12. Keke

Chapter 12

Keke

A s soon as my hand leaves his, Luke pulls out his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as he calls up Whitney. I lean a hip against the counter, trying to organize my thoughts. This is a crazy plan and I know it, but despite my initial protests, I think it just might work. Every PR bone in my body screams, “Stop!” but this is a simple solution, and simple solutions are usually the best ones.

I know fake dating my client is a huge risk. My entire career, my relationship with my brother are both on the line. If I screw this up, I’m out of options. I’ll have to move in with my aunt on the West Coast and find a new career.

But fake dating my client can also be a high risk-high reward. If we play this right, he’ll come out looking like a golden boy instead of a playboy, and I’ll have a secure position on Whitney’s team. We’ll both get what we want, and that is well worth the risk.

I hope.

Whitney picks up and Luke puts her on speakerphone. “Luke, I assume you're calling about Keke. Regardless of your complaints, she's still your nanny. Deal with it.”

“No complaints on my end,” he says, smirking at me. “Actually, Whitney, I’ve got something I'd like to run by you, and for the record, it's about Keke.”

There’s a beat of silence, and I can picture Whitney raising an eyebrow, taking in what he just said. She’s probably already suspicious. “Tell me you did not sleep with her.”

Okay, she’s more than suspicious. My stomach sinks.

“No.” He takes a deep breath, looking at me as he speaks. “Hear me out. We let the world think Keke and I are a couple. Fake dating if you will.”

“And what exactly do you hope to accomplish with that?” she asks suspiciously.

“Redemption.”

“How so?”

“People think I'm a playboy hockey player, a bad boy who can't stay out of trouble. But a real girlfriend? That's a game changer. Keke is stable, smart, hot, funny… all the things a man could ever want. They'll think I'm in a serious relationship with someone who is actually respectable. Not a dancer, or a cheerleader?—”

“Or a flock of strippers?” Whitney cuts in flatly. “What is a group of strippers called, anyway? I’m sure you know the proper term.”

“There were only three, and I did not date them at the same time,” he says defensively.

“Right, so Keke is Mother Teresa, and you’re the Devil. She’s supposed to redeem you?”

I fight back a laugh. The idea that I could be the one to redeem someone's reputation was just absurd. This is such a bad idea.

“Her reputation will polish mine. Keke said politicians do it all the time.”

I could be very convincing. Bad idea or not, I knew I could make it work, and it would give me the most control possible over the situation. I sigh. I was really doing this. “It will score us a ton of earned media, Whitney.”

Whitney wasn’t sold. “Yes, it will but if that goes south, you could tank my reputation alongside your own. Luke, you think you can just use a woman to repair your reputation and all will be forgiven?”

“Sort of,” he admits. “People go crazy for a love story. And this isn't just about me, it's about her, too. She gets to control me in a controlled environment. No surprises. It'll be a stable narrative that people will want to believe.”

I shift beside him, trying to keep my poker face intact. “This isn't just his idea, Whitney. It's mine too. I think it's the right call. He requires a lot of habit changing if we’re going to fix this. No one will think twice about a girlfriend being around him, but if I'm stalking him from the shadows all the time, it's going to get weird fast.”

Whitney laughs softly. “Alright, you two. I'll admit this is interesting. Keke is capable and level-headed enough to keep you in check, which is more than most could handle. I'll consider it, but we'll be laying down some ground rules.”

“Thank you, Whitney. I knew you'd see the potential in this.”

She sighs then adds, “This isn't high school theater. Make it convincing or don't bother doing it at all.”

The line goes dead. I look up at Luke who smiles as if he doesn’t know what to say. I don’t think either of us expected Whitney to even consider the idea but as long as she approves, we will officially be a fake couple by tomorrow. By the sound of things, it seems like she’s already on board, otherwise she would have shot it down immediately.

“So, it sounds like the big boss approves,” he teases. “You still in?”

“I suppose I don't have much of a choice anymore, do I?” I tease right back.

He grins playfully. “My girlfriend always has a choice.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm only doing this if Whitney agrees to it, not because of your puppy dog eyes and your charm.”

“Hey, don't underestimate the power of these eyes. They've gotten me out of plenty of rough spots.”

I can’t hide my smile. He can be such a cute smart ass. There’s a new kind of tension between us, humming just beneath the surface. For the first time in a very long time, I feel vulnerable but in a good way. Like if I fall, I know he'll catch me.

It’s been so long since I’ve opened up to anyone, it feels strange to be doing it.

He steps closer. “I’m not taking this lightly, Keke. I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think it could work. And if it does work, I owe you forever.”

I search his eyes for a hint of a joke or a smile, but there’s nothing there but earnestness. “You don't owe me anything. This is my job, Luke. If this is what it takes, then this is what I do. Just…” We’re having a good moment and I don’t want to wreck it, but I have to say what’s on my mind because we need to lay down some rules. “Don't make a fool out of me, alright?”

He reaches out, laying his hand on my shoulder. His thumb brushes my collarbone, lingering there for a second too long. I feel a spark I hadn't expected. Staring deep into my eyes, he murmurs, “I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Good, because if you hook up with some other girl, I'll make sure the whole world knows about it. If we are to rehab your reputation, you can't fake cheat on me or get yourself in trouble in a way that would contradict the relationship. I don't even want you dancing with someone else.”

I like the feel of his hand on my shoulder a little too much, and realize I want more of his touch, but whatever this is, I have to shut it down right now. I step away from his reach, his hand falling to his side.

“So you’re saying no trips to the strip club?”

“Luke!”

“Gotta see my ex-girlfriends somehow.”

I shoot him a dangerous glare.

He grins. “Just kidding. Consider me warned. I'm not going after anybody else, not in any capacity.”

I look at him, noticing the way the light from the kitchen plays on the planes of his sharp cheekbones and day-old scruff. Damn, I can’t help but notice how handsome he is.

Shut that shit down, woman.

“So,” I say, turning away from him, “We should come up with a story of how we met.” I change the topic of where my mind was heading. “To do this right, we have to make sure our facts line up. Our first date, how long we've been together, that sort of stuff.”

“You're right. We need to be careful with the details, stay on top of them. If anyone catches us in a lie, this whole thing will fall apart.”

“Exactly. So let's get to work.” We talk for another hour, hashing over the details until my head is spinning. Once we both feel pretty solid on everything, we decide it’s time for bed. The look he gives me as we part ways to our separate rooms is too tempting.

How the hell am I going to do this for an undetermined amount of months?

Come morning, Whitney's words still echo in my head. Keke is capable and level-headed enough to keep you in check . I’m grateful to know that’s how she feels already. People believe what they want to believe. That was ninety percent of public relations. At our meeting earlier this morning, she had given her approval a lot easier than I had expected.

I sit in my car outside of my brother's office building, my stomach twisting itself into knots. I know his approval will not come so easily.

Michael was well aware that my job was stressful but explaining that I had signed up for a fake relationship with Luke—the guy he'd heard nothing but disaster stories about—was going to be a hell of a sell. He'd either laugh me out of the room or worse, he would judge me.

What are you thinking, Keke? I could practically hear him now. It would not be the first time he had asked me that kind of a question with that kind of tone.

Taking a deep breath, I get out of the car and try to shake off the feeling of dread. His office building looms ahead, the midday sun glaring behind it, bright enough to make me squint as I climb the steps.

I go straight up to his floor, my heart beating faster with every step. The receptionist gives me a smile and waves me in, but just as I reach for the handle, I hear voices. I turn to her. “Is he in a meeting?”

“Well, he is, but I thought you were supposed to be in there with them.”

That makes no sense. But then I hear it. Luke and Michael’s laughter rumbles through the door, like they’re old friends. What the hell is going on?

I barge in before I can second-guess myself. They’re on the balcony, both leaning back in their chairs, cigars in hand, laughing like they don’t have a care in the world, the smoke drifting lazily around them.

“Seriously?” I say louder than I intended.

“Keke,” my brother calls out, waving me over to them with a smile. “Didn't expect you so soon. Luke has been telling me about this new adventure you two have cooked up.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

Luke just shrugs, completely unfazed. “Hey, I figured you had enough on your plate already. Thought I'd get the conversation started.”

“Get the conversation started.” I echo. “You think you're doing me a favor, I gather.”

A twinge of concern washes over him. “Well, yeah.”

“Michael is my brother. It's my place to talk to him about things like this.”

Michael chuckles, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air as he puts his arm around Luke's shoulder. “Keke, relax. Luke is just looking out for you. I think it’s a solid plan. PR is all smoke and mirrors, anyway.”

I force another smile as my jaw clenches. “I guess Luke just wanted to take on a few extra tasks, seeing as he's been so helpful already.”

My fake boyfriend grins then lifts his cigar in a mock toast. “Yes, this whole thing may be fake, but you're still my fake girlfriend . And my girlfriend shouldn’t have to handle everything herself. I'm a team-player, remember?”

Oblivious, Michael says, “Honestly, Keke, you work too hard as it is. Let him pick up the slack where he can.”

How can he even say that to me, knowing what he knows? But before I can respond, my brother gestures to another chair on the balcony, a clear invitation for me to join their little party. I ignore it.

“So tell me, how is this going to play out for the two of you, exactly?”

Luke, ever the actor, takes a long drag from his cigar before answering. “It's simple. We go out together, we do the whole happy couple routine, give fans a love story they can root for. Keke keeps me from creating any scandals, proving herself to Whitney, and I get to show everyone that I'm a changed man for the season.” He leans back, giving my brother a confident, easy smile. “Everyone wins.”

My brother looks genuinely impressed, nodding along. “It's not a bad idea. Plus, if you stick with good behavior for a while, Luke, you might make a real friend or two with team management. They’re always looking to promote from within. You could go from player to Coach, or beyond.”

“I have plenty of friends. What I need is good PR, and that's what Keke is going to provide.” I feel a flush of pride hearing that.

Luke thinks I’m hot enough to be on his arm. A guy like him can get any girl he wants and he’s been doing exactly that. The idea that he’s happy to have me on his arm is a bit of an ego stroke. Embarrassing to admit, but validating all the same.

I clear my throat, cutting into their little bonding session. “So I guess we're all on board now, huh? We just have to remember this isn't some joke, our reputations are at stake here—yours, mine, and Whitney’s. We all have a lot riding on this.”

Luke turns to me, respect and sincerity in his eyes. “Don't worry, I've got this. We've got this.”

The words settle in the air between us, and for a moment, I feel something crackle, something akin to electricity. My heart skips a beat but I quickly brush it off, reminding myself that this is nothing more than a job.

But as I watch him, so confident and sure of himself, the unease in me shifts. This self-centered, high-maintenance hockey star who can’t stay out of trouble to save his life is somehow winning my brother over. Since when does Luke act like this? Helpful, without any expectation of something in return. It’s unsettling. He has to be after something.

“Guess we're all set then.” I give them both a quick, forced smile. “Luke, if you're done here, we should go over the details so we're on the same page. I've thought of some more questions and scenarios. I want to make sure we have everything covered.”

He nods, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. “Great meeting you, Michael. Thanks for hearing us out.”

Michael chuckles dismissively, raising his cigar in a salute. “Take care of my sister, alright? And Keke, lighten up a bit. Luke's got a good head on his shoulders. You should listen to his ideas more often.”

My fake boyfriend smirks as we walk back inside, and I find myself irritated by that parting shot. Hear him out? Please. Michael has no idea what I’ve been dealing with. Worse, I don’t know how to take Luke’s kind of help. We need to develop and enforce more boundaries.

I keep my gaze forward, my heels tapping in a steady rhythm down the hallway to the elevator. Luke keeps pace beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine every few steps. There’s definite static between us, reminding me of the way the air feels right before a thunderstorm. He looks relieved, as if he just won the big game. The familiarity of him at my side bothers me.

He is too close, too comfortable. Good fences make good neighbors.

We reach the elevator, and I press the button with more force than necessary, willing the car to show up quickly. Once inside, his infuriatingly trademark casual smirk is on full display.

“Is it so terrible that I wanted to make things a little easier for you?”

“Easier for me? Luke, you went behind my back. I should have been the one to explain the situation to Michael, not you.”

He appears completely unbothered by my anger which annoys me even more. “I get that, but seriously, come on. You've been running yourself ragged trying to keep everything under control. I thought I would take something off your plate. That's all.”

“I didn’t ask you to take anything off my plate?—”

“Keke, you have so much on your plate that if you ate it all, you’d choke.”

I blink up at him, unsure what to say to that, fighting off a laugh.

“I get it. I stepped on your toes. It won’t happen again, okay? Look, I didn't mean anything by it,” he says gently. Different from an apology, but at least he sounds sincere.

“Why didn't you ask me first?”

“I knew you'd say no.”

The elevator dings, my frustration bubbling up again as we step outside. “I don't need you to help me, Luke. This is my job, managing things, managing you. I don't need extra favors.”

“It’s okay to need help sometimes, Keke.”

The quiet intensity of his words throw me off and I look away, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. Who is this person? Definitely not the same Luke I met just days ago.

“Just stick to the plan, okay? No more extras. Agreed?”

His lips tighten. “Fine, strictly business, no extras.” But then comes his usual jovial tone. “I guess I'll have to figure out another way to be a perfect boyfriend for you.”

“Just so we're clear, Luke, you are not charming your way through this. The last thing we need is for anyone who knows what’s going on to think you're actually getting attached.”

“You think I'm going to screw this up, don’t you?”

“I think you're used to getting your own way without having to try too hard. And this is not about easy wins, Luke. It's about control, predictability, managing your impulses. This is not a game. Our careers are on the line.”

“I'm with you on this Keke, whether you think so or not.”

I look away. I can’t stare at those puppy dog eyes for too long before losing myself in them. “Good. Glad we're on the same page.”

We start walking again, the silence between us heavy with words unsaid. I keep my eyes forward, my mind racing around what I’m feeling.

No, no, no, no. Don’t you dare allow yourself to develop feelings for him!

“So, where do we start with this little project of ours?” he asks. “Do we go public right away, or do we build up the suspense?”

I release the breath that had caught in my throat, grateful for the change of topic. “I think we should ease into it. A few low-key sightings, maybe a couple of public appearances where we look like we're getting close. We don't want people to think that this is fake by throwing it in their faces right away. You have to take this seriously.”

“Don't worry, Keke, I am. But we still need to have fun. Don’t underestimate just how fun I can be.”

I roll my eyes, fighting back a smile. “Don't be too fun, or people might think this is real.” I don’t know who I mean by people. The paparazzi, the public, or me.

“Don't worry, I know where the line is. I won't cross it.”

Why am I disappointed to hear that?