Page 13 of The Southern Submission

He laughs. “Fuck, I like you. I’m going to keep you around. Can you say more mean things to me?”

My mouth pops open in shock, not at all expecting that response. Is he serious? Is that why he’s been so persistent today? Should I have fawned over him instead, and he wouldn’t have paid me a second thought?

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, not sure how to take his comments. He’s not normal. There’s no way to anticipate his next move or comment, and that freaks me the hell out.

“You’re doing a decent job of creating a list of what’s wrong with me. I’m weird for smiling so much. I'm annoying. I don’t have a life. I have a stupid face. I’m sure given time, the list will grow.”

I feel a twinge of remorse for being such a bitch to him. “The list would grow slower if you left me alone like I asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that? And why? You’ve engaged with me every time I’ve talked to you. You secretly like it, even if you want to hate it or hate me, for whatever reason. You would’ve shut me down and not answered if you didn’t want to talk to me.”

I blink incredulously at his last words and my cheeks heat with outrage. “You told me if I didn’t answer your calls or texts, you'd show up at my house or work.” I fume, realizing I had a choice.

Icouldhave ignored him, but then I wouldn’t have had the chance to get to know more about Olympus and his family. Not that he’s been very forthcoming on any details. He’s been more intent on askingmequestions and digging into my history than allowing me any opportunity to get to know what makes him tick or how Olympus runs internally. Goddammit, I’ve let him distract me so thoroughly, that I’m not even doing myjob right!

“Only when I plan on calling in my fake girlfriend favor,” he explains patiently, bringing me back to our conversation.

“How am I supposed to know when that’ll be?” Exasperation has my brows climbing higher.

“I’ll tell you. But we’ll need to know each other really well before we appear publicly as a couple to pull this off convincingly. So consider this me starting our friendship. Be my friend, Ainsley.”

“Are you so hard up for friends that you have to resort to asking women who don’t even like you to be your friends?” I sputter.

“Ah, but I think youdolike me. You’re just telling yourself you don’t. Why else would you have stayed on the phone with me for this long? You enjoy sparring with me intellectually. I stimulate you. It’s giving you the release you need because you’re wound so tight. You like all the verbal back and forth and the mental gymnastics of saying I’m annoying and you hate how smiley I am while you bend over backward to make me smile more. It’s cute.”

“You’re impossible,” I spit as I look for a way to refute everything he’s said. Am I enjoying this? I mean, maybe, a little bit. But it’s not stimulating me or giving me a release. Goddamn, that sounds way too sexual. “This isn’t going to work. I can't pretend to date you when I don't even like you.”

“Of course you can. That makes it even better. There’s no risk of actually falling for me when you don't like me. It’s perfect. I just need you to show up in public with me and look like we get along so Harlowe will buy it. You did great this morning. Give me six months of that so she thinks it’s serious enough that she’ll let her guard down.”

“Six months? Hell no, that’s way too long. I just met you today. There’s no way I’m tying myself to you for that long.You could be a sociopath.” I rub my forehead as I wonder how I got here. I’m arguing with a billionaire about the length of time I’m going to fake date him. This can’t be my life.

“I’m not a sociopath. I was tested when I was younger. It turns out I’m just a genius. And you agree, but for less time? Three months. Ninety-day fiancée style.”

“What the actual fuck? No. This is insane. No fiancée talk.” I shake my head and look back at the screen where Payton appears far too calm and collected. “You were tested to see if you were a sociopath?Were you a weird kid? There are levels here that I need to know about. Did you have trouble connecting, or did you kill small animals? I have so many questions.”

He smirks and levels those gorgeous blue eyes at me. “I was too literal and had trouble connecting. I was smarter than my peers and I electrocuted Zander once when we were kids. My mom wanted to make sure I didn’t do it on purpose and made it look accidental. To be fair, kids can’t be sociopaths, which would actually be a diagnosis of Antisocial Personality Disorder, but they can have Conduct Disorder. You have to meet certain criteria. They asked me a lot of questions and we looked at pictures of facial expressions, checked to see if I understood empathy, and stuff like that. I didn’t have that either. Besides, I really like animals. I would never kill them. My favorite animals are dolphins and sea turtles. What are yours?”

“Octopuses and seahorses,” I mutter, holding my head. This fucking man.

“We both chose marine animals. I love that for us. So ninety days work?”

My head warps at his persistent back and forth. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I whisper, pinching my temples between my fingers.

“I’m glad you agree. I’ll work out the details of our fakerelationship and get them drawn up in a contract. This is our little secret. No one else can know it’s fake, so we have to sell it well. Now I’ll say good night to my amazing fake girlfriend. Sleep tight and talk to you tomorrow, Muffin.”

He ends the call before I can get another word in. I’m left holding my phone, my mouth gaping in shock. He’s really the genius mastermind I thought, manipulating every situation to his advantage and leaving others three steps behind. My overwhelmed mind spins for hours after, wondering how life could have turned upside down so thoroughly in a matter of hours from one chance encounter with the billionaire I’m now somehow tied to, as afake girlfriend for ninety days.

Eight

Payton

Ainsley dominates my thoughts as I swim laps in the pool on the roof of my loft. It doesn’t matter how fast I go or how long between breaths that push my lungs to burning. I can't escape her. Images of her and how I’ll use this connection to my advantage chase each stroke that pulls me through the crystal clear water.

My eidetic memory is a blessing and a curse—the vivid recall it provides meaning I have memorized every part of her. Every nuanced motion, carefully guarded look, and grimace she’s given me is seared into my brain. I know the way her nostrils flare when she’s angry, the way her arched brows pull together when she thinks I’m full of shit, the way the corners of her full lips twitch when I almost get her to smile.

It’s the lips that chase me most of all as I think of what they would look like wrapped around my cock, reminding me that I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, especially now that she’s my fake girlfriend for the foreseeable future. I shouldn’t complicate my life like that.

Ainsley may say she wants nothing to do with me, but I know she’s more than a little curious and very interested in a connection despite her prickly exterior. She willingly went along with my charade to fool Harlowe. She played her part admirably, creating a backstory that was more truth than I could’ve imagined if she was also at the real estate summit like she said. She even melted against me each time I pulled her close and seemed to enjoy at least part of our interaction even if she said otherwise.

---