Page 53 of The Holiday Fakers
“No way. Absolutely not.I’mthe creeper here, not you.”
“Don’t call yourself that,” he says, his tone sharpening. “You’re not. And there’s a massive difference in strength between a man and a woman. I had no trouble stopping you.”
Stopping you.
“I’ll see you downstairs in a bit,” I mutter, then run away before he can reply.
My cold showerlasts less than ten seconds before I relent and turn the heat up. But even though my body can’t stand the punishment I want to inflict on it, my mind makes me suffer enough.
Eventually, I tell my brain to shut up. Yes, I’m embarrassed as hell, and yes, I’m annoyed that my subconscious is hot for Brody, but it’s not going anywhere. He’s not interested in me, and I have no desire—wrong word—wishto be with anyone who doesn’t want what I want: stability, structure, a family.
My hormones just need to get with the program and remember what we signed up for—a fake relationship that suitsbothour needs.
Only now my other needs are screaming to be met.
I wish I’d packed my rechargeable toyfriend. However, there’s no way I could have used him with Brody in the same room.
This is going to be a very long few days without an orgasm …
Switching the shower off, I get dressed and carefully apply makeup. If we’re photographed today, then I need to be looking my best. Brody hasn’t mentioned anything about Marv, so I’m hoping he’s still in New York and we’ve got a few days to ourselves to just hang out and chill with my family.
But as I reach the top of the stairs, my hand pauses on the rail. There’s a male voice downstairs that most definitely doesn’t belong to my dad.
“So, I said to him, ‘Ryan, you may be one of the biggest stars on the planet, but you don’t have the magic of Brody King. He’s gonna eclipse you like a freaking supernova!”
My heart sinks.
“Oh my gosh,” Mom replies. “Do you really know?—”
“Piper!” Marv cries as I enter the kitchen. “The golden girl!”
“There she is!” Mom exclaims. “How did you sleep, honey?”
“Hopefully nottoowell,” Mia says with a wink.
She’s sitting at the breakfast bar next to Marv, with a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a plate of cinnamon cookies in front of them. On the other side of Marv, a young woman scrambles off her seat and stands, staring at me like I’m the firing squad. She’s smaller than me, with wavy blonde hair a little shorter than mine, and looks like she’s straight out of college.
“This is Cara,” Mom says to me. “Marv’s assistant.”
I force a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” she replies immediately. “I—” She glances nervously at Mom and Mia, as if not sure whether they know Brody and me are faking it.
“So,” I say brightly. “Where are you staying?”
“The Hideaway Hotel,” Marv replies. “It’s cute, but the coffee’s not as good as Mrs Locke’s.”
Mom preens. “You must call me Erica, Mr DeVille.”
Marv throws his arms wide. “And you must call me Marv. I’m only Mr DeVille to lawyers and my enemies. Which, y’know, are one and the same in showbusiness.”
Mom giggles like a teenager, and I look around for Dad.
“I’m so sorry we missed your husband, Erica,” Marv continues.
“Oh yes, you missed him by less than a minute.”
Cara blushes, which tells me they were waiting until Dad had gone before knocking on the door.
