Page 22 of Fake

“Subtlety isn’t one of your finer points, is it?” Nathan leans in and I can’t help myself, I lean even closer, drawn into his orbit like a sun-diving comet.

“Atta boy,” I retort with a sly smile. “Keep insulting me. That’ll convince me to pretend to be your girlfriend, for what? One night? A week? Longer? What are you asking for here?” I swipe my water off the table, sit back, and take a dramatic draw on the straw while Nathan scowls.

“Longer.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“We negotiated sixty percent off your design fee for my text to Benjamin. Let’s make it twenty instead.”

I snort so hard water comes out my nose. “That’s a joke, right?” I ask, choking on the rest of my drink. I grab my napkin and cover my mouth as I cough, then pull it away when Nathan doesn’t laugh. “You’re joking?”

“I’m the villain, right? Why would I joke about something like this?”

Right. Duh. Rich assholes never joke about money. How silly of me to hope an offer that offensive wasn’t real. Too bad I need every dollar I can get my hands on, or I’d storm out of Nathan West’s life forever. No amount of money is worth this kind of humiliation.

But Mom is.

I do some quick math in my head, then bring Nathan back into my sights.

“Seeing as anything less than a hundred and ninety percent of my original price is clearly a joke, you can see why I’d wonder.” Adding that much money to our contract would mean I could pay off Mom’s treatment and still have a little left over for myself. Not enough to get me out of that crappy apartment, but a start.

Nathan sits back, folding his arms. His eyes narrow as thoughts tick across his face. For a moment, I wonder if he’s about to say something profound. Something that helps me see the man Mason expected me to meet when he gave his cousin my name.

But then Nathan smirks, and I remember who I’m dealing with. “You realize that means I’d be paying you to date me.”

“Seems appropriate,” I reply with a smirk of my own. “As that’s the only way anything would happen between us.”

“And is basically illegal,” he counters, his eyes narrowing wickedly.

I summon every villainous thought I’ve ever had—most of them centered around people like him—and let them linger in my smile. “No, that’s prostitution and trust me. We’re fine. You don’t have to worry about us having sex. Ever.”

A passing waitress glances over in surprise, takes stock of Nathan, then looks sorry for him. Not me, the woman who’s being asked for a ridiculous favor. Him, the man who can ask that favor without blinking an eye. I get it. He’s pretty and I’m raving about prostitution. But if she’d been around for the rest of the conversation, she’d drop her tray in his lap to high five me.

“A hundred,” he says, chewing his lip in defeat. “We’ll call it a favor for a favor.”

“I have to pretend to like you, so your favor is bigger than mine. A hundred and twenty percent.”

Nathan’s eyes harden. His smile dies. He stares just long enough to make me uncomfortable. “Fine,” he says in a voice that isn’t. “A hundred and twenty percent.”

I reach across the table, and we shake on it. “When do we start?”

“My family is throwing a party for my birthday. I’d like you there.” A smile lifts Nathan’s lips and for one brief moment, he feels like sunshine. Like eyes closed, sitting on the beach with nothing to do but breathe and let the waves crash and recede, crash and recede…

“You should do that more,” I say before I think better of it.

“Do what more?”

“Smile. You have a nice one and it makes you so much easier to be around.”

And just like that, black clouds boil over the horizon, the ocean churns and the sun disappears. “Careful, Hot Mess. It’s not too late for me to change my mind.”

As much as I’d like that to happen, I promised myself I’d take every financial opportunity that came my way. No matter how outlandish or bizarre. Mind you, I was thinking bizarre might be something along the lines of professional pet food taster or water slide tester, not fake girlfriend to a rich asshole. But here we are.

“I’m sorry. Those are inside thoughts,” I say, tapping the side of my skull. “They won’t make their way outside again. When is this birthday party?”

Nathan’s smile reappears, but there’s no sunshine in sight. This is one that belongs to a villain.

He makes a show of checking his watch, then sits back, looking…mildly concerned?

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