Page 11 of It's Not All Fake

“Chloe,” he continues, his voice lowering. “There’s a blank check with your name on it. Pick your price, and I’ll make it happen.” He sits back, a smug look on his face.

What. The. Fuck.

I am aware that my mouth is gaping open.

I pause to suck in a breath of air so I can regain the ability to speak. “Are you suggesting that I sleep with you for money? Have your children so your mother can have grandchildren?” I am suddenly dizzy, trying to wrap my mind around his proposal.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I didn’t make myself clear. I’m asking you to play the role of my girlfriend for a price. Pretend to be my girlfriend in public.”

Oh. It finally clicks. I understand now what he is asking, and I deflate. It shouldn’t feel like a slap in the face, but it does.

I wonder about my own reaction. He doesn’t actually want to fuck me and impregnate me and I’m feeling disappointed? I almost laugh.

My damned, sex-starved, primitive brain seems to be in the driver’s seat during this conversation despite my best efforts. That part of me is taking over and I feel… angry.

“No.” My firm reply coordinates with my action as I stand and walk away from him. I stop near my desk with my back to him as I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself.

“Chloe, my mother loves you. She would be ecstatic,” I hear him plead softly.

“Does Olivia know anything about this?” I turn around to face him, my eyes narrowing in accusation.

“No, she knows nothing, and she will know nothing.” He seems sincere.

Liam holds my gaze as he stands up. I feel my body tense and I back against my desk.

“I won’t bite, Chloe.” He smiles, walking over to me and leaning against the armchair I just fled. “Look, this can be good for both of us. I want it to be really good for both of us.” His tone sounds suggestive, but I immediately dismiss it as my own projection.

He is very close to me now and I swallow hard. I notice a scar, a thin diagonal slash near his temple that catches the light, adding a touch of rugged character to his otherwise polished appearance. I wonder about how he got it but realize it’s one of the many mysteries about Liam I may never uncover. He is a closed book and completely uninterested in being vulnerable. He would prefer to watch me squirm.

“You are perfect,” he says plainly, his eyes roaming my body head to toe as if he’s giving me a final appraisal. I absolutely hate it and love it at the same time. “You’ll be good for my PR image too—soften me and show I’m not some loner.”

I scoff. “But you are.” I can’t believe I’m some pawn to him. “Faking a relationship to make your mother get off your back and improve your PR image will not work in the long run,” I seethe. “What happens when we ‘break up’? Have you thought of that?”

“Yeah, I have,” he says quietly. “She needs to see that I am capable of a relationship. I just want to give her hope, Chloe.” He shrugs and I can tell this is a sore spot for him. It sobers me.

I detect pain underneath his plea, and I realize there’s something I don’t know. Something in the past. Some reason that drives him so much to take care of her.

“Liam, I can’t,” I say, gently now. “It’s so unbelievably unethical.”

“Why?” he asks, confused.

“I can’t date—or fake date—a client or even a former client. It’s spelled out in our code of ethics,” I explain.

He nods, knowingly, as if he had prepared for this hiccup. “I read our agreement. It says I have expectations as a client to fully engage and ‘commit’ to the coaching process, but I never did,” he smiles, as if he’s delighted by how bad he was at being a client. “I didn’t uphold my end of the deal, so—legally—we were never truly in a client-coach relationship.”

I chuckle. Great. I deluded myself into thinking we were making some kind of progress when he never took this seriously.

I shake my head. “Appearances matter. If people even think we ended a client-coach agreement so we could ‘jump into bed together,’ it could still kill my reputation. They’re not going to care about how much you were ‘committed’ to the coaching process. They’re just going to think that I sleep with clients.” I wave my hand as if painting the picture for him. Doesn’t he get it?

“But who’s going to know about the coaching? Only my mom knows.” He tousles his thick, chocolate-brown hair, thinking through the situation. “I’ll explain to her that she can’t divulge our prior relationship due to your concerns,” he reasons. “And you have to keep my confidentiality, right?”

He has a point. Maybe people wouldn’t know, as long as Olivia can keep a secret.

He smiles because he knows he has me. He stands up straight and moves even closer, as if already playing at being an intimate couple. “Chloe, I want this, and I think you do too.” His eyes are locked on mine intensely as he leans forward and, for an instant, I think he’s going to kiss me.

Instead, he slowly reaches behind me. I hear the rustling of wrappers as he grabs a candy mint out of the dish on my desk. His warm breath is on my neck and my breathing has stopped altogether. I’m nearly pressed against him, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s doing this on purpose, and my body doesn’t object.

He steps back and smiles knowingly. “I promise it’ll be fun.” He unwraps the candy and pops it in his mouth. My gaze is drawn to his lips and tongue.

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