It’s been three weeks since the start of this little plan, and every single day since she brought it up, I’ve been tempted to cancel. Every time I sit down at my desk to get some writing done or make a goal for my mysterious and bleak-looking future, I get caught up in this scheme we hatched like a couple of revenge-hungry high schoolers. Nearly every day, I’ve typed up a message to Sage to cancel. I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake. I don’t need to be pretending anything, let alone pretending to date a woman, just to piss off my dad.
And yet, here I am.
I park my Audi outside the Laundromat and pull out my phone to text Sage. I only get two words in when the front door opens and she strides out.
Holy fucking shit.
That dress—and I use that term loosely—looks ten times better than it did in her apartment three weeks ago. Her pink hair is in curly waves over one shoulder and her exposed skin is shimmering like she’s wearing some sort of thin layer of glitter.
Scrambling like an idiot, I jump out of the car and rush around the back to open her door, but she’s already climbing in by the time I get there.
“What are you doing?” She laughs. Her lips are dark, the shade of Merlot. And her eyes pop even more than they usually do with thick fan-like lashes and silver shimmery eyeshadow over her lids.
“I was being a gentleman,” I reply with my hands out.
She waves me away as she pulls the door closed. On my way back to the driver’s side, I have to adjust my thickening cock in my pants. This effect Sage has on me is just annoying at this point. I’m not doing any of this to get closer to her or to get laid. It’s not about her and me. It’s about causing as much grief and pain for my father and her ex as possible. So I really need to keep my head in the game.
If only I didn’t have the feel of her breasts etched in my mind, haunting me every day since.
As I climb into the car, she turns my way with a contemplative expression. Instantly, my car smells sweet and flowery, and it doesn’t help my dick situation.
“Damn, Peaches. You look nice.”
“You too, Church Boy. I like your suit.”
“Thanks,” I reply as I put the car into drive.
We’re not far from the gala, which is being held at a botanical garden just outside the downtown city area. We’re going to arrive about fifteen minutes late, which is exactly what we planned. I need to make an entrance, and I really want to see the look on Truett’s face when I walk in with Sage on my arm.
My mother’s reaction…I’m less excited about.
I wish I could clue her in on everything, but there’s no way to do that without her getting hurt. I just know that seeing me act out is going to disappoint her, and I literally lose sleep every night thinking about it. My mother didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to.
I knew I should have canceled this.
Sage is typing away on her phone when my eyes cascade over to her. Her leg is exposed all the way up to her hip, and I shift in my seat again at the mere thought of those pretty little thighs of hers wrapped around my waist. She’s so tiny I bet I could fuck her up against a wall, holding her in place with nothing but my cock.
I mean, obviously not, but I love the idea.
I can’t seem to help how lewd my thoughts get when I’m around her, and I’d be more proud of all the gross and filthy things I’d like to do to her if I wasn’t so worried about myself at the same time. This isn’t like me.
“Nervous?” she asks, and my eyes dash to her face.
“No,” I lie. The truth is, I’m nervous as hell. There’s a good chance we’ll walk in and my father will have us escorted right out. Then all of this would be for nothing. At that point, we’ll have to move right on to phase two of the plan, which I’m equally nervous about.
“So, we go in. Listen to some rich people speak about something. Eat our dinner. Dance. And leave.” Sage has run through this plan so many times I’m starting to wonder if she’s the one who’s nervous.
“What are you so worried about? You have the easy part tonight. Brett won’t be there.”
“The easy part?” she asks, leveling me with a tense stare. “I have to walk into a giant roomful of people dressed like this.”
I nearly slam on the brakes as a feeling of guilt washes over me. “This was your idea. You’re not comfortable with it?”
“I’m comfortable with it,” she argues. “I’m just…nervous.”
I swallow down my rising shame as I let out a deep breath. “Well, if it’s any consolation,” I say, glancing over at her, “you’ll be the most beautiful woman there, by far.”
Her gaze softens as her eyes linger on mine. “That’s very sweet of you.”
The closer we get to the event, the more my anxiety grows. This is so out of character for me I’m trying to disassociate from it entirely. I normally either come to these alone or with some nice churchgoing girl my mother sets up for me. So I just do my best to shed the good boy Adam persona for one night. With her at my side, it doesn’t feel so unnatural.
I pull the Audi into the valet line and Sage wrings her hands together in her lap. “Ready or not,” she says.
Ready or not.
A moment later, our doors open simultaneously and we each step out into the warm Texas night air. Standing, I readjust my tux, pulling my tie from my neck before putting my arm out for her. She loops hers through mine and squeezes herself close to my body as we make our way to the entrance.
I can already feel people staring. Out here, it’s mostly just guests and the valet attendants, but as we approach the door, I start recognizing the members of my father’s team. His manager, publicist, event coordinator, assistants. Each of them beams at me and then turns their eyes toward Sage. That’s when their smiles fade.
They’re staring. And not in a good way.
It’s an alarmed sort of staring, and I feel my blood starting to boil. They’re silently judging her with their eyes. So I squeeze her tighter against me.
We step into the building as I softly mumble, “Here we go.”
“Where’s the bar?” she replies, and I find myself smiling as we enter the ballroom.
In any large event, it’s always easy to spot my father because of the enthralled people that typically surround him. Tonight is no different. There’s a crowd at the front of the room, and I can already hear his booming voice from here. Haughty laughter and a smug arrogance permeate the room like noxious gas.
“A drink is a good idea.” I pull Sage toward the bar on the left. We get in line, standing in awkward silence until we reach the front and I order myself a whiskey on the rocks and her a vodka martini. Just as we get our drinks, I spot my brother, Caleb, with his wife, Briar, each holding drinks and looking miserable on the edge of the room.
I study their expressions as their eyes settle on Sage at my side. Caleb appears instantly surprised and intrigued, unable to keep the confusion off his face. With his brows pinched together, he glances at me as if he’s trying to place where he knows me from.
Briar only stares at Sage for a moment before quickly looking away, never one for confrontation.
As we approach them, Sage stays close to my side. I put out my hand to greet my brother. He shakes it with a look of amusement. “What are you up to?” he mutters quietly, but I ignore his question.
“Caleb, this is my…” I clear my throat as the words get caught. “My date…Sage.”
Fuck.
I botched that one. I should have called her my girlfriend, not date. We’re not trying to just make waves; we want to cause a tsunami. But it’s okay. It was only the first try. I’ll get better.
On my arm, I feel Sage squeeze me as if to say, Nice job, asshole.
Then she smiles politely at my brother and takes his hand as I continue the introductions.
“Sage, this is my brother Caleb, and his wife, Briar.”
My chest feels tight with anxiety as Sage puts her tattooed hand in theirs one at a time. I notice Caleb’s hesitation as if he can already sense that something is off. As if he knows it’s all a lie.
But I can’t tell him it’s a lie. Sage and I went over the rules in her apartment, and I’ve been replaying them in my head ever since.
Rule #1: No one can know the truth. Everyone needs to believe we’re a real couple.
That means brothers, friends, strangers, everyone. I don’t normally keep secrets from my brothers, but lying to Caleb and Lucas should be easy. It’s my mother I’m worried about.
If we want this to be effective, we have to sell it. To everyone.
Caleb’s scrutinizing gaze finds my face. “So…where did you two meet?”
Rule #2: Get the story straight.
“He bought me breakfast at the diner. Last week.” Sage is wearing a bright smile, and I have to admit—it’s convincing. Her arm slides across my back as she settles herself against my chest, her head nestled in the crook of my arm. She fits perfectly, and she’s not a bad actress. Or not a bad liar, depending on how you look at it.
They don’t need to know Sage and I shared our first breakfast over a month ago. It was my idea to go with a fake anniversary to avoid the date of our meeting lining up too precisely with the day my father fired me.
“Last week?” Briar asks, taking a sip of her champagne.
“Well, you move fast,” Caleb adds.
My gaze slides down to Sage’s face. “What can I say? It was instant chemistry.”
Her cheeks dimple as she scrunches up her nose, smiling up at me. So far, so good. We’re sort of killing it, if I do say so myself.
Rule #3: PDA is key. Be as public as possible.
Which means I should kiss her. We’re definitely in one of those moments when I should lean down and press my lips to hers, but I hesitate a moment too long, and Sage’s smile fades. She turns away, putting her vodka martini to her lips and taking a drink.
Clearing my throat, I glance back at my brother, who is still staring at me as if I’ve sprouted a dick on my forehead. With his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together tightly, he looks about two seconds away from calling bullshit. My temperature starts to rise.
Just then, his eyes track over my shoulder, and his demeanor changes. I can tell by the way his mouth slackens and his shoulders tense that our father is somewhere behind me. He turns his eyes away and takes a large drink from his glass.
And when I turn around, I watch Truett Goode cross the room toward me.
This is the point of no return. First, he sees me, and he looks furious.
Then he sees her, and he looks terrified.
