Page 7 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

Her eyes narrow and her hands come to her hips.

I grab my suitcase as George pulls himself up onto the tire on the other side. “Are you sure?”

I glare at him.

The last thing I need right now is a man questioning what I do and do not want.

I’m here for a reason.

And it’s not because I’m taking a break from my job.

I quit

I’m jobless.

So, of course, I sold off all the stuff I didn’t want to keep, put the rest into storage, and gave up my apartment.

If it weren’t for Grandma and knowing I could always come here, I’d be homeless, too.

Well, maybe not. I could find another apartment for cheaper than the rent I was paying.

One month ago, almost to the day, Crimson invited me to one of his shows.

As a social media manager, I’d gone before. It was always a good thing for me to be part of the action.

It was fun.

Until it wasn’t.

I went to his dressing room after the show to tell him how much I enjoyed it.

And who was there, sitting in his lap?

Why… it was my mother.

Fifty-year-old June Hart, whose thirty-three-year-old daughter was the same age as the pop star she was making out with.

As though my mother hadn’t made my life difficult enough.

It was another slap in the face.

When I tried to bring up how uncomfortable it made me, June brushed me off like she always does.

So I quit.

June acted as though I was overreacting. Being too emotional.

I don’t care what she thinks of me.

But now it means I have no job and I’m jaded. Do I want to go back to the social media frenzy? Do I want to step back into the world of constant attention and scrutiny?

Well. Hopefully, once the rumors die down and people forget about me, I’ll be able to find a new job.

One where I’m working with a client who treats me professionally. And perhaps I won’t even have this scandal hanging over my head.

“I told you, I don’t like people messing with my stuff,” I tell him in a hiss.

George’s eyes widen. “Is everything okay?” he asks under his breath. “You don’t seem to be yourself.”

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