Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Argh! So now you’re just straight-up resorting to blackmail.”
“No, I can help you. That’s all I’m saying. I have money, and I have a lot of friends all over the place—people who can deal with this, so you don’t have to.” I try for my most charming grin, but at the moment, I feel like a greasy slime ball. She’s right. Blackmail isn’t exactly my style. “Plus, you’d get to stick it to your ex. He’d find out who you’re dating. He made you feel like you’d never be good enough for anyone, and bam!”
Emily shakes her head. “That’s a terrible reason.”
“But it’s appealing.” I look pointedly at the ax in the kitchen until she has to turn around and look at it too. When she turns back around, she’s scarlet again.
“Fine,” she huffs. “But I want twenty grands, my backyard fixed, and the ability to tell my best friends and family that this isn’t real. They’ll all think I’m crazy, though, but maybe they’ll already think so anyway. The last few days haven’t been, uh, how my life normally goes. In case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” I stand and offer my hand. But she doesn’t stand, and she doesn’t shake it. Instead, she scowls at me like the plague just swept into her living room. “Alright, well, I have your number now, from the employee files. I’m getting a new phone today, so I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Why bother? We see each other at work.”
“Right. Just act…act normal. And don’t answer any questions about me. People will be curious, and they’ll ask you. Instead, just smile and shrug.”
“Smile and shrug. That’s your answer to this?” Emily hisses.
I smile. And I shrug. It’s obviously quite effective since it earns me a steely look of disgust and nothing more. There really isn’t anything to say to a smile and a shrug. Or maybe there isn’t anything to say to what I just proposed.
I let myself out. Twenty grand. Well, twenty grand is nothing. I wonder what Emily needs the money for. Or wants it for. She could have asked for far more, and I would have given it to her. She probably sensed that I was somewhat desperate after I mentioned my granny and how I was giving her a hard time. Things like that add up. She could have figured I was getting disowned or something and that I would do anything to keep my fortune. Although it’s not entirely true, disappointing my grandmother and having her think I broke my word to her is far worse.
Emily could have asked for more, but she didn’t.
Now that she’s going to be my fake girlfriend, maybe I’ll get to find out why.
CHAPTER 6
Emily
I am so, so pooched.
The next day, I smile, smile, smile, and shrug, shrug, shrug my way through the long hours of whispered words behind my back, curious glances, and forward questions.
When Asher slips into my office and shuts the door behind him, I frantically scramble away from my desk. There aren’t any windows in here, but I’m sure someone saw him enter. The scandal just keeps getting worse and worse. I want to fix it, but how can I? I’ve already sold my soul for somewhere around twenty grand, a backyard, and my job. Technically, I’ve sold it twice, so does that make me a double agent?
This is way too freaking complicated. Why did it have to be him that I grabbed and kissed?
Him. Asher Paris. I’m sure the entire workplace would secretly or not so secretly trade places with me in a second. Not just for the money, either. If Asher was a hobo, I think he could make a killing begging outside of anywhere. He’d just have to lean up against any building and flash his disgustingly charming smile. Or maybe show off a little muscle, which any t-shirt and even the button-down dress shirt he has on right now would easily do. He looks even taller and broader in a freaking light purple shirt—yes, purple—and black pants. He exudes power and radiates bad boy vibes, even dressed like a boss.
It doesn’t help that he has two freaking dimples on display, a face that would make even fairies and sirens weep, and dark hair that looks so rich and thick, it practically begs to be touched. Like a nice puppy or an extra soft kitty.
No. Asher is no puppy. And he’s certainly no kitty. He’s a blackmailing son of a beep who witnessed my ultimate humiliation twice now, snooped in my files to get my name and number, and is now my boss through the power of money and a generous granny. No puppy or kitty could do so much damage to my life.
Oh, and he’s also my boyfriend—a fake one, but still.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.”