“What was the restaurant like? Was it pretty?” Ellie asked.
“Oh my gosh, Ellie. It was beautiful. Like something from a movie. White table cloths, couples dining by candlelight, waiters in tuxedos. Everything about it was so…glamorous.” My voice sounded breathy. “And the other diners—men in ties, the women in elegant gowns.”
“And you wore…that?” She swept her eyes over my outfit, which consisted of a knit dress, tights, and my favorite pair of Converse.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, I didn’t think I was staying. Will was supposed to be taking me to a jazz club.”
She shook her head. “Right. But, well—why did you stay?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had stayed, but I had. So, I gave her the best answer I could come up with. “Brandon invited me to. I think he felt bad for being so rude.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay. Interesting. But it wasn’t a date?”
I shook my head, grateful that Mama and Amy’s attention was focused on the TV. Amy was always too curious for her own good. And Mama would be ready to marry me off to him after one non-date. “So. Not. A. Date.”
“You’re very adamant about that,” she teased.
“Trust me. I don’t think he liked me very much, and I certainly didn’t care much for him.” Of this I was certain.
“Mm-hmm.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I didn’t,” I said, resisting the urge to stomp my feet. “He was rude and arrogant. And…and he’s old.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s twenty-nine.”
I wanted to tease her for cyber-stalking him, but that wasn’t important. At least not at the moment. What was important was proving to Ellie—and myself—that I was absolutely, positively, not interested in Brandon James.
“Exactly.” I pointed at her. “That’s almost an entire decade older than me. He was a teenager when I was being potty trained. He was getting his driver’s license when I was starting first grade. He—”
“Alright—” She held up her hands. “I think I got the point, Stace. He’s old. He’s rude. You’re not interested.”
“Soo not interested,” I said, hoping she’d finally drop the matter.
Brandon and I were worlds apart, and not just because of our respective ages. He was famous, wealthy. Wealthy didn’t even begin to cover it.
I was neither. And our age gap didn’t bother me so much; it was more the cultured air he gave off. He’d experienced a lifetime of things, and we had nothing in common. He loved sports, and I loved music. He was jaded, evasive, and even stand-offish, and I was… not.
He was nothing like the type of man I pictured myself spending my life with. He was nothing like Will.
“Besides, I’m dating Will,” I added. “Or I want to date him,” I said in a softer voice.
“Right.” She attempted to hold a serious expression, but I could see the corner of her mouth twitching.
“Right.” I glared at Ellie, needing to have the last word.
As I lay in bed that night, I thought about Brandon and his talk of fate. The day I’d met Will, fate had clearly played a hand. Not only had he rescued me from death by falling object, he was a musician. And a good one too.
More than anything, I wanted to be with someone who loved music. Daddy had given me a deep appreciation for it, and I’d always hoped I’d find that same quality in the man I fell in love with. It was too soon to tell if Will would be the man to capture my heart, but we were off to a great start.
If I believed in fate, then were Brandon and I destined to meet tonight? And for what purpose? I pushed away the idea. I was meant to deliver a message to him, nothing more. Just because our paths had crossed once, didn’t mean they would again.
Chapter Eight
Brandon
“I’m glad to see you took my advice to heart,” Scott said when we met for dinner the following evening.
It was our weekly check-in. He was one of my few friends in Dallas besides Tristan, and he’d started the tradition when I’d first moved here. Initially, I’d attended because he’d made it a requirement of representing me. But I’d actually come to enjoy our weekly dinners, to look forward to them. Outside of practice, I didn’t have much human contact. It was only more lately that I minded the loneliness. For years, I hadn’t even noticed it, I’d been so consumed with football.
I frowned, glancing at him over the top of my menu. “What are you talking about?”
“The girl.” He looked at me expectantly. “The blonde with the fair skin and the doe eyes.”
I leaned back, draping my arm over the back of the empty chair next to me. “Staci?”
“Yes. I couldn’t have picked a better candidate myself. She’s purity and innocence and light.”
I scrunched up my face. “Purity and innocence and light?” I asked, sounding like an echo.
“Just the kind of girl you need for your image. Though, I dare say, she is a bit young.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Is she?” I asked, feeling as though I knew nothing.
My heart was pounding in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. All I knew was that when I saw her, my heart recognized its mate. I didn’t think it was possible to find love again, not for a man like me. A man who didn’t deserve love.
“She’s nineteen,” he said, glancing at his menu. “Geez. What did you talk about dinner?”
What hadn’t we talked about? Everything and nothing. She’d been refreshing and sweet, and…
“Wait. Why did you think we were dating?” I asked.
“Son, you forget I have alerts on your name. Anytime a news article pops up or there’s a post on Instagram, I’m the first to know. You might want to do the same. It’s good to know what’s being said about you.”
“Then what would I pay you for?” I deadpanned. He smirked but didn’t take the bait. “Besides, you know half of it is trash.”
“True, but it’s always good to have your finger on the pulse.” And this was why he was the agent, and I was the athlete.
The waiter took our order then disappeared. I sensed the curious stares of nearby diners, but I shut them out. It was the only way to survive this life. When you were constantly on display, it was like living in a fishbowl. I didn’t think a girl like Staci would enjoy that aspect.
I shook my head. Why was I thinking about her? Better yet, why couldn’t I stop thinking about her?
“Where are you taking her for your second date?” he asked before taking a sip of his water.
I frowned. “I’m not. We’re not dating.”
There hadn’t been a first date, and there would absolutely be no second date. I’d spent a few hours with Staci, and that was the end of it. I wasn’t dragging her into this life. Besides, she was interested in… What was his name? Will?
Scott leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said the past week? Contract renewal. Settle down.”
I huffed. “Yes. I heard you. But not her,” I said, trying to appease him.
“Why not? She’s perfect. And have you heard her voice?” he asked, shaking his head.
I tugged at my collar. “Her voice?”
“She’s a talented singer,” he stated the answer as if it were obvious.
I’d noticed a musical quality to her voice, sure. But to discover she was a singer… Where Scott was gleeful about this discovery, I was suspicious. Had she been using me last night to gain exposure? I didn’t think so, and I hated that I had to even question her motives. But that’s what happened when you became a celebrity on top of already being a billionaire. Most people, women especially, weren’t interested in me—they were interested in what I could do for them.
“Are you stalking this girl?” I teased. “Should I take out a restraining order on her behalf?”
“No, I’m not stalking her. Though you should be. Seriously, have you seen some of the hashtags trending on Instagram? They’re so much
better than your flavor of the month one.” He rolled his eyes. “You might never live that one down. Though #Brandon’sAngel is certainly an improvement.” He set his phone on the table and began tapping on the screen.
“Why are they calling her my angel?” I asked, glossing over the fact that no, I didn’t spend time on social media other than to post and run.
“Because she has the voice of an angel. And, well, that halo of blond hair doesn’t hurt either. Here,” he said, shoving his phone in my hand. “Watch this.”
I removed a set of earbuds from my pocket and plugged them into the phone as the waiter delivered our meal. I pressed Play, and a video started streaming. The camera was focused on a guitar at first, though the hands playing it looked more masculine than Staci’s delicate ones. Then the camera zoomed out and there was a guy playing the guitar—mid-twenties if I had to guess. Staci came into the frame next, wearing a black dress.
She smiled nervously, but then took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She swayed with the music, completely in her element after she’d gotten over the initial anxiety of being on camera. When she opened her mouth, the most beautiful sound came out. Her voice was magical, and I was transfixed by her.
The guitarist kept stealing glances at her and smiling. I understood the feeling—you couldn’t help but be swept up in the song, in her joy. But it was the way he looked at her as the last chords faded to nothingness. While the song was dying, his admiration for her was being stoked. And it was like a punch to the gut. Was this the guy she was dating—or rather, not dating? I furrowed my brow, trying to remember exactly what she’d said about him. Was this Will?
I glanced down at the timestamp on the video—it had been uploaded mere hours ago. I yanked out the headphones and glared at the screen.
“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, trying to understand the reason for my sudden change in mood.
I slid the phone across the table to him and began cutting into my salmon with more force than necessary. I was pulverizing the delicate fish. “Look at the timestamp.”
“What about it?” He glanced down at it, then back it me. “It was uploaded today.” His eyes bored into mine, and I knew he wasn’t going to let this thing go about Staci. Not without a fight.
“Exactly. Right after her date with me.”
“So?” he asked, taking another bite.
“So…” I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a fire course through my veins. “You don’t think that’s a little suspicious?” I certainly did. It felt a lot like she was using me. Using my celebrity status to increase her own.
“Stop being so paranoid,” Scott said. “Believe me, the girl’s clean. I did a full background and credit check. No outstanding tickets. No overdue library books.” He took a sip of his water. “Though her mother does have quite a bit of debt to her name.”
I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. This conversation was giving me a headache. When I opened my eyes again, Scott had resumed eating his meal, acting as if my distress was of no consequence.
“What?” He shrugged.
“You don’t think that gives her sufficient motivation to want to capitalize on my celebrity status?” I asked. “Money is a very powerful motivator.”
“You met her. You tell me. Does she seem like the type of girl to try to take advantage of the situation?” His expression was earnest, but I knew he’d already made up his mind. I was dating this girl, like it or not.
I thought about it. I thought about everything I knew about Staci. She’d been insulted by my remarks to that effect. And I didn’t think it was an act. Or maybe I was craving a genuine connection so badly that I was willing to believe anything. Somehow though, I believed her.
“No, but—”
“Great.” Scott interrupted me as the waiter refilled our drinks. “It’s settled then.”
But I couldn’t date her. Not only was she interested in someone else, she was young. But it was more than that. Even in the brief time we’d spent together, she made me feel vulnerable, exposed.
I clenched my fists beneath the table. “I won’t do this. I won’t date her.”
“Why not? Why is she any different from any of the others?” he asked.
I tried to come up with a way to phrase my answer, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Well, I could, but I wasn’t going to admit my reasons to Scott. If he knew how she made me feel, he’d only push me even harder. For years, he’d been urging me to date again—for real. Or at least to make more friends on the team. He was pushier than my mother.
“She’s dating someone else,” I said.
“Who?” He scoffed. “The guy from the video?”
“Yeah.” I took a bite of my dinner, even though I’d lost my appetite.
“You sure?” Scott narrowed his eyes at the screen then turned them back to me, clearly skeptical.
“Pretty sure,” I lied.
She’d said they’d been hanging out. She’d told me she wanted to date him. I got the impression she really liked him. And if his expression in the video was any indication, he was interested too.
“Hmm.” Scott rubbed his chin with his hand. “Then it’s a good thing you’re one of the most persistent people I know. You’re also handsome, rich, and well-connected.”
Where was he going with this?
He leaned forward and grinned. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to persuade her.”
I groaned, rubbing my face with my hands. “This is a bad idea.”
A date was one thing, but a fake relationship? I shook my head. It seemed like even more work than a real one.
“Bad idea or not, it’s working.” Scott grinned down at his phone. “Arthur just texted me.”
Arthur: I trust this means the flavor of the month club will no longer be offered.
Scott: It’s been taken off the menu.
I rolled my eyes. They were texting about my love life like I was an ice cream shop or some kind of joke. Though I guess I only had myself to blame for that.
Scott slid the phone back across the table, where a new text message was displayed. I tried to focus on the words on the screen and ignore his smug grin.
Arthur: I’m looking forward to meeting her at end of season party.
“That’s almost two months away from now,” I blurted.
For the last seven years, I’d devoted myself to the team, to the sport. I did my job, and I did it well. I stayed out of trouble. I didn’t get arrested or start fights on the field. Yet it wasn’t enough.
“And?” Scott asked, as if that wasn’t a problem.
“He’s testing me.” I clenched my glass. I would not cause a scene.
“Exactly. He expects you to show him that you’re committed.”
“I am committed—to the team,” I ground out.
“And you can prove that to Arthur, by dating Staci. At least until the ink is dry on your contract. Though, I’d advise at least waiting a while after so Arthur doesn’t suspect anything.”
When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Or you could retire.”
I shook my head. “You know I’m not going to do that.” Football was my universe, and I still had things I wanted to accomplish.
I sighed, dropping my face in my hands. This was so messed up. Not to mention deeply disappointing. Shouldn’t it be enough that I was a talented, dedicated player? That I’d spent my entire career with the Eagles?
“Buck up, buttercup,” Scott said, and I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “She’s beautiful. You’re rich. Have a little fun.”
“Right,” I huffed. “Fun.”
“Geez. It’s not like he’s telling you to marry her,” Scott said, sipping his drink.
I tensed. Like I would ever allow that to happen. I’d nearly been married once, and I knew it wasn’t in the cards for me.
Scott’s expression softened. “Give him what he wants, and you get what you want. Win-win.”
I sighed, knowing this was an argument I’d already lost.
My life, my position on the team, the very essence of who I was, were on the line. And everything depended on Staci. Could I convince her to be my fake girlfriend?
Unfortunately, I didn’t really have much of a choice.
Chapter Nine
Staci
Aunt Karen peeked her head around the corner to the conference room where I was preparing swag bags. “Staci, can you come to my office?”
“Um, sure.” I stood and wiped my hands on my skirt, feeling a bit like I was being summoned to the principal’s office.
“Take a seat,” she said, shutting the door behind me. I felt queasy, and I wondered what was going on.
People had been giving me strange looks all day, but I had no idea why. I’d checked that my skirt wasn’t tucked in my underwear. There was no toilet paper attached to my shoe. Still, something weird was definitely going on. Was she going to fire me?
She folded her hands on her desk, poised as ever. “I need to talk to you about your new boyfriend.”
I burst out laughing before I realized she wasn’t kidding. “Will?” I asked, thinking that must be who she was referring to even though we weren’t dating.
She furrowed her brows. “No, Brandon. Brandon James.”
“Is this a joke?” I asked but her expression remained serious. “Why would you think I’m dating Brandon James?”
She leaned forward. “The whole world thinks you’re dating Brandon James. That you’re his new flavor of the month.”
My eyes went wide. “They what?”
“Well maybe not his flavor of the month. At least they’re calling you Brandon’s Angel instead of that degrading hashtag. Haven’t you been online at all today?”
“No,” I choked out. “I, um, I’ve been busy with the swag bags, and there’s no Wifi in the conference room.”
Catching the Billionaire Page 6