Pretend I'm Yours_A Single Dad Romance

by Vivian Wood

  Just then, the hauntingly beautiful sound of a guitar solo came through the speakers, soon followed by a smooth, powerful male voice. She listened closely, slightly startled when the other, much louder instruments chimed in.

  Again, Rhys was watching her closely, making her stomach feel all warm and tingly, and driving her thoughts from the music flowing out of the speakers above him to the dangerous places of the man underneath. His left hand and forearm were covered in the black lines of tattoos which stretched under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Another tattoo peeked out from under the sleeve of his right arm. His arms were divine, defined muscles, although they weren't bulging. His chest was broad and strong and his shoulders wide, almost like a swimmer's would be. Her eyes swept over them to his chiseled face. He was studying her reactions intently, like he was trying to decipher her thoughts and like he really cared about what she thought.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her obvious approval, a smug grin fixed on his face. He didn't say anything though. He gave her some time to listen and then launched into an explanation of chords and rhythm and melody and other words that all seemed to flow into one as she got lost in the sound of his voice. As he spoke of music, the excitement and passion radiating from him seemed to fill the room.

  He picked up a guitar she hadn't spotted earlier and played a few chords, eyes closed. “... you get it now?” She caught only the end of his question, and her spine snapped as she sat up straight to make it look as though she had been paying attention to his words rather than the man himself.

  “Yeah, sort of, I guess. It’s really not just the noise it sounds like at first if you listen carefully, it’s something else entirely. You know what I get more, though?”

  “What?”

  “You’re really passionate about music, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about anything as passionately as you did right then.”

  It was a statement more than a question, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he looked straight into her eyes, holding her transfixed with his stare and asked quietly, “And what are you passionate about, Serena?”

  Suddenly, something in her clicked as he held her eyes with his. That's why he looked familiar! He was the beautiful man from the balcony at the charity gala the other night, she was sure of it!

  “Were you by any chance at a charity fundraiser for a social services foundation the other night?” she blurted out before she could stop herself, but she didn't give him a chance to answer.

  “I’m sorry, that must sound really creepy! It’s just, I thought you looked familiar downstairs and it just occurred to me now that you look just like someone that I saw on a balcony on my way out.”

  “Yeah, that was me.” He looked mildly surprised for a second, but then the corners of his mouth turned up in a heartstopping, mischievous grin. “Purple dress, right?” he asked, his eyes glinting.

  He remembered me? Wow, that's odd. I'm not really what you would call memorable, so it must have been my interruption of his thoughts he recalled, she thought. He had stared out over the city so intently... she wondered idly what it was he had been thinking about, not that she would ever ask.

  “Yeah, uhm, I’m sorry I interrupted you. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  “That seems to happen to you a lot, huh?” he mused, smiling serenely as she blushed. “So, inattentive Serena with the purple dress, 'fess up. What're you passionate about?”

  “Well, okay. Let’s see. A couple of weeks ago, I would’ve probably said my parents, maybe someone else. I think the only thing that’s left after the past few weeks is fashion. I love it. That’s what I was doing when I bumped in to you, staring at all the amazing outfits downstairs.”

  “Fashion, huh? That’s cool. And it led you to me,” he smirked. “So I guess that makes you passionate about me by extension?”

  She blushed furiously again, but didn't say anything. She just shook her head like he was a madman for suggesting such a thing. She wouldn't admit it, but he was definitely someone anyone could be passionate about. He was so intense, yet easy, and she... his voice pulled her, once more, out of her reverie.

  “Sounds like you’ve had a tough couple of weeks if you’ve lost something you were passionate about. I remember those so well…”

  “In a house that looks like this, filled with gorgeous girls and rock stars?” she joked, trying to lighten his sudden dark mood. “Must have some really tough times here.”

  “You like the house then?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, who wouldn't? Makes Josh's, I mean, our place look like a sorry little matchbox that ought to go sit in a corner and cry.”

  “Moved in with a guy, huh?”

  “Yeah, but it's not like that. He's one of my oldest friends. He took pity on me, so he's letting me crash in his spare bedroom for now. I had this huge fight with my parents over them not wanting me to go to design school... so I had to figure something out fast.”

  His eyes were still dark, his voice softer now. “Trust me, I didn't always live like this. The places I grew up in probably make your place now look like a fucking palace. I remember this one place-”

  The door she hadn't realized had closed behind them burst open at that moment, cutting Rhys off mid-sentence.

  Another beautiful man strode in to the room and she cringed a little, still not entirely confident that they were allowed to be in here.

  This man was almost as tall as Rhys and had the same air of confidence about him, but he wasn't quite as magnetic as the man sitting across from her. “Need you Rhys, NOW!” he almost barked, barely acknowledging her presence.

  Rhys looked alarmed, all his features suddenly seeming darker. “Serena, you'll find your way down, yeah? It was a pleasure, you're nice. I like you. Hope you'll consider becoming a fan,” he offered as he crossed the room and was out the door without so much as a second look back.

  “Hope you'll consider becoming a fan?” she heard the other guy say before the door slammed shut behind them.

  She walked over to the windows to take in the view one last time and then turned toward the door to try and find her friends before heading home. It was really late, or early, depending on how you thought about it, and she needed to get to bed.

  In the absence of Rhys' presence, she suddenly felt worn out and tired, if not at least a little lighter for having told him some of her story.

  On the way out the door she spotted a poster that had previously been hidden behind it. Thick dark letters half framed the top of a photograph of a group of five men. “Misery.” So this was the band, huh? The biggest band on the planet from what she'd heard, so she figured she'd better get a look at her absent hosts before she left.

  As she moved closer to the photograph, she lost her breath for the second time since entering this room, and she started to feel a bit dizzy.

  Staring out at her from the center of the poster, was the same man she had just been sitting across from, spilling her guts out to. He was the main man of the band from the looks of things. Misery's very own lead guitarist.

  Shit. What an idiot she had just made of herself. Feeling tears for a good old ugly cry coming on, she ran from the room, down the stairs and headed home without even thinking about finding her friends.

  That must have been why he was at the fundraiser, she realized somewhere in the back of her mind on her way home. Misery must have been the band that had donated all that money. She'd never proclaimed to be smart, but now she really felt idiotic.

  Chapter Seven

  Josh had been asleep by the time she'd gotten home, and was already gone by the time she woke up. The joys of being a responsible, working adult. Someone should really warn children to shop wishing they would grow up, she thought.

  The green lights of her alarm clock blinked at her. Okay, she hadn't slept in much, especially given the time she'd finally gotten to bed the night before. Never mind the time it took her to finally fall asleep despite her weariness. The humiliation stil
l stung and seemed to be a living, breathing entity laughing at her in the confines of her small, cluttered room.

  Right, onwards and upwards. It wasn't like she was ever going to see him again, so time for a shower, maybe a short run, and then back to the job hunt. Okay, so who was she kidding? She didn't run. Unless something was chasing her and it was really big and scary. And if there was no one else it could target. And if she'd suddenly found something to live for that would make it worth running away. And... no, again, she digressed.

  Shower and searching for a job it was. She grabbed a soft, comfortable skirt and top from her closet and headed toward the bathroom she shared with Josh. Just because she felt crummy didn't mean she needed to look it. Looking good didn't necessarily mean being uncomfortable.

  She was just stepping out of the shower when she heard a knock at the door. “Just a minute!” she yelled, hoping whoever was out there could hear her. She dressed quickly and wrapped her hair in a towel before going to answer the door. Josh must have ordered something, or shit, had she texted Mary that she was home safe? She's going to kill her, she thought.

  She flung the door open, her mouth already starting to form an apology for her best friend. “I'm... Rhys?” She blinked. What?

  “No, I'm Rhys, actually. But I'm glad you remembered. I brought breakfast.” He motioned to a pizza box cradled in his arm.

  Holy shit. He’s really here.

  Looking, if possible, even more gorgeous in the soft morning light out in the hallway than he had the night before. Dressed in dark skinny jeans, a tight black t-shirt and sunglasses pushed up into his hair, green eyes seemingly staring right into her soul through her own blue ones.

  There was no mistaking that it was, impossibly, the man himself. Although she knew that he couldn’t have gone to sleep long before she did and probably did only long after she had, he looked no worse for wear.

  Since she had been unable to sleep on account of her humiliation, she had Googled him before finally drifting off to sleep. The basic stats she found about the band within the space of about a millisecond were staggering. The sheer amount of interviews on YouTube made it seem impossible that they had ever lived off camera for more than a few hours over the course of the last five years when their first album had been released.

  The bare bones of it were:

  Born: Rhys Jason Grant. Goes by Rhys.

  Age: 27

  Siblings: Anders Donald Grant. Yes, Donald.

  Years active: 5 years. Lead guitarist and backup vocals for Misery.

  Almost 30 million followers on Twitter alone, more on Instagram.

  Five tours over five years. Two of them world tours. The last of which ended days before she had walked in on Bryan and the start of her subsequent downward spiral.

  She had planned to do a little more cyberstalking this morning. Was it possible he knew, and had come to stop her from invading their privacy? She wondered for a split second before realizing there was no way he could have known.

  She'd recovered enough to step aside, painfully aware that her face and feet were bare, and her hair was wrapped in a towel. Great. Apparently she was destined to be humiliated around this guy.

  He stepped inside the apartment and silently scanned his surroundings. “Not nearly as bad as you made it out to be. Definitely a palace in comparison to some places we've lived.”

  “Uh, thanks. And of course you are Rhys. Sorry, I was just surprised. I thought you were my friend Mary who I ran out on last night. Thanks for bringing breakfast. Pizza though? And uh, not that it's not great that you're here, but why are you here?” She tried to sound confident, but her voice was soft, hesitant.

  “Pizza is the perfect meal for any time of day. Besides, this is a breakfast pizza, it’s got eggs, cheese, mushrooms, bacon, bread… What else could you possibly want in breakfast? As for why I’m here, how about we get you fed first.”

  He headed confidently toward the kitchen, and by the time she was able to move her feet to follow him, he had already located plates and set the pizza in the center of the kitchen counter. She grabbed a slice and hesitated for only a second at the thought of a breakfast pizza before she took a small bite.

  Wow, that's actually good, she thought. Her mother would kill her if she were to ever find out she was eating pizza for breakfast, but she pushed the thought from her mind before it could ruin the moment.

  The moment, of course, being that she had a rock 'n' roll god and the world's favorite guitar player in her kitchen sharing his ridiculous breakfast pizza. He wolfed down three slices before she managed to finish her first, seemingly strangely happy she was eating. He was definitely an anomaly.

  “You know,” he began speaking softly, still watching her eat with a content look on his face. “The guys and I have been together for a long time. Long before Misery ever made it big. Anders and I, by now you probably know he's my biological brother. The other guys though, they might not be our brothers by blood, but they're just as much our brothers as if they did share our blood. Thank fuck for the fact they didn't have to share our beginnings though.”

  She just nodded. She'd started on her second slice of pizza, mostly so she could keep her mouth occupied with something other than talking, and it gave her a convenient excuse to just keep listening. Though, she had absolutely no idea why he was telling her this.

  “Milo and I met in high school. He spent every free second with me and Anders back then. We've been through a lot of shit together. So we just kinda stuck together. We met Jett when we were seventeen in... yeah, back when we were seventeen. Luc kinda followed us home one night when we were all nineteen, and stuck with us. We were all twenty-two when 'Hit the Road' made it big. Haven't looked back since.”

  She just kept nodding, not really tasting the pizza anymore, waiting for him to continue while stlil having no idea why he was telling her all this at barely 10:30 in the morning. Surely rock stars only went to bed by now? But then, what did she know...

  “Thing is, Serena, like I told you last night, I like you. You make me feel, shit, I don't know if this is the right word, but you make me feel normal. Like you're not trying just to suck my dick so you'll have a story to tell. You don't seem to give a shit about who's who, and that's refreshing.”

  She was completely at a loss for words, though she was starting to feel like she should at least say something. She had a feeling he was going somewhere with this little story now, though she still had no idea where that somewhere might be. Plus she was starting to feel just a little bit scared. And what scared her even more was that she was also feeling maybe, just a little bit exhilarated? Still, she just nodded. Her mouth was feeling dry, and the way he ran his tattooed hand through his soft dark hair was not helping things, at all.

  “The band's taking some heat coming off this last tour. We got a bit out of control along the way.” He laughed again, then corrected himself. “Some of us got a little more out of control than usual, I mean.”

  Oh, that laugh. She had hoped it was nothing more than a slightly drunken memory, but no, her insides still melted from the sound of it.

  “Last night, when you walked into me, I was working on an idea. An idea I think you might be perfect for. You're charming, totally hot enough, and what's more is that I think you might just like it. You'll have all the exposure you could ever want to the world of fashion. Designers will be drooling to meet you, to dress you.”

  He definitely had her attention now. “Okay, that doesn't sound awful,” she managed, though she could still feel herself blushing from his offhand comhernt about she was “totally hot enough” for whatever he had in mind. Rhys thought she was hot?

  “I discussed it with my lawyer and our manager this morning, they both think it’ll work. I don’t know anyone more perfect for the part. It’ll be a purely business arrangement, my lawyer can draw up the necessary contracts immediately. I’ll pay you, of course, whatever you want - we’ve done really well for a couple of rejects.”

 
“You’ll pay me for what, exactly?” she asked, cautious now. This was seriously starting to sound dangerous and a little illegal maybe.

  “No, no. Not that. Got a bit ahead of myself there. What I'm asking, Serena,” he got down on one knee next to her, took her hands in his and smiled that internationally heart-shattering smile at her before he asked, “Will you do me the eternal honor of being my fake girlfriend?”

  She nearly slid off her own chair from shock. Her mind had hit a complete blank. It seemed she had been robbed of her voice, her common sense, and her free will, all at once. “Wh-why?” she stammered, a million thoughts rushing through her head, but she stopped at the protests of the two loudest ones. “Why me? And why do you need a fake girlfriend?”

  He remained down on one knee, his strong and callused hands in hers. “Told you why already. Told you why I need this. We need something to take some of the heat off the band. The other guys, they don't see it yet. Some because they're not capable right now, and others 'cause they don't want to. I need them to at least try to fucking focus. This will be the perfect distraction for the paparazzi. I've never come right out and admitted I was in a relationship. The press will eat that shit up. We'll create the narrative, and people will believe it. It'll give the guys a break from all the attention, and I'll have a totally hot girlfriend for a couple of months.”

  “So just to be clear, you’re asking me to lie to the world to give your band a break from the me?”

  “Not my band, my brothers… and yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I’m asking. There’ll be lots of perks, though. I’ll personally make sure that you get introductions to whomever you choose, I’ll pay for design school. Whatever else you want.”

  He was still on one knee, and it was really starting to feel bizarre to her now, looking down at him like that.

  As if he could read her mind, his voice was quieter now as he looked up at her, his piercing green eyes bright and burning a hole into her soul. “Come on, what do you say? I've never gone down on my knee for a woman before. Never fucking figured I'd have to beg once I did.”