Page 19 of Fake

Maybe I misjudged him at our first meeting.

Maybe he was having a bad day.

Maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt and a little grace on my part.

“I am so sorry, Mr. West,” I say, breathlessly tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I assure you this is not typical of me.”

“Oh, come now, Hot Mess. I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

And that might be the end of the grace I have for him.

If his snarky grin didn’t make me bristle, the stupid nickname sealed the deal. I’m willing to put our bumpy start aside. He should be too.

“And please,” he continues as if he didn’t just insult me, “call me Nathan.”

How can someone so pretty be this rude?

“I’d rather stick with Prince of Darkness,” I retort with a sweet smile, then drop my jaw, realizing I’m in a business meeting…

…with a client…

…and after showing up half an hour late…

…I insulted him.

I clamp a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry?—”

“Let me guess.” Nathan coolly arches a brow. “You can assure me this isn’t typical?”

He’s got me there and we both know it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it to his smug face. After pausing to place my order—the cheapest salad I can find because this place is expensive with a capital E—I slide my tablet out of my bag. A quick flip through the screens brings up the project I put the finishing touches on last night. “This is my mood board for your build?—”

Nathan’s eyebrows imitate a rocket trying to break through the atmosphere. “Mood board?”

Great. He’s one of those. A stick in the mud who rolls his eyes at all things creative. I bet he’ll fight me at every turn. Second guess every color choice. Every fabric recommendation. Ten bucks says he’ll struggle to grasp that the pictures I included are about the feeling and the vibe, not actual design suggestions.

Why hire a designer if you don’t respect the craft?

But, rather than firing off another insult, I refresh my smile and do my best to explain.

“You know. Images, materials, and text that evoke the feelings and design I think are best suited for your home.” I angle the tablet so Nathan can see the screen. “I’m thinking dark blues, soft grays, and warm browns. Take the richness of this library here and combine it with the serenity of this lake. And while your outward vibe suggested metal and glass accents like these—” I point to a picture of an ultramodern skyscraper next to a surprisingly pretty close up of barbed wire covered in frost “—there’s something about you that calls for this greenery here. Something fresh and alive and…”

I trail off.

Nathan’s just sitting there. He’s not nodding or making any sounds of agreement or understanding. He’s just…

…staring…

…his eyes hardening on the image of the barbed wire.

Really?

How did that offend him? Tell me he doesn’t think he’s a sunshine and daisies kind of guy.

I slide the tablet away. “If this is the wrong direction, I can scratch it. Start over with new ideas. New feelings. New everything if you’d like.”

“No.” He tears his gaze from the picture to lock on mine. Something intense swims between us. Something charged and uncomfortable and I like it better when his eyes look like thorns because whatever this is feels vulnerable and that’s not good. I’ve watched enough movies to know being vulnerable with the villain leads to heartbreak.

“I hired you because I heard you’re a hidden gem,” he says, the intensity increasing. “I just wasn’t prepared for you to see me so clearly after only one meeting.”

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