Page 19 of The Fake Family Deal

I glance at Ellis, and he takes the lead. “Hello. My name is Ellis Whitlock. I’m the CEO of Ellis Inc., and proud inventor ofBeautiful Fitness, the app for people who want to feel good and feel beautiful. And this is my wife, Marina.

“Hello,” I say weakly, smiling as best I can. Which is not very well.

The teleprompter in front of me flashes up a question in all caps.When and how did you meet?

We’ve more or less created a script for this, but my palms are sweating from having to remember all the details of our fake meeting and romance.

I clear my throat. “It was three years ago,” I start. Simon makes a signal for me to raise my voice and I take a breath, willing myself not to mumble. “At an event for Beautiful Fitness. I was working as a PA for a different company back then. But Ellis and I got chatting, and we hit it off. He invited me out, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

I laugh at myself, far more heartily than I should at a statement that’s mildly humorous at best.

It’s dark behind the cameras, but I can still see Simon giving us a face of massive disapproval.

The day drags on like that, never starting to feel easier. By the time the crew call for the end of the day, I’m so tired that I want to lie on the floor and cry for half an hour. I thought having a newborn was tiring, but that wasnothingcompared to this.

At least with Lila it was just her and me, and I knew that the problem was either going to be hungry, toilet, or tired. With this it’s all of those things, and we’re both feeling it.

I bundle her up into her stroller, and Ellis walks us to the door mutely, his face unchanging as he wishes us goodbye. I keep ittogether as we head down in the elevator and across the parking lot to the car.

It’s only when I get behind the wheel that I finally let myself release the sob that’s been building in my chest all day.

Can this really be worth it?

CHAPTER 11

ELLIS

By the end of the third day, I am absolutely exhausted.

It’s harder and harder to keep up with the demands the production crew are making of us, and every day it seems like we find another way to get something wrong. Every time the director calls for us to cut, I have to clench my fist to stop myself from lashing out.

I’ve never been bad at anything in my life. But this seems to be defeating me.

And it doesn’t help that Marina and I aren’t getting any more comfortable around each other.

We keep trying to pass it off as discomfort with filming, but I think everyone’s starting to suspect that something else is wrong. Nobody is happy, and it’s reflected in the tension in the room. There’s a dark cloud of frustration lingering over everybody.

I’m almost regretting paying Marina. I dropped a million in her bank account the other day, but if this all goes to hell,she’sgoingto be the one who comes out of this best.She’sgoing to be the one who walks away with something positive.

At least a million is basically nothing to me. I’d be furious if it was actually going to hurt.

As it is, the humiliation hurts enough already.

Marina walks away after filming again, and I watch her go, staring blankly after her, closing the door slowly. Even her good looks aren’t making me feel better anymore.

I sit on the evening of that third night, too tired to move and too numb to feel hungry. All I do is stare at the TV, forcing myself to turn it on and flick to some pointless show. Fiction. I can’t bear anything real right now.

They’d better make us look damn good up there. If I’m made to look like a clown, somebody is going to pay.

I fall asleep on the sofa that night.

So, when everyone arrives the next day, my back aches and my mood isn’t any better. I greet Marina with as much of a smile as I can muster, which isn’t much, and avoid the crew altogether. I don’t trust myself not to be nasty to them, and unfortunately I still need them to be on side.

The morning goes about as well as every other. That is to say, it goes badly.

We break early for lunch, and for a second, Simon’s bulging forehead veins scream of a resignation letter, but then Priscilla comes up to me and Marina. “Ellis, I’ve got a plan,” she whispers to me, then beckons us both to follow.

Marina gives me a terrified look, but doesn’t question it as we get up and slip into one of the guest bedrooms.

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