6. Hayden

SIX

HAYDEN

She's exactly how I want her.

Desperate.

Judging from the look in her eyes, Juliana will agree to anything I ask. What a shame she's here, stone-cold sober, furthering her nerdy agenda by tolerating my company, and not trapped in my penthouse apartment, sprawled between Egyptian cotton sheets or lounging in a two-piece beside my private rooftop pool. Because, ohh, that would that be so—

Wrong, my annoying, typically dormant, shard of integrity interjects. So, so, so wrong. Are you stupid? She's not your little play bunny. She's your best friend's sister. Off-fucking-limits. Do you want Jeremy Brooks to murder you?

I stifle an eye roll, thoroughly aware I'm conversing with myself. No...

Good. Then stick to the scheduled program.

Fine. No matter. I bet Juliana wouldn't be so eager right now if she knew of the trickery I've slipped past my tongue for the past half hour. Since entering this lounge, I wouldn't say I've lied, per se . That's quite a strong word. Rather, I've stretched the truth and followed...

Rule #3: A playboy practices selective honesty.

For one, I'm not under my father's wing. I'd rather carve my eyes out with a plastic spoon than spend any more time with the man than absolutely necessary. But I do have plans to make that false statement a—very temporary—reality. Show him I'm really turning my life around.

As for the rest of the nonsense and well-rehearsed business jargon, Kingston Entertainment actually is moving into the gaming industry. I know this not because of some trade secrets, but because I had the misfortunate pleasure of hearing my older brother, Elias, blab on and on about it to his date during our last family gathering. How he was the genius who thought of encroaching on the gaming sector, how he pitched the plan to the board, single-handedly swaying their opinions by ways of tactical and assertive negotiations, bla, bla, bla, blaaa, blaaaaaaaaaa....

Anyhoo.

Point proven. No lies here.

And thanks to the stub of a cigarette left between my fingers, I've managed to keep my nerves in check this far. It's not that I'm a bad truth-stretcher. Quite the contrary, seeing as that's all I did growing up, about where I was and where I wasn't, the type of people I hung around and didn't, that kind of stuff. But this? The conversation I'm intricately weaving under the scrutiny of a woman who knows me better than any other? That's pushing it, even for a pro like me.

So, it's time to rip the bandage clean off.

I look Juliana straight in the eye.

"I want you to be my fake girlfriend."

Tension the size of Mount Everest slinks off my shoulders. Whew, out with it. But despite my sudden courage, my stomach twists in a knot, awaiting what has to be an explosive reaction.

But... it doesn't come. In fact, no reaction marks her pretty face. Blinking slowly, Juliana stares at me blankly, as if she's watching paint dry after I wiped her memory, Men in Black style. There's just... nothing.

Did she hear me?

If I thought asking such an outlandish question was painful the first time, then I wholly underestimated the second. "Uhh... Jules? I, uh... want you to be my fake girlfriend." Just kill me already. I squirm on my barstool, thanking the universe no one's close enough to eavesdrop.

"Ju—"

"So, that's what you brought me here for? The reason you swindled your way into my DMs, impressed my best friend into choosing you for a blind date, reserved a table at the most exclusive steakhouse in New York, chased me down on the streets, and then paid for an eight-hundred-dollar dinner tab. Not win me over or make up for what you did." Her eyebrow lifts, only slightly, but enough to hit me where it hurts. "But to play a prank on me."

A prank?

I shoot to my feet the same moment she does. But instead of running off like at dinner, she cranes her head way back, then shoots me a look so scathing, my words fumble on their exit out my mouth. "I-I... Jules, I'm not playing a prank."

She keeps staring, infusing a little more venom.

"I'm not!" My palms fly up defensively. "I'm being serious."

"About me being your fake girlfriend? Okay, sure, Hayden. I believe you. You're right, that doesn't sound like the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say in our entire life."

Fuck, hearing it from her is even worse. What, did I fall and hit my head? Who says shit like that? No... No, I need this ... I need her to accept this insane proposition, or I'm royally screwed.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling the truth." She shakes her head. I force a strained laugh, swiping a nervous hand through my locks. "Things have been rough with my dad. I mean... worse than usual. He's threatening to pull my trust fund."

She scoffs. "Are you really so surprised by that? You're not exactly someone I'd call a model citizen or some golden child."

My thoughts instantly go to my brother, a wave of annoyance washing over me. "You'd really go there—"

"What was it, three months ago, you were making headlines? Half of New York knows what kind of parties you throw."

"Oh, so I should act like my brother, is that it? Lock myself in a corporate cage. Strive to be just like our father—"

"No. I'm not saying that. But maybe you could clean your act up a little, so you can leave me out of your BS..."

By now, we're at each other's throats, chests puffed outwards, hands waving with aggression, bickering like a couple of kindergarteners—or a married couple. Over the top of Juliana's dark hair, I spot the bartender inching in our direction, caution swirling in his eyes. Not wanting any trouble, I step back, switching up tactics.

"Do you want the feature or not?"

Her next insult fizzles out on a slow breath. She stays quiet for several seconds, then several more... Avoiding my gaze, she sits back on her barstool, nibbling her lower lip, as a war of mental turmoil rages on in that pretty head of hers.

That's right, dollface. Focus on the prize.

I take a seat myself and light another cigarette, this time purely for pleasure. Propping an ankle atop my knee, I draw in a breath and hold, the smoke warming my lungs. With a smirk, I exhale, my eyes never leaving her sight. Because there's something addicting about Juliana. About someone who's contemplating a deal with the Devil.

"You do, don't you?" I purr.

Her lip plops out from beneath her teeth, the movement rushing blood straight to my groin, before she meets my stare. "I-I..." Wetting her lips with a nervous flick of her tongue, her tiny fist clutches at her skirt fabric absentmindedly. "I..."

"Where else could you land that kind of exposure, hmm?" I stand, noting how her ankles interlock with a slight squirm. She swivels on her stool, staring straight ahead, at the wall lined with liquor she won't drink.

Sweet, innocent Juliana.

I step closer.

There's something else that's addicting. A unique type of hunger, present only when she's near...

I take another step, delighting when her shoulders stiffen in my presence.

... A hunger which silences that pesky, inner voice of reason, igniting in me one single desire...

To get under her skin.

Behind her, I trail a soft finger down her bare arm, eliciting a shiver. "Answer me, Jules."

Looking away, her breathing turns erratic. "I... I don't know," she manages to get out.

"You don't?" I brush her skin once more, this time slower, while tracing the strap of her dress. When she squeezes her thighs together in response, I muster up every ounce of resistance not to nudge them open, only so I can discover how wet she is between them. Banishing the thoughts, I refocus on the deal, my voice like gravel. "A trailer or a run-through of gameplay, in front of thousands, and all you have to do is act like you're mine, for a time."

You're already doing such a phenomenal job, I don't say.

When she remains quiet, I sweep a lock behind her ear, her soft skin soon touching my lips. "I promise I'll behave."

A breathless moan slips from her mouth, the sound forbidden as it is addictive. When she inches closer to the bar, the movement riding her skirt higher up her thighs, I clutch the backside of her chair in restraint.

"No one would believe us."

"And why do you think that?"

"I couldn't fake the..." She clears her throat, her voice a mere whisper. "The attraction."

I nearly laugh. "Really? But you're so responsive to me."

Her jaw drops slightly, but before she can conjure up some lie, I cup her jaw with one hand, my fingers threading through the hair on her nape. And then she's like putty. Shoulders drooping, thighs parting, I turn her head to face me, angling upwards, not a hint of protest on her tempting lips.

Juliana stares up at me, pupils blown wide, as they flicker from my left and right and to and from my mouth. When her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, I draw near. She hesitates for a moment, but with one brush of my thumb across her jaw, those eyelids flutter shut.

And she's all mine.

Closer... and closer... until my lips graze hers, ever-so lightly, like the stroke of a feather. I breathe in her scent, an alluring aroma of roses and cherry, as her breath thunders against my mouth, minty, erratic, and needy, before I—

I pull away.

For several heartbeats, she sits there, frozen in anticipation, eyes closed and lips parted softly. But when she finally does look, her eyebrows pinch. She blinks, as a wave of embarrassment turns her cheeks beat red. Snatching her legs together, she shimmies her dress back to the appropriate length, her head downcast as she fumbles for her words.

With a dark chuckle, I come up behind her, close to her ear once again, freezing her all the same.

"Why don't you think on it?"