Page 47 of The Fake Family Deal

The worst part of all this is his face. I can cope with the rejection, but what I can’t stand is how cold he’s being.

He sits and stares dumbfounded at me, like he can’t fully believe what he’s hearing. I want to say something witty or cutting but I can’t think of anything. I’m too angry and my mind is too blank. This isn’t a show. I don’t have a script.

All I have is my life, and whatever tatters I have left of my heart.

I glare at him one last time then turn on my heel and storm out, letting him sit there and stew as he watches me leave. I don’t even glance back.

CHAPTER 23

ELLIS

“Thank you,” I mutter to the girl in the café as she hands me my coffee. “Keep the change.”

She gawps at me because I gave her a hundred-dollar bill, but then wisely decides to pocket it without saying anything.

I’m just glad none of the staff in here have said anything to me since the incident the other day. They all saw it. They all saw Marina leave me.

But the coffee in here is good, so, as long as they seem not to care, I’m going to keep coming in. Life has to go on.

I step out of the café, glance around me to make sure the coast is clear, then start hurrying to the office. I very nearly make it all the way to the door when my plans for a quiet morning get foiled.

A young woman, part of a group, waves her arms and calls out to me, “Oh, my God, Ellis! Hi! We love the show!”

Clearly, she’s been dared to do it because her friends all fall away into giggles around her. I glance at them and don’t smile. “We love you!” she yells.

I can’t stop them from shouting, but I don’t give them any further acknowledgement. I’m not in the mood to be drawn into a conversation right now. I’m not really in the mood for anything right now, but I have to go to work and that’s fractionally better than moping around at home.

Sort of.

Leaving the girls outside, I step into the building.

“Morning, Mr. Whitlock,” beams the receptionist.

She’s not the useless one, so I give her a little greeting nod as I head over to the elevator. To my relief, no one else bustles over to get in. Good. I don’t want to speak to anyone today.

I stand alone in silence as the elevator lifts me up through the building, until it hits the top floor with a ding. The doors swoosh open, and I glance around again, not wanting to be stopped by people who want things from me. I have nothing to give today.

As soon as I’m sure it’s safe, I dash across to my office, slamming the door shut behind me.

I swing into my chair, log into the computer, put my coffee down in the spot I always put it in, and stare at the clock. Just after nine a.m.

I open up my emails next to find two hundred and four unread, thirty-six of which are spam. But before I can even start reading them, I get a pop-up notification from the virtual-meeting software. I open that to find minutes and points of action,three new items that want my attention, five new requests for meetings, one urgent need for my signature.

I sign the document without reading it.

Just a few months ago, being this busy would have been exhilarating to me. It’s everything I’ve been working for.

Hell, even a couple of days ago it was thrilling.

I know exactly what success tastes like. Beautiful Fitness was a hit from day one. Even between the scandals and the outrage and the multiple public apologies I’ve had to make about it, it’s always been a success.

That success has always given me a thrill. That was what I was chasing with Beautiful Baby. I thought I needed that success in order to feel alive.

And until just a few days ago, I thought Beautiful Babywas about to make me feel alive too.

But as I sit here staring at my full inbox, I feel absolutely nothing. Nothing except a hollowness inside my chest that reminds me of all the things that I could have had.

All the things Ididhave. And even if it did start as a lie, for those three weeks, Marina really was family to me.

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