Page 2 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

I open my mouth to argue but stop short. Chelsea. We’d been planning this weekend for weeks—brunch, a long-overdue movie night, and an actual day off where I didn’t have to think about Nathan Clarke’s impossible schedule.

“Have you lost your mind?” I snap.

Nathan tilts his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. Chelsea is going to kill me. She’d already sent me six texts reminding me not to bail.

He’s still watching… like he’s waiting for me to continue.

“I had plans,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

His brows lift, like the concept of me having a life outside of his calendar is shocking. “Move them.”

I glare. “Wow, the arrogance. You really think my entire world revolves around you, don’t you?”

That smirk of his? Infuriating. “It usually does.”

Chelsea is never going to let me live this down.I throw up my hands, scoffing. “Oh, of course. I’ll just tell my best friend—who I barely see because of this job—that she’s second place to your latest business move. She’ll love that.”

He sighs, running a hand through perfectly styled hair. “Look, I know it’s unconventional?—”

“Unconventional?” I cut him off. “It’sinsane. What makes you think I’d agree to something like this?”

“Because I pay you well,” he says simply. Then, after a pause: “And because you’re the only person I trust to pull this off.”

He’s arrogant, yes—but he’s being sincere. He’s never dragged me into anything this ridiculous before. Then again, Nathan Clarke doesn’t do anything without a reason. If he’s asking this of me, it means he’s desperate.

Desperation looks good on him.

I shake the thought away and straighten my spine. “This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Clarke. Even for you.”

“I’m aware,” he says, “but this deal could make or break us. I can’t risk bringing someone else. I need someone who knows me—and knows how to think on their feet.”

The idea of spending an entire weekend pretending to be his girlfriend is absurd. He’s my boss, for God’s sake. My demanding, insufferable,maddeningly attractiveboss.

“Do I at least get a bonus?” I ask dryly.

His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile. “I’ll double your salary for the weekend. And you can call the shots when it comes to boundaries. I’ll keep things professional in public—hand-holding, maybe a kiss on the cheek. Anything more is your call.” He reaches towards me, expecting a handshake.

Tempting. Too tempting.

I study his face for any sign of hesitation. There’s none. My boss may be a control freak, but he’s not a liar. If he says he needs me, he means it.

After pretending to consider a few moments longer, I respond. “Fine,” I sigh, “but if you cross a single line, this arrangement is over. Understood?”

“Understood.”

I shake his extended hand, the heat of his palm meeting mine. His grip is firm, but not crushing, and his hands are as smooth as they look. His thumb brushes over the back of my hand briefly, the faintest hint of hesitation that makes my stomach flip.

I sigh again, accepting my fate. “I’ll pack a bag.”

I turn to leave, already second guessing my decision. It’s hard enough resisting him in the office with all the built-in barriers of professionalism.

But a weekend away?

Pretending to be in love?

On a boat, where there’s nowhere to escape him?

The thought unsettles me… and yet, a small, traitorous part of me wonders if he’s imagining it too.

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