by Susan Stoker
Turning back from the window, I met my manager’s eyes. “Give me a few days to think. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Okay.” His lined face was more serious than I’d ever seen it before. “You need to come up with something that will satisfy the board. It’s not only your reputation at stake, it’s the club’s, too.”
“I know.” There was nothing more to be said, so I made for the door.
“Jake?”
I paused in the doorway, turning to look back at him.
“Don’t let me down. I want you on the team.”
With a sharp nod, I left him.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Out in the corridor, I ran into Alex Bryan, my friend and teammate. “Afternoon, mate.” His face broke into a grin when he saw me, his blue eyes sparkling. They dimmed when he took me in. “What’s up?”
“Just had a meeting with Drew. If I don’t clean up my act, they’re gonna drop me.”
He stared at me, his brows pulled together. “What? They can’t do that.”
Sighing, I began to walk in the direction of the exit, Alex falling into step with me. “They can. The board had a meeting.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Alex held the door open, letting me through, before he stepped out after me.
“Unless you can magically make the tabloids love me, no.”
He stopped dead, gripping my arm. “Wait. I can’t do that, but are you busy? Got time for a pint?”
“Not sure that the pub is gonna solve anything, mate.”
“It won’t, but Ethan might. He’s good with advice and shit.”
Ethan Barrett. One of Alex’s two best friends. Owner of Barrett London, a boutique and highly sought-after digital marketing agency. Rich, successful, and all-around good guy.
“Yeah. I have time for a pint,” I found myself saying. Maybe Ethan would be able to help out.
It was worth a try, because I was out of ideas.
Settled in a wooden booth in the corner of the busy pub, I lifted my pint glass to my lips, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat while I waited for Ethan’s verdict.
“I feel for you.” Luke Davenport, Alex’s other best friend, spoke up. He ran his hand through his inky hair, a smirk on his face. “Maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much time in the sin bin this season. Oh, and headbutting Thomas and getting the suspension.”
“Thomas deserved it,” Alex cut in, leaning forwards over the table and brimming with indignation. “Did you see that tackle on Southall? The ref didn’t even catch it.”
Ethan tapped his phone on the table, turning our attention away from my misdemeanours and onto him. His dark eyes focused on me. “I may have an idea. I need to speak to the other person involved first, but how would you feel about dating?”
“No, thanks. That’s the last thing I need, right now.” I drained the rest of my pint and thumped my glass back on the table.
“Hold on. Let me explain. I’m talking a mutually beneficial arrangement, where both of you are in agreement that the dates are just for show. Be seen in a few high-profile places, look like you’re enjoying it, the paps take your picture…” He grinned. “It’s the perfect plan.”
“Wait a minute.” Luke stared at him. “Are you forgetting how you ended up with a fiancée? Does a fake wedding date ring any bells? Jake isn’t interested in a relationship.”
“This is nothing like that,” Ethan insisted. “Avery and I had chemistry from the beginning. I just chose to ignore it. This time, if the person I’m thinking of agrees, I know that there will be absolutely no risk. Jake is not only not her type, she isn’t his, either. They couldn’t be more different. Believe me, there is no chance of any attraction.”
“Hmm.” Luke’s hum of disbelief brought a hint of a smile to my face. He drained his own pint and stood. “I need to get going if I don’t want to be late to meet Liv. Jake—good luck. Sounds like you might need it.”
I rolled my eyes. “You reckon?” Turning to address Ethan, I continued. “Count me in for these fake dates. As long as you understand I wouldn’t even consider this if I wasn’t in deep shit with the club.”
“Leave it with me.” Ethan stood, too, grabbing his briefcase from the seat next to him. “I’ll get back to you by tomorrow.”
“In the meantime, slide your eyes to your left.” Alex spoke in a low voice, and I followed his gaze to two women perched on stools at one of the high tables by the window, both eyeing us appreciatively.
“This is the kind of view I like.” I let my gaze trail over the woman closest to the window, noting her lips curve up as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, drinking me in.
“No.” My head spun to see Ethan still standing there, frowning down at me. “No other women while this fake dating is happening.”
“It hasn’t even started yet.” Alex threw him an unimpressed look.
“It will be happening, if I have anything to do with it. No other women.”
I raised my hands. “Whatever, mate. I have plenty of self-control. I’m sure I can handle a few weeks without sex, or however long this needs to go on for.”
“Can you?”
Alex’s horrified stare had both me and Ethan laughing. “Yeah, mate. I can.” I sobered up as I reminded him of the whole reason that we were doing this. “It’s my career on the line. As much as I love women, rugby means everything to me. I guess I didn’t realise I’d fucked up badly enough to put it at risk.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I’m not losing my teammate.” He reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “In fact, I can be your sponsor. You know how people have an AA sponsor that they call when they’re tempted?”
“Yes…”
“If you see a woman that catches your eye, you can call me, and I’ll take care of the situation for you. Once she sees me, she’ll be all, ‘Jake who?’”
“Great plan,” Ethan said dryly. “Anyway, I’ll call you tomorrow at the latest. Maybe even later this evening.” He lifted his hand in farewell, then turned and made his way through the crowds, heading in the direction of the pub doors.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked Alex, once he was gone.
Alex stared down at the table, flipping a beer mat over and over as he thought. “I do,” he said eventually. “It’s worth trying, at least. What do you have to lose?”
Nothing. It wasn’t as if I could make things much worse.
I just had to hope that Ethan came through for me.
4
Victoria
Curled up on the sofa in Ethan and Avery’s penthouse apartment, I ignored my phone which was lighting up with messages with an increased frequency. I was this close to blocking my mother. Yes, she was my mother, but her interfering nature was stifling me. I just wanted to hide away.
Who ends with an annulled marriage at twenty-four, after only being married for a few months? Me. The day of my wedding, I’d known deep down that I was making a mistake. Instead of backing out, I chose to ignore the signs. My ex-husband didn’t even wait for the ink to dry on our marriage license before he was sleeping with another woman. And she wasn’t the only one, either.
When I’d found out, and I realised that the overriding emotion I was feeling was relief, I knew that our charade of a marriage had to end. Looking back, I don’t think I’d even loved him. Not really. More, the idea of him. He certainly hadn’t loved me, that was for sure. He wanted someone respectable to look pretty on his arm and charm his business associates and society acquaintances.
We’d never consummated our marriage, not after I’d found him with the other woman in our hotel room on our wedding night. Three months into our sham of a marriage, we’d agreed on an annulment, and I moved back in with my mother. The previous nine or ten months, or however long we’d suffered together, had been like hell, in all honesty. She’d spent the first few months begging me to take my ex-husband back, and when she realised that it wasn’t going to happen, she’d changed tact
ics. Now, she was desperately trying to find me a man. As if I needed a man to be happy.
Not that it was all about me. She was also trying to save face. My short marriage and subsequent annulment reflected badly on her. Of course, she cared about me and wanted me to be happy. But our ideas of happiness were vastly different.
Anyway, all of this had led me to packing my bags and moving in with my brother and his fiancée. This was only a temporary situation—my plan was to find a place of my own as soon as possible, but having never lived in London, I wanted a chance to get to know the city and find a place I wanted to put down roots. In the meantime, Ethan and Avery had welcomed me into their home, and Ethan had even set me up with a temporary job at Barrett London. I had money, but I needed to work, and as Ethan pointed out, I could be stuck working somewhere I hated, or I could be working with him. I wasn’t too proud to accept the help, and over the last couple of weeks I’d come to enjoy the routine and the work I was doing.
“Evening, V.”
I was pulled from my thoughts by my brother’s greeting. Dropping down next to me on the sofa, still in his work suit, he glanced over at me with an odd expression on his face.
“What’s that look for? How was the pub?”
“The pub was…interesting.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through it. “What do you know of Jake Savage?”
“Jake Savage?” I repeated. Vague memories of a broody-looking, bulky tattooed guy came to mind. “Oh, wait. He was at your engagement party, wasn’t he? Alex’s friend? The rugby player?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Ethan passed me his phone, open on the website of a red top newspaper. “Now, look at this.”
“You know I don’t read the tabloids, Ethan.”
“Read it.”
“Fine.” Taking the phone from his hand, I scanned the article.
Rugby’s Bad Boy in Savage Bar Brawl Shocker!
“Ethan, this is distasteful.” I skimmed the story, wrinkling my nose. The article described, in gleefully salacious detail, how Jake Savage had apparently been at a bar where he started an unprovoked fight with one of the patrons. The article was accompanied by a number of grainy CCTV pictures, an image of Jake mid-action on the rugby field, and a headshot of the “victim,” who had a black eye. “I’m a big fan of the London Hawks,” he told the journalist. “But Mr. Savage is well known for starting trouble both on and off the pitch, and he was there that night. I’ll let you make your own minds up.”
“That’s just the latest one. The tabloids have it in for him. Some of the articles have some truth to them, but this one is a complete fabrication.”
“How do you know that?” I eyed my brother, curious.
“Well, first of all, he told Alex that it wasn’t true. He has no reason to lie to Alex—you know Alex wouldn’t even care if it were true. Second of all, from everything I know, he only drinks alcohol when he has a day off the following day. Doesn’t even touch it otherwise. And the only time I’ve ever heard of him getting into fights outside of rugby itself is if he’s been drinking. As far as I know, that’s only happened on two occasions, both of them months ago. I believe he was provoked both times, as well.”
“Okay. Why are you telling me all this?” Pulling my legs up on the sofa, I twisted to face him fully. “I assume there’s a point to it all.”
“There is.” Placing his phone down, he gave me his full attention. “I have an offer for you. One that will give our mother a huge hint that she’s not the one controlling your dating life. And she may just be scandalised enough to stop throwing men at you.”
“Go on.” I stared at him, my curiosity piqued.
“Here’s what I propose…”
5
Victoria
My hands resting in my lap, I sat completely still at the small table, tucked away in the back corner of the quiet coffee shop. I’d been taught how to act with poise and grace—no matter how much I was trembling inside, outwardly, no one would ever know.
Keeping my expression neutral, I waited while Ethan spoke to Jake Savage in a low voice. Would this work? How were we supposed to fool the tabloids? He wasn’t my type. Not even close. Too tall, too muscular, too tattooed…too much. Not to mention his undesirable reputation. Whether the article Ethan had shown me was true or not, there was a reason he’d been dubbed “rugby’s bad boy” by the tabloids. I’d spent a good couple of hours the previous evening googling him, and there had to be some truth to at least some of the articles.
It was clear he felt the same way. The way his gaze flicked over me with complete disinterest before returning to Ethan’s showed me exactly what he thought of me.
When Ethan had come to me with the offer, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. A chance to show my mother that I’d moved on and didn’t need her “help” in dating, and maybe I’d even shock her in the process. Jake was decidedly not like the society men she’d prefer I dated.
I owed it to Ethan, too. He’d been so kind, so helpful to me when I was attempting to get my life back on track, that going on a few fake dates with his friend in order to improve his reputation was nothing.
Eventually, Ethan had finished speaking to Jake, and they made their way over to me. “Jake, this is my sister, Victoria.”
I turned to Jake, holding out my hand for him to take. “Victoria Barrett.”
He ignored my hand, sliding into the seat opposite me. Ethan sighed. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Remember, you have to look like you like each other.”
With that piece of advice, he left me alone with the tall, brooding man, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Want a coffee?” he finally offered, when the silence stretched uncomfortably. As he spoke, he refused to even look at me.
“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” I suggested, countering his offer. “This is a little awkward, and I think we could both use a drink.”
Startled, his eyes flew to mine, and I was frozen under the full force of his stare. Light green eyes, cold and hard, studied me for a moment. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”
Seated in a small booth in the VIP area of the riverside bar Jake had taken me to, I fiddled with the straw of my cocktail while I debated what to do. All my attempts at coaxing Jake into a conversation had been a failure. He was constantly shifting, uncomfortable, and completely disinterested in me. If this had been a real date, one or both of us would have left long before this.
“Look, let’s just talk business, shall we?” I waited until Jake looked up before I continued. “How do the paparazzi normally get photos of you?”
His eyes flashed with anger. “They get tipped off. People looking to make a quick bit of cash, usually. Sometimes, depending where it is, the staff will tip them off. Especially if it gives their business publicity. Then there are places that are well-known celebrity hangouts, although I generally avoid them.”
He sat back in his seat, his gaze returning to his drink while I stared at him. That was the most he’d said to me all in one go. It was clearly a touchy subject, which was unsurprising, given that the reason we were even in this situation to begin with was down to the tabloid articles and photos.
“Okay. Why don’t we start now?” I suggested. “Can you get someone to tip them off?”
Without a reply, he stood, disappearing off in the direction of the main bar area. I watched him go, my eyes drawn to his back muscles flexing under his tight light grey T-shirt. He leaned over the bar, his tattooed arms resting on the metal surface, and spoke to the bartender in a low tone.
When he returned, there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Done. Give it twenty minutes. You ready for your first taste of celebrity?”
“I can’t wait,” I muttered.
The time seemed to drag on forever, and finally, I needed an escape, just to get away from the table. “I’ll be back.”
In the loos, I checked my reflection. Soft baby blue cashmere cardigan over
a silky white top, a knee-length black pencil skirt, sheer tights, and nude Louboutins finished off the look. My dark hair was swept back into a smooth ponytail that hung down my back, and my makeup was light and natural, emphasising my brown eyes. In short, I looked neat and presentable. Worlds apart from the women Jake was normally photographed with. But that was the point, right?
When I returned, Jake watched my approach silently. The predatory vibes he was giving off set my nerves on edge, not that he’d be able to tell—or so I hoped. Taking a deep, bolstering breath, I met his gaze. “Are you ready?”
He slid out of the booth, his big body far too close to mine.
“I’m ready. Stay close to me, don’t answer any questions, and try to look happy.”
Right.
Taking my hand in his with a firm grip, he steered us in the direction of the doors. “Let’s get this over with.”
As the large windows at the front of the bar came into view, the glint of a camera lens across the street caught my eye. “There.”
“I see them,” he muttered. “Let them see your face—we want them to know who I’m on a date with.”
“But no one knows who I am.” I spoke out of the side of my mouth. Maybe this was a good time to learn the art of ventriloquy, if I had to carry on these kinds of conversations when cameras were focused on me.
“Ah. I might’ve mentioned it to the barman.”
“Brilliant.”
There was no time for either of us to say anything else, because Jake was swinging the doors open, and we were outside, and the swarm descended.
“Who’s your date, Jake?”
