Page 2 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fake Girlfriend

"Really, Denver, an international scandal?" Victoria Song began, her voice dripping with disdain. The silk Hermès scarf around her neck was knotted as tightly as her expression. "XMGH's Foundation is meant to support the arts, not become tabloid fodder. The European market is crucial for our expansion plans into the Americas and Asia. We've discussed this before. Your lifestyle is becoming a liability."

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze steady. There could be no sign of fear or backing down in front of these old wolves. I had to maintain my composure. "It was a calculated move by a bitter ex. Nothing more. My lifestyle is my personal business, Victoria. It does not concern the board."

"Not when it affects business," snapped Maxwell Callaghan. "Your bitter exes are becoming quite the collection. These scandals are hurting our reputation. And the timing, right before announcing our new product line for the Asian markets? We need stability. You know how important discretion and propriety are to them. If you can't control yourself, how can we trust you to lead the company?"

My jaw tightened. "Profits have gone up quarter over quarter under my leadership."

"And yet," Victoria interrupted, "your personal life remains a constant source of embarrassment. XMGH Brands is a luxury women's fashion company. Your antics are damaging our standing with our target market." Victoria leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. "The board has reached a decision. Either you demonstrate some genuine stability in your personal life, or we'll be forced to reconsider your position. And this time, we mean it."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. They were trying to force me out after all of my hard work. I fought back a snarl. "And what, exactly, are you suggesting?"

Victoria smiled, flashing her teeth like fangs. "A mate. Someone respectable who can repair your image and show that you are a dependable leader."

I scoffed. They were wrong if they thought I would be easier to control with a woman by my side. "You want me to get married?"

"We want you to prove you're responsible," she said simply. "Six months, Denver. The board will reconvene to evaluate your continued suitability as CEO of the company."

I found myself wandering the hallways of the office that evening. What the fuck was I going to do? By now, my reputation ensured that the only type of woman who would even think of dating me was either someone wanting to climb the social ladder or someone who would sell my secrets out to the tabloids for exposure.

Most of the staff had already gone home, but there was a bright light coming from the area of the design studios. This area of the office wasn't someplace I bothered to visit. My skills were in the boardroom and negotiations. Like any competent CEO, I left the day-to-day operations of the business to my employees. Tonight, however, something drew me toward the light like a moth to a flame.

The studio was a chaotic mess of fabrics draped on mannequins, samples of shimmering beads and sequins, and sketches pinned onto boards. I spotted her at a cluttered desk, bent over a large sketchpad. She wore a white button-up shirt which was stylishly tucked into the waist of her loose-fit jeans. Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned on top of her head in a messy bun. Several long strands fell out of her bun and framed her face.

The rhythmic scratching sounds of her pencil across the page came to a stop as she sensed my presence. She looked up and turning toward the door, narrowed her eyes at me.

"Does the C-suite understand the concept of knocking, or do you always barge into people's workspaces unannounced?" she asked, her tone sharp.

I smirked. "Only when I'm desperate."

Moving closer to her, I took in the sketches scattered across her workspace. There was a large leather tote sac tucked under her desk and a half-empty cup of coffee on top of some papers. I sniffed. She used real cream, not that fake creamer made of chemicals, and there was some sweetness from a teaspoon or two of sugar. These clues painted a picture of her, practical and authentic. She was perfect for what I needed. "Sasha Bennett, right?"

Her sharp hazel eyes tracked my movements. "And what has the great Mr. Roberts so desperate to seek me out after office hours?" She leaned her hip against her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. In her hand, she held her pencil like a dagger.

I studied her for a moment, noting how she seemed comfortably at home in this chaotic workshop. My gaze locked with hers. "Just Denver. Mr. Roberts is my father. I need a girlfriend."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"A fake one," I clarified. "Just for six months. Long enough to get the board off of my back."

The studio's cluttered walls seemed to close in around us as she considered my words.

She laughed, a sound that was equal parts disbelief and amusement. "This is some kind of prank. I'm on hidden camera, right? You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

"Is this about what happened in Europe with that influencer?" Her voice was tinged with curiosity. "I thought that was all B.S., but you were really involved with her? Wow."

A part of me wanted to crawl out of my skin at the judgment in her voice. Savannah was a lust-fueled mistake I was going to regret for a long time. I moved to examine the sketches pinned to the wall. "The board wants me to prove I'm stable. They're concerned about my reputation impacting our expansion into the Asian markets." I turned back to her. "I need someone smart. Sophisticated. Someone who can handle both the boardrooms and European galas."

"And you thought of me?" She raised an eyebrow. "The workaholic assistant designer who's never even been to a social event?"

"Exactly," I said, stepping closer. "You're a clean slate. You have a chance to develop a name in the industry. You fit in with the business and I can teach you to fit in with my world. And you're the last person anyone would expect me to date, which makes it believable."

"And what's in it for me?"

"Name your price."

Her expression turned serious and she studied me for a moment. "I want my own line. Full creative control. No interference."

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