Page 30 of Snared

I scoffed. “I’m a musician, not an actress.”

“It’s only in public. The band would know the truth. I mean, we should keep it to the band only because the smaller the circle, the less likely the truth will get out.”

“My entire life is public, and I don’t want to act like I love you. Let’s be honest, I barely like you, Josh. We’ve never really gotten along.”

“Well, do you have a better idea?” he asked, holding up his phone. “The alerts aren’t slowing down. The comments from the media and fans aren’t great. I’m looking out for you. For the band.”

“No. You’re looking out for the bottom line.”

“If that was the case, I’d divorce you right now. Think of all the press we’d get. And let’s face it, the rest of the band wouldn’t be the ones attacked and I’m not in the public spotlight, so it’s not me they’d go after.” He arched a brow. “Is that what you want?”

I hated that he called out my exact fear. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

But I knew he was right. On some fucked-up level, staying married made sense. It was ridiculous, and I’d officially lost my mind if I agreed to this charade.

Dammit. I needed caffeine.

He shrugged. “Yes. I am. But do you have any other ideas?”

“This is insane,” I muttered.

“Agreed,” he said, a sardonic smile on his face.

“There’s no way people are going to believe we’re in love,” I argued, ignoring the churning in my stomach. It had to be nausea. I couldn’t do this.

“Charlie, it’d only be for a few months. A hand hold here and there. A few kisses for show,” he said.

Kisses.

Fuck.

Lately, I’d spent more time thinking about kissing him than I ever wanted to admit. I mean, he was hot. I wasn’t blind. And his stupid forearms made my belly flutter. And there was something about his cockiness that made me wonder what he would be like in bed.

Double fuck.

“I’m not making out with you,” I gritted out.

“Whoa. I never said make out. A kiss or two, a shared look of longing.”

I snorted at that, but he talked over me.

“That’s it. Enough to be believable.”

“This has disaster written all over it.” I willed myself not to throw the room’s coffeemaker at him. Or a glass. Or anything.

“Charlie, this will work. It has to. I can’t lose you guys.” The last part was almost a whisper, like he actually had a heart, and at the moment, it was hurting.

Nope. I knew better. He just cared about his paycheck.

“I need to think on it,” I said.

“You know it’s the easiest solution for this insanity we’re in right now. Quiet the rumors. Let the scandal fade. We’ll be boring and then no one will care. Believe me, it’s the best for everyone involved,” he said.

My phone pinged again, and I glanced down. My sister was calling. I groaned. The day was getting better and better.

“I have to get this. My sister won’t let up,” I said.

“You can’t tell her the truth though. The fewer people who know, the better.”

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