18. Devon

Devon

I'm sitting in the boardroom against my will with arms crossed and a scowl firmly on my face when the door opens, and my mystery woman walks in, looking like a million bucks.

I can't stop my eyes from tracking her as she walks into the room, and I immediately smell her perfume—something floral. Based on what I know about her, I'd bet my money that it has something to do with roses.

Melissa and Percy are sitting on either side of me, and they immediately brighten up when she arrives. They stand and shake hands with her people, and Percy elbows me in the side, hard, as an indication that I should stand and shake hands, too.

When my fingers wrap around hers, it's like grabbing hot metal.

I ignore her gaze and sit down as quickly as possible.

"Ms. Burke," Melissa starts, but my mystery woman holds up her hand.

"Call me Lola."

The name sends a jolt through me. Lola. Lola Burke. Why does that name sound so familiar to me? Not only does it sound familiar, but it fits her. Of course, a woman like her would have a name like Lola.

"Lola," Melissa continues, smiling broadly. "We've asked you to meet with us today because we have a proposition for you and your team. As we discussed with some of the Harlot PR people," she nods to the person sitting next to Lola, "we think we have a very unique idea that, if we execute correctly, could be lucrative for all of us."

"Essentially," Percy continues, putting his hands together in a prayer position, then pointing them in Lola's direction, "we think the two of you should appear together in public to sell the narrative that you're both dating."

Lola is taking a sip of water as he says that, and she starts choking on it. The woman next to her pats her back, giving all of us nervous smiles.

"Why would anyone believe that?" Lola sounds shocked, and her face is far too red when she looks at me. I keep my arms crossed and meet her gaze steadily, trying to appear as the picture of innocence while she flounders, her cheeks flushed, her breaths coming fast. In fact, the way she looks right now reminds me of—

A hot flush creeps up my neck, and I pray nobody notices how I shift in my seat.

"Oh," Melissa says, her eyebrows shooting up with surprise. "We thought you would already be aware. Give me one second." Then, she turns, grabbing her tablet from her bag and tapping it a few times before lighting up the screen and sliding it across the table toward Lola.

If it's possible, Lola's face gets even redder when she sees what's pictured there, and I can't help it—I'm curious.

"What is it?" I ask, leaning forward in my chair. As I do, I catch a picture of me and Lola in the bar, leaning in close to one another. Lola is laughing, and I'm looking at her—well, I'm looking at her like she's the most beautiful woman in the room. Because she is.

"Shit," I mutter, my eyes flicking up to Lola's. Her PR person looks between the two of us, an eyebrow rising.

"Did something…happen between the two of you last night?" she asks.

"No," Lola coughs at the same as I growl, "That's none of your damn business."

Melissa forces out a laugh, reaching over and taking the tablet back.

"Of course, nothing happened," she says, waving her hand airily. "Devon was at practice extra early this morning. There's no way he was up late or at the bar much later than when this picture was taken. But the picture is the important part! This shows some serious chemistry between you two—and it's gone viral. People have figured out who you are, Lola, and broadly connected Devon to the new book you've been teasing. And this picture of Devon has moved mountains in increasing his public perception. According to our data, his score has already gone up several points."

We all stare at her for a moment, and she clears her throat.

"People like Devon more when he's seen with you," she explains. "It softens him up a little. Makes him seem human."

"Hey," I mutter. "I am human."

"Many of the fans are claiming Devon is the inspiration for your new book," Lola's PR person says, leaning toward her. We've already received hundreds of inquiries about pre-ordering, and for a book that hasn't even been announced yet."

"Or written," Lola mumbles nervously. I meet her eyes again, and just with that glance, I can tell too much about her—she's nervous about this meeting and writing her book. There's something that happened to her recently that's shaken her confidence. I can understand that feeling all too well.

"What are the specifics?" Lola's PR person asks.

"It's all here in this document," Melissa says, sliding a few papers across the table for Lola and her PR woman to look at. "We're proposing at least two outings per week. And Lola must come to all the games. For appearance's sake, we'll book her at the same hotel as the hockey team and reimburse her for any other travel expenses. Of course, we'll supply the tickets, which will be upgraded from your experience now. Do you have anything you'd like to propose? Of course, we can amend the document to ensure all parties are satisfied."

"Yes," Lola's PR woman says, "we should probably put something, a clause limiting any physical interaction."

"Penelope," Lola says, the word coming out through her teeth. Once again, Lola flushes red, and I enjoy how easily I can read her emotions through how her body reacts.

That was pretty easy when I had her on my couch, too.

I stifle the thought, wishing my traitorous brain would stop throwing that memory at me. The last thing I want is to be thinking about how Lola felt under my hand, how good it was when I—

"Oh, absolutely," Melissa agrees, breaking me out of my thoughts. I glance around the room, but it actually doesn't seem like any of them are focusing on me. "If you look at section 12b, you'll see we already have something to that effect. Just to limit liability."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Penelope says, putting on a pair of glasses and reading through the document. I keep glancing at Lola and around the room, waiting for the moment someone jumps out to proclaim this a prank.

There's no way actual professionals—the PR people in this room—and actual adults are proposing we lie about our relationship as if anyone would care.

A moment later, Penelope whispers something to Lola, and she nods.

"We want to add some clauses about promotion for my book," Lola says. "Specifically, that the relationship should end just before a book tour. I think that will gain me some sympathy from my readers without requiring Chambers to travel with me on tour."

I blink. Lola isn't shutting this down. Nobody is shutting this down.

"Okay!" Melissa says, clapping her hands once and sounding very pleased with herself. "So it's decided!"

"I'm sorry," I say, leaning forward and placing my fingertips on the table. "Nothing is decided. I don't know what the hell you guys are talking about."

"It's all in the contract, Devon," Percy says, somewhat out of the side of his mouth. "I'll send it to you later."

"No, I don't think you're understanding me. I'm not doing this. I'm not lying to everyone."

"Devon," Melissa says with a sigh, putting a hand on my arm. "This is very common in the industry. Celebrities enter into contractual relationships all the time."

Contractual relationship? When I look across the table at Lola, at how fucking gorgeous she looks sitting there, I don't want anything to do with a contractual relationship. I can't stomach the idea of a woman signing on the dotted line that she'll be with me because it's good for her career.

"Absolutely not," I say, shaking my head. I get to my feet, and my chair makes a loud sound as it scrapes out behind me. "No, thank you. Have a great day."