Page 27 of The Fake Affair

“Edinburgh? Bella, you’ve never been to Edinburgh.”

I let out a slow breath, hanging my jacket in the tiny coat closet by the door. My hand lingers on the sleeve a moment too long, as if my trench coat can somehow anchor me to reality.

“The board doesn’t know that,” I say. “Look, it’s complicated.”

“It’s insane, is what it is,” she fires back. “One minute, you’re trying to destroy his schedule. The next, you’re moving in with him?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes for a second as I lean back against the closet door. Her voice is too loud in the quiet of the apartment, and everything in my chest feels too tight. She’s not wrong. I can barely keep track of what’s real anymore—what’s part of the lie and what’s creeping dangerously close to the truth. One minute I’m moaning against his mouth in a coatroom, and the next I’m negotiating performance clauses in a fake relationship contract.

And now I have to convince the only person who’s known me longer than my own hair routine that this is all somehow... strategic.

“Victoria caught us in a... compromising position.”

There’s a long pause on the line. Then Audrey’s voice, horrified: “Please tell me you didn’t have sex in my brother’s office.”

“It was the coatroom, actually.”

“Bella!” She sounds absolutely and rightfully scandalized.

I wince, scrubbing a hand down my face as I sink onto the edge of his plush couch. “We got carried away after the charity gala and?—”

“You knew what you were up to, wearing that red dress!” She groans, and although I can’t see her, I canhearthe grief in her voice. She’s panicking because she loves me and because she’s sure this will go up in flames. Can’t blame her.

I smile despite myself, the image of Logan pausing mid-sentence, whiskey glass frozen in his hand, flashing through my mind like a slow-motion reel. The way his eyes had gone dark the second he saw me. “Maybe.”

“Christ.” Audrey exhales hard, like she’s bracing herself against the secondhand embarrassment. “So now what? You’re just going to pretend to be in love with my brother?”

The question catches me off guard. “It’s a business arrangement. We both get something out of it.”

“Besides orgasms?”

My mouth opens, then closes again. I tip my head back against the couch and stare at the ceiling like it might have a script I can borrow from.

“God, Audrey.”

“What?” she fires back, sounding like a very annoyed golden retriever.

“There’s a no-sex clause in the contract.”

Silence. Then Audrey snorts so hard I pull the phone away from my ear. “Oh, this is going to end well.”

“It’s just temporary,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. I sit up straighter, as if posture could make my lie sound more convincing. “We have a plan. Boundaries. Rules.”

“Right. Temporary.” Her voice is still amused, but there’s something else beneath it now. A shift. Softer. Warier. I hear her take a breath.

“Just... be careful, okay? Logan may be different with you, but he’s still Logan.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I say quietly.

But even I can hear the doubt in it.

“I hope you do. I gotta go, so we’ll talk later.” There’s a soft click, and the line goes dead.

I drop my phone on the couch and wander the penthouse, trying to feel less like an intruder. The place is ridiculously huge. Besides all the designer furnishings, there are touches of the real Logan, too: a worn paperback by his chair and a family photo of him and Audrey as kids.

But it's my room that stops me in my tracks. I expected a generic guest room. Instead, I find myself stepping into what looks like pages from my Pinterest board come to life.

The walls are painted the exact shade of sage green from my bathroom at home—a color I've been obsessing over on my design apps for months.

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