by Virna DePaul
My heart hurts at his words. I know he doesn’t want a real relationship—I know that. But my heart still sinks. Another part of me welcomes his honesty. His words aren’t condescending or cutting, and I find myself slowly pushing the fear away.
“I’ll need to think about it,” I reply softly. “I know that’s not helpful, but I’m the type of person who has to think things over. But I’ll give you my decision within the next few days.”
He smiles, and then holds out a hand. “Shake on it, then?”
I smile, too. “Of course.”
As we touch, though, sparks light between us. His fingers are warm and solid with calluses on his palm. My heart’s pounding again, not out of fear, but anticipation. I lick my lips, and he zeroes in on the gesture.
A second ago, he was talking about a business deal, but now…
He leans closer, so close that I can’t mistake his intention. He gives me a second to say no, to say I don’t want this, but I do want this. So I close the distance, and then Simon is kissing me.
He’s finally kissing me.
His lips are soft, but his kisses are anything but. Tangling his hand in my hair, he tips my head back further and ravishes my mouth. I gasp, but he catches the gasp as he holds me still for his onslaught. My entire body shakes.
I kiss him back. I pull myself into his lap, his hardness underneath my ass, and he groans low in his throat. It emboldens me. I stroke his cheeks, run my hands down his chest, and he retaliates by thrusting his tongue inside my mouth. My nipples pucker. I’m so hot that I take the coat off and place it behind me. Seeing that, he laughs a little in his throat.
I’m about to beg him to take me right then and there, when the limo comes to an abrupt halt.
Simon is the one to break the kiss. We stare at each other for a few moments, though, breathing hard. His pupils are dilated. I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon. His erection is an insistent pressure below me.
“We’re here,” the driver says as he taps on the partition.
“We’re here,” Simon repeats.
I don’t move, though. He eventually places me on the seat beside him and then opens the door. He holds out his hand and I get out. He hands me his phone, and I have no idea why until he says, “Put your number in.”
“Okay,” I finally breathe. My fingers are shaking so much, it takes two tries before I get the right number in.
He takes a card from his wallet and hands it to me, then he brushes a hand down my cheek. “Good night, Marissa Woodcrest.”
Before I blink, he’s back in the limo, being whisked off into the night, and I’m standing alone outside my cottage, the night breeze blowing my hair out of place.
All I can think to myself is, what the hell happened? And whatever it was, can it happen again?
7
Simon
After a heavy day of doing my own stunts during some serious action scenes on the set of Alien Love, all I want to do put my feet up and relax. Or maybe I only want to think about Marissa. The same woman I petted to orgasm, kissed, and asked to be my pseudo-girlfriend, yet haven’t heard from in two days.
Instead, I’m in a meeting with Declan, who is currently pacing his corner office.
The man never sleeps. In the past few years, he’s helped make Kiss Talent Agency, which has offices in both Los Angeles and New York, huge. Declan and his brothers split their time between coasts.
Hunter Kiss already had several big-name athletes as clients when he joined forces with his brothers Declan and Owen to start the agency. It hadn’t taken Owen long to build his list of models, photographers, and other clients. Declan, on the other hand, hadn’t been as successful—at first. I signed with him soon after moving to the States, and when I scored the lead role in Alien Love, I became his big fish. His only fish. We used to go out together on the town, and it felt like him and me against the world. Now he works with big name actors who are usually up for Oscar consideration, or crazy popular musicians. Most recently, he scored a total unknown a role as the female Indiana Jones in a big budget film. He works hard for all his clients, and he’s working hard to get me the role in Perfect Union. That help includes telling Noble and Spires I have a steady girlfriend in order to get me out of the mess I’ve made of my reputation. Right now, he’s ticking off names of women he knows, actresses who have yet to be discovered but who might be willing to play the part of my girlfriend.
I rub my temples. Why the hell did I tell that damn lie? Yes, I need that part so badly I can taste it. If I get it, doors will open to me that have been closed. My dreams will be within reach.
That should be my sole focus. Instead, I find myself ignoring Declan and thinking of the only woman I want to be my pretend girlfriend: Marissa.
God, I wish she’d accept how advantageous a mutual partnership could be. I know I’m not a prince among men, but we’d both benefit from it, in the end, and that’s all that matters.
You just want to get into her bed, my mind tells me. I bat the thought away. Yes, I’m attracted to her, even though she’s nothing like the girls I typically go for. Maybe because she’s nothing like the girls I typically go for.
Despite telling myself not to pressure her, I’d even texted her yesterday, asking her if she’d given my request more thought. But nothing. I keep checking my phone, hoping she’ll call or text me. I feel like some teenage boy, hoping his middle school girlfriend will send him an emoji or something.
“Maybe your girlfriend got called away on an extended business trip,” Declan says, taking a Slinky from his desk and messing with it. He never sits still, never dwells on one thing longer than a second or two, which is probably why he goes through girlfriends faster than I do. No one can keep up with him. Sometimes it’s kind of exhausting to watch. “That way we can buy us some time while we audition the perfect candidate.”
“We don’t have time for that. I already rescheduled the dinner for next week. I can’t do it again. Plus, I told you I already found the perfect woman.”
Declan stops playing with the Slinky, letting it collect in the palm of one hand. “The perfect woman who hasn’t agreed to help you, you mean?”
“She said she had to think about it.”
I hear the Slinky clinking again—back and forth—as Declan rises to his feet and begins to pace about the room again. His dark eyebrows tend to come together in one line when he’s thinking. I wait, knowing there’s no use talking to him when he’s in Thinking Mode.
Suddenly, his intercom crackles. “Mr. Kiss?”
“Yes, Rachel?” Declan says, messing with the damn Slinky, to the point that I get up and rip it from his hands. He tosses me a frown, but I lock the toy in his drawer for now. Sometimes I’m not sure Declan is actually a man in his thirties instead of a ten-year-old boy.
“Noble and Spires are here to see you.”
Declan and I both stare at each other like the end of the world has just been announced. He starts to toss food containers in the wastebasket and tidy up his desk. I try to think about ways I can look like a devoted family-man while sitting here in my warm-up suit and sneakers, and the only thing that comes to mind is taking off my baseball cap and zipping my track jacket up so it doesn’t bare too much of my chest hair. Declan clears his throat and presses the button on the intercom. “Show them in, Rachel.”
A moment later, they walk in.
Dammit. I fucking need Marissa more than I’ve ever needed any woman. I want to text her, beg her to come to my rescue. Instead, I smile and shake their hands. “Good to see you both. I’m looking forward to our dinner.”
“Assuming nothing comes up again,” Noble practically sniffs.
I mentally wince. “No, sir. I’ll definitely be there.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Declan asks. “Mr. Dale was just in to discuss the many scripts that have come in for him. Turns out he’s quite the hot property these days.”
Ah, good one, Kiss. An absolute, bald-faced lie, but still a good
one. Noble doesn’t buy it, from the way he harrumphs. Still, no one asks me to leave, so I take that as my cue to stay. Maybe I can find some other way to butter him up.
Rachel brings in coffee and water, and then closes the door so the four of us are alone.
Noble and Spires are men in their sixties with loads and loads of money. Spires is tall with a remarkably full head of hair, while Noble is shorter and hasn’t had hair since he was my age. While Noble tends to be an irascible curmudgeon, Spires makes up for it with his stupid—and borderline offensive—jokes and his booming laugh.
A phone rings, and Spires takes his ancient flip-phone from his pocket. “Oh, it’s the missus,” he says with a wink. Flipping the phone open, he says in a voice way louder than necessary, “Honey! Yes, I remember that you need a ride to Pilates today. Of course. I’ll be there on time. I promise. Last time I was late because a meeting went over. You know that.” He nods, smiles even more, and then finally tells his wife goodbye with a click of the phone closing. “Women,” he says with a good-natured shake of his head. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without ‘em, right?” He chuckles, although it sounds forced.
I don’t chuckle; I nod, waiting to see how this plays out.
“I bought Tilly this platinum bracelet from Tiffany’s—so expensive I almost had a stroke, you know—and you know what she told me? You know I only like yellow gold!” Spires laughs so loud I can feel the table shake. “How’s a guy supposed to remember something like that?”
“Isn’t it all the same?” Declan returns. “It’s all expensive.”
I haven’t said anything yet because I’m watching Noble, as he’s watching me. I might as well have axed his whole family; the man bloody hates me.
“Tilly mentioned she wants to join us for our dinner together next week, Dale. I hope that’s okay,” Spires says. “Turns out she’s a big fan of yours and Alien Love.”
“That would be lovely. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Noble pushes his glasses up his nose again. Then he steeples his hands and says in a rumbling voice, “How is everything with you, Mr. Dale?”
“Bloody perfect.” I give him a slight smile, refusing to show him how much of my life he holds in his hands. Besides, Noble knows how to play things cool until suddenly he has you trapped, and I’m savvy enough to avoid his claws.
“And your new girl?” Spires asks. “How is she? We’re looking forward to meeting her. Will she be joining us for dinner, as well?”
Here it is: the axe about to fall. I can feel its sharpness against my neck, about to draw blood. I have to be honest—or sort of honest. I have to tell them that Marissa and I broke up, that I won’t have a date at dinner, but that I’m still just as trustworthy anyway. I’m about to tell them exactly that when the door to the conference room opens, Rachel standing there with an odd look on her face.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Dale, your, um, girlfriend is here.”
I stare at Rachel, and so does Declan. Noble narrows his eyes at me, but Spires is the one to say, “Well, this is a surprise. Bring her in, Dale.”
I stand up and try to act like I’m not completely shocked by this development. But before I go to the open door, Marissa herself is standing there. Here, at my work, her dark hair in a neat bun, wearing neatly pressed trousers and some kind of blouse I want to rip apart to find the silky skin beneath. She looks pretty and sweet and rich, checking off every damn box.
“Darling.” I kiss her cheek before whispering in her ear, “What are you doing here?”
She pats me on the chest. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Your sister told me you were at your agent’s, so here I am. Can’t your girlfriend check in on you every once in a while?” She looks at the men at the table. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”
Despite my initial surprise, I get over it quickly as I introduce Marissa to Noble and Spires and then Declan. When she mentions her last name, the older men nod appreciatively, and finally, miraculously…they look impressed.
“I went to school with your father, young lady,” Noble says. “The illustrious Woodcrests. Dale, you’ve caught quite the lady here. The Woodcrests were always too good for us, you know.”
Marissa smiles, all sweetness and politeness. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
As I’m watching this, I start to worry. Marissa told me her father knew Noble and Spires, and of course I knew her family was well off, but I had no idea Noble had gone to school with Raul Woodcrest, or that Marissa’s family seems to be considered a kind of royalty in the city. I’m torn between being even more impressed by how down to earth Marissa has managed to remain and feeling a bit worried that if she ever finds out I’m just some kid from a trash family from the east side of London, she might not look at me with such interest.
I brush aside those worries. Right now, I’m focused on how Marissa is charming the pants off of not only Spires, but Noble, too. Things might actually be starting to look up for once since that white lie was thrown from my lips with the same reckless abandon of a cocky teen foregoing a condom.
“I won’t keep you gentlemen, but I wanted to make sure and stop by to talk to Simon.” She looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “Could we speak in private, please?”
I’m so surprised by all of this I can only nod. I murmur something to the effect of “pardon us” to the group before escorting her to a nearby conference room. I close the door behind us.
She bounces on the balls of her feet, and I must admit, it’s kind of adorable. “I’m sorry for stringing you along. I thought about it for the past few days and I came to the conclusion that you were right.”
I can’t help but smile. I take a measured step towards her, and ask, “Pardon? What was that again?”
“Are you—?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re seriously going to make me say it again?”
“Yes, and maybe a third time, if I get my way.”
“Men.” She huffs, bounces some more, and then says, “Fine, you were right. Happy? You were right that this will be good for the both of us. At least, I hope you will be, since we have no idea how this will turn out, exactly.”
I step closer until there’s less than a hand span of space between us. “It’ll turn out perfectly. You’ll be my girlfriend, I’ll be your boyfriend, and no one will be the wiser, except Declan, but he’s on our side.” I can’t help but reach out and touch a strand of her long dark hair that’s curled near her collarbone. “So, the Woodcrest family is royalty in these parts?”
She blushes. “Not really. I mean, my family is. My dad is, and my mom, I guess, judging from the way people fawn all over them like they’re special. I’m just…me.”
She gnaws on her lip, embarrassed, and my cock twitches in response. That innocent routine is going to be the death of me. “Come with me to dinner next Friday? It’s a dinner with those gentlemen and at least one of their wives. I can already tell they love you.” She seems so entranced by me touching her hair that she doesn’t respond. I smile, tugging on the strand slightly. “Marissa…?”
She jolts back into herself. “Oh, yeah. Yes, I’ll be there.” She scrunches up her face. “Do I have to wear heels?”
Considering she’s barely 5’5”, I’d guess, most women would opt for heels. But not Marissa. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. “You can wear pasties and a thong for all I care. As long as you come and act like you’re desperately in love with me.”
She laughs and it’s crazy adorable but also kind of sexy. “I think the pasties are more likely than the desperately in love bit, but still I don’t think that’s quite the right look for a wholesome girlfriend.”
“Is that so?” I move closer toward her, tracing a line across her collarbone. She’s so pale, yet her skin has a golden tinge that makes me want to taste her, lick her all over. I get hard thinking about seeing that skin bared to me. “Then I look forward to seeing what you’re wearing, love.”
She’s breathing fast, h
er breasts pressing up against her blouse. I can just make out the lace outline of her bra, and I have to stifle a groan. I can’t get distracted: there’s too much at stake and the same people who are basically holding a noose over my neck are in the room next to us. And they’re waiting for me.
I lean down and give Marissa a buss on the lips. Her eyes widen, and I can’t help but chuckle. “We are dating, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but no one’s around to see us,” she points out with pursed lips and an arch of her brow.
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t practice any chance we get. Let me show you out.” I guide her with my palm on her back as we head down the hallway toward the receptionist area. “Now, I need to get back in there with the boys, but I don’t want you to come with me.”
“No?” she questions softly.
“Right, because there are a lot of details we need to go over, and right now, we’ve got them right where we want them.”
After walking her to the elevator and planting a quick kiss on her cheek, I return to Declan’s office. Spires and Noble both glance up as I enter, while Declan looks relieved that I’ve decided to come back. I don’t know what else he possibly could have imagined I would have done, but that’s Declan for you.
“Will we be seeing Miss Woodcrest at dinner next week?” Noble asks before I can even sit down.
I nod, smiling. “Yes, indeed you will.”
The pit of nervousness in my stomach from before has been slightly tamed, but it’s still there. There’s plenty of room and plenty of time to screw this up. But with Marissa on my side, I’m much more prepared than I was ten minutes ago. And I can hardly wait to see what will happen next.
8
Marissa