lighting and a sophisticated atmosphere. The hostess leads us to a table that’s tucked away in a quiet corner, surrounded by gauzy curtains that provide a sense of intimacy without completely shutting us off from the rest of the room.

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