by Kensie King
THE AGREEMENT
_________________________________
A FAKE IT NOVEL
KENSIE KING
THE AGREEMENT
Copyright © 2019 Kensie King
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This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
CONTENTS
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Summary
Newsletter Signup
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Connect with the Author
Sneak Peek of Until You
SUMMARY
Corporate lawyer Lucas Stone is on the fast track to making partner. His dedication has served him well over the years and given him a shot at getting that coveted position. Until the partners tell him that in order to get promoted, he needs more balance in his life. A support system. Someone to go home to.
So he lies.
Just one small, white lie, that leads them to believe he’s been seeing someone and it’s getting serious. Which means Lucas has to find a boyfriend quick, and he has the perfect idea who—unfortunately, it’s the same man whose heart he broke unintentionally and hasn’t seen since.
Ronan Pierce is a classic movie buff who’d rather live in a musical than real life. After the death of his mother and the heartbreak of being walked out on by the man he was falling in love with, he doesn’t need any more reality in his life. But when Roe loses his job and Lucas shows up again and makes him an offer he can’t refuse, life gets real fast.
Now, Roe is in the acting role of his life, pretending to love Lucas and finding it hard to draw the line between what’s fake and what’s real. Because after all this time, the man who broke his heart wants him back, and he’ll stop at nothing to make their agreement permanent.
The Agreement is a full-length novel in the Fake It series, stories about fake relationships that end in happily-ever-afters. The Agreement can be read as a standalone without a cliffhanger.
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1
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LUCAS
The lie I’d told my partners echoed in the silence of the board room long after they’d left, when it was only me and my assistant Olivia and her disapproving stare.
“Well,” Olivia said, nodding slowly, “that’s one way to try to make partner.”
I shot her a glare before rubbing my hands over my face with a quiet groan. “What was I supposed to say?”
“Maybe that you don’t have a boyfriend. Or even a plant. Not even a pet rock—”
“Thanks,” I said dryly, stopping her from pointing out exactly what I already knew.
My personal life needed a little work. A spark.
Olivia pressed her lips together, clearly not saying exactly what I was thinking. Who was I kidding? My personal life needed a lot more than I was letting on—not just a simple spark. It needed a full-on resuscitation. A defibrillator.
But that had been the plan. Focus on my career first, and then, I’d just assumed a life would follow. Or not. To be honest, I hadn’t cared that much over the years. I saw relationships all around me that were painful and destructive.
Relationships were highly overrated.
Love was highly overrated. After all, love could be lost as quickly as it was gained.
“Anything else need to be done before I head out?” Olivia asked, stacking a pile of papers in front of her and looking far more eager than I was to start the weekend.
Olivia probably had a very full personal life. I knew she had a boyfriend and a dog—that was already two checks on the list where mine would have been blank. She probably had plants, too. And family she talked to all the time. Friends. Neighbors.
I had a lady who came to clean my house for me once a week. Her name was Jessie, and she probably had a life, too.
I pushed to my feet and paced in front of the large bank of windows that overlooked the city. Outside, the world was alive with people, cars, food, life. But I spent most of my days in here, drafting mergers and acquisitions, taking calls and assuring clients that they were in good hands.
Just like my dad had. I was still making my mark.
And once I became partner, I’d be able to do that the way I wanted.
“Thank you, Olivia,” I said, nodding in her direction. “That will be all.”
She scooped the files into her arms and exited the room.
Just ten minutes ago, Hawking, Baker, and Fisher had all been in here with their assistants and other associates—ones I had no intention of seeing being promoted above me.
I deserved that position. I put in the hours, I networked, I was a team player. I checked all the boxes.
I frowned. All but one, apparently.
I exited the board room and went straight for my office, passing Olivia on the way to the spacious area. I’d earned this space, too. Corner office—which ironically had two plants—a large desk and room for me to pace in front of my own windows.
In the evenings, much like today, I could see the apartment building across the street. They held epic rooftop parties there, ones that looked much like the parties I’d attended years ago before my dad had died and life had more balance.
On the shelves behind the giant mahogany desk, I had one lone picture of the family when my dad had been alive. He stood in front of the large colonial he’d lived in with my mom for over thirty years, and the home my sister and I had grown up in. Lexi and I posed on the step below them, young and full of ambition.
I’d been accepted to law school that summer and Lexi had graduated high school as valedictorian. A perfect family.
Swallowing, I walked to the window. Someone was already setting up for tonight, moving chairs around and setting tables between them for drinks and hors d’ouerves. In a few hours, lights on strings would illuminate the space and music would fill the air. Loud enough I could usually hear the pulse of it in my chair when I worked late into the evening.
My jaw clenched. What the hell had I been thinking telling the partners I had a boyfriend—someone I’d met recently who I’d been spending time with? How desperate was that? And did they really believe me after seeing me here night after night, working my ass off to make partner?
Surprisingly, they had no qualms with how much I worked. Or how connected I was. They just wanted to make sure I had something outside of work to keep me balanced. A support system at home.
Like my dad had had.
A fake boyfriend seemed logical. That had been what they wanted, right? But the reality was that I rarely saw my family, so they didn’t act as my support system, and I didn’t have a boyfriend either.
Olivia peeked her head into the room. “Mr. Stone?”
I turned. “Yes?”
“I finalized the paperwork for Morrison Banking and I’ll have a courier bring it over Monday morning. I think that’s the last thing on the schedule for today.”
I didn’t doubt it. Olivia was a hard worker and got shit done. We utilized our legal assistants around here because we were a learning firm, as well as one of the most established offices in the city. Having young, eager faces around to help and to teach kept us on our toes but also made things more efficient in the long run.
“Thank you, Olivia,” I said.
She hesitated at the door. “You have any plans for this weekend?”
I almost snorted. Me? Plans? “Nothing exciting,” I murmured. “Have a good weekend.”
She smiled in a way that said she knew exactly what my plans were. The same plans I had every weekend. Work.
“You too,” she said before leaving.
I turned around again to stare out the window, my words to the partners floating over and over in my head. The lie I’d told.
There might be work that needed to be done this weekend, but right now I had a bigger purpose.
I needed to find a boyfriend.
2
____________________
ROE
My asshole boss, Mr. Steiner, wasn’t in yet, which meant the coffee shop had an air of relaxation and fun about it. We were actually able to listen to something besides classical music, able to talk to our customers like they were actual people instead of wallets, and I was able to put out the big bucket.
It was beautiful. My co-workers had helped me decorate it and show it the same kind of love I gave it.
In actuality, the big bucket was just an old cookie jar with the words Save the Kelly Theatre! written across it in a metallic gold font. My friend Elise had put stickers along the top, another employee had tied a ribbon around the rim, and I’d added a quote from one of my favorite actors, Gene Kelly, on the side.
His acting and dancing made people smile, and so did the Kelly Theatre. There was no way in hell I was letting it get sold.
“Shirley,” I said, giving the old lady who walked through the door a wide smile. “Love the hair.”
She reached up to fluff it before leaning heavily on her cane and making her way to the counter. I gave all the regulars old movie star names and they loved it. Mrs. Lewis was Shirley because of her curly red hair and because she’d confided in me once that she practiced tap dancing in her room late at night when she was supposed to be sleeping.
I rang up her usual order. “You look stunning.”
“Oh, now,” she murmured, cheeks flushing. “Don’t make an old lady blush.”
“You just need a pair of shoes to go with that outfit. Tap shoes.”
Her eyes went dreamy, deep smile lines creasing the corners. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?”
“We all have dreams,” I told her, reaching for a cup and writing Shirley Temple on the side. “But some of us are smart enough to go after them. You should get yourself those shoes.”
If I’d had any extra money, I’d buy them for her myself. Mrs. Lewis was one of my favorite customers. Sweet, caring, practically older than electricity. And we both shared a love for classic movies that bonded us immediately.
“What’s showing at The Kelly this week?” she asked.
I grinned at her. It was one of my secret weekend pleasures. I’d been helping Mr. Carson at the Kelly Theatre since I was a teenager, and on Saturday’s he let me do late-night showings of some of the classics. Hardly anyone came, but those who did were diehard fans like me.
We sat side by side in the three middle rows with our popcorn and drinks and swooned over the great actors of the past. And I’d hop up every once in a while to fix the projector. The Kelly Theatre was one of the last theaters in the United States that hadn’t switched to digital film yet. That was part of its charm.
Also part of what was putting it out of business. People wanted newer and better things. Reclining seats and blockbuster movies and sound.
But that was part of what made the experience. Listening to the hum and click of the projector, eating popcorn made in the old poppers, watching the red curtain rise before the show.
If I had the money, I’d buy that place in a heartbeat and remodel it to make it look exactly like it had when it had been brand new and had shown musicals on-stage. Then I’d show classic movies at night and give the community the real experience.
No, when. When I had the money, that was what I was going to do.
And the big bucket was already filling up nicely.
“12 Angry Men,” I told her.
“Be still my heart. Gregory Peck.”
With a nod, I poured espresso into her cup. “Man candy.”
Her cheeks flushed again. “Tell me about it.”
“I hope you’ll be able to make it,” I told Mrs. Lewis.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Even though it’s way past my bedtime.” She moved down the counter and waited for me to finish making her latte. “Maybe I’ll even come wearing tap shoes.”
I placed my hand against my chest. “Please do. Gregory will love it.”
After passing over her drink, I turned to wipe the counter and nearly bumped into Elise.
“Whoa…” She managed to balance the smoothie she held. “Almost had blueberry all over me.”
“Sorry.” I stepped out of her way, noting the frown on her face.
She capped the smoothie and set it on the counter. “Natalie!” she called, eyes searching the coffee shop for the customer. Her smile was pinched when the girl walked to retrieve her drink.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Her eyes flitted around the shop, probably searching for our boss out of habit. Employees were only allowed to talk about their personal lives on break.
Which was ridiculous because I heard Mr. Steiner in his office at least three times a week talking to someone at his bank or the landlord at his building or something else as personal and non-work-related.
“He’s not coming in until three,” I told her.
She folded her arms. “Right at the end of your shift. Lucky you.”
I grinned. “Can’t argue with that. And look—the bucket is already almost full.”
Her eyes flitted to the wads of bills shoved inside the cookie jar and softened. “I’m happy for you, Roe.”
I knew she was. Elise had been my roommate for almost two years, just after I’d moved to the city to get on my feet. I’d needed a friend and she’d been the best one I could have found. Getting a job working here with her was just a bonus.
“Then what’s wrong?” I asked, smiling at another customer as they walked through the door.
“Our apartment. That’s what’s wrong.”
“Did the toilet clog again? Dammit. I thought that was fixed. I swear—”
“No, that’s not it. The toilet’s fine. For now.”
“But?” I glanced over my shoulder at her as I stepped up to the counter. “Can I help you?”
“Not sure what I want,” the woman said. “Something heavy. With chocolate.”
“Scary,” I said with a nod. “Totally. Sometimes you need something that’s really going to stay with you.”
She chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. I like it.”
“Hitchcock,” I said with a smile. “He wanted to grip the audience and hold them captive. You need extra espresso and mocha for sure.”
“Yes!” Her eyes flitted to Elise. “Does he always do this?”
“He’s a coffee expert.”
“I’ll take it, then,” the woman said.
I wrote Hitchcock on her cup and took her money. Once the order was finished, I nudged Elise on the arm again.
“Just spill it.”
“Rudy’s trying to raise our rent again.”
“Shit. Landlord from hell,” I murmured, my stomach twisting. “Can he do that?”
“I hope not. He just raised our rent six months ago. Or was it nine?” Her nose scrunched and she frowned. “I really should remember these things. But maybe…” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a good thing.”
“A good thing? Paying more money to an asshole landlord is a good thing?” I reached out and put a hand on her forehead. “Do you have a fever, honey? Do you need to lay down?”
She slapped my hand away. “No, I’m fine. I’m just saying. There are other things in the picture now…”
Jason. I knew immediately what she was talking about. Her boyfriend. The one who’d been staying at our place almost every single night this past month. I didn’t mind—mostly—but I imagined they did. The walls were thin in our place.
And there wasn’t much room regardless.
Elise and Jason were very affectionate.
Another customer came in and I stepped to the counter again, losing some of my pep from before. Every time I thought I was getting closer to my goal of being able to buy the theater, something else got in the way.
I envied Elise and Jason. At least they had each other to talk to when things got hard. I still had Elise, I reminded myself, but she didn’t keep me warm at night.
It had been a long time since anyone had kept me warm at night, and that had been disastrous.
“Let’s talk about it tonight,” I suggested.
Right now, I had Elise and I had my job. It was probably the best I was going to get.
The customer shoved a dollar in the big bucket.
And I had the dream of something more.
3
____________________
LUCAS
Every time I saw Elise, she looked different. This time, her hair had a pink streak right down the side and she wore platforms that looked straight out of the 90s. Come to think of it, she looked similar to the very first time I’d seen her in law school, her punk style completely out of place with the throng of young men in unremarkable clothes they probably wore to brunch with their families.