Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

DANIELA

I felt like I was going to puke as Morgan pulled up in front of Braden's house. And not just because it was absolutely disgusting that he had the kind of money required to buy a house – no, scratch that, a mansion – of this size just for himself.

No, I was sick to my stomach because it felt like what I was about to do was tantamount to spitting on my sister's grave. This man was the reason she was dead, and I was about to hash out the details of letting him pay me to pretend I was his girlfriend.

"Hey, you okay?" Morgan asked as she turned the car off.

I took a shaky breath, and for a split second, I debated telling her everything. But I couldn't, especially not with how close Malachi was with Braden. I knew they'd end up having words, and if that Vicki woman's threats were sincere, that would end up landing me in scalding hot water.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just nervous. This feels like I'm selling my soul," I sighed.

"You're doing this for Isaac," she reminded me. "And it's not like you have to sleep with him or anything. The worst thing that could happen is maybe having to kiss him when there are cameras around."

I nodded. "I know."

"I swear, he's a nice guy. A little bit of a man-whore maybe, but he's not an asshole."

I had to bite my lip to keep the sarcastic laugh that was bubbling in my throat from escaping. If she only knew what kind of person he really was. He might have had the rest of the world fooled, but I knew the truth.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with so I can go back to hating myself," I muttered.

We got out of the car, and I opened the door to the backseat to get Isaac's carrier and diaper bag out. Then Morgan led me to the front door and rang the bell.

I wasn't sure why I was expecting some dude in a tuxedo to answer the door and usher us in, but I definitely wasn't prepared for Braden to open the door, dressed in a tight t-shirt that showed off his toned biceps and a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places. And I also wasn't prepared for the smile on his face and the dark brown eyes that almost completely disarmed me and put me at ease.

Almost.

Get a grip, Dani, I scolded myself. He's a jackass. It doesn't matter how hot he is or how nice he seems. You know the truth.

"Hey, Braden," Morgan said as she gave him a one-armed hug.

"Hey, Morgan," he said with an awkward chuckle before looking at me. "And you're Dani. Mal and Morgan have told me a lot about you. It's really nice to meet you."

I wasn't sure whether I should be grateful or upset that he didn't remember me. On one hand, we'd barely said a handful of words to each other during that week in West Palm Beach. He'd spent time with my sister, not with me. But on the other hand, he'd had a fling with my sister for a whole week and had been dodging our phone calls for the better part of a year, and he seriously hadn't made the connection?

Deciding to be grateful – since, after all, I was about to talk to him about pretending to date him – I forced a smile. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you too."

"Well, come on in." He stepped to the side and let Morgan and I walk in, then shut the door behind us. "Sorry for the cloak and dagger routine. I appreciate you meeting me here instead of in a public place."

Right. Because no one could hear about the plan he was hatching to fool the world into thinking he was a nice guy.

"No problem," I mumbled. "I get it."

"B, is there somewhere quiet I can take the little man so he can sleep while you two talk?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. Um, any one of the upstairs bedrooms is fine."

"Perfect. Thanks," she said with a smile, then turned to me. "Just shoot me a text when you're done and I'll come back down."

I nodded. "Okay."

Morgan disappeared up the stairs, and I turned back to Braden, who gave me an uncomfortable smile. After a few seconds of painful silence, he finally spoke.

"Well, this is awkward," he chuckled.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. He had no idea how awkward it was. Because he had no idea who I was. The asshole had literally fucked so many women that he didn't remember their names or anything else about them. Like, say, who their sisters were.

"Come on. Let's head to the living room so we can talk," he said, leading me further into the house. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water, Gatorade?"

I snorted. "Gatorade? Really?"

"What? I'm an athlete," he teased.

"Coffee would actually be amazing," I sighed as I sank down onto a soft couch that made me feel like I was sitting on a cloud. "I'm pretty much a perpetually exhausted zombie these days."

"With a baby to take care of and a full class load, I can only imagine." He gave me a smile that almost looked…sympathetic? Was that right?

No, it couldn't have been right. Because he wasn't capable of sympathy. Any kindness he was showing me right now was just that: a show. Because he was trying to play a part with me, the same as he was with the media.

"I'll go throw a couple of cups in the Keurig. I'll be right back," he said, shooting me another smile before heading out of the room.

I heard the clinking of ceramic and the sound of running water that told me he was making coffee, and I took a deep breath to try to calm myself down as I looked around the room. It was nicely decorated – modern, but with a sort of art deco type of flair – but it didn't have any kind of personality to it. It looked more like he'd paid an interior designer to do it. An artificial dwelling to match an artificial personality.

"I lease the house."

"Ohmygod!" I yelped as I jumped halfway out of my seat.

"Sorry," he chuckled as he set a mug of coffee in front of me and took a seat next to me. "I didn't mean to scare you. That's why I don't have a whole lot of personal stuff here yet. I'm leasing. Since I'm a new player, I figured it was probably better to lease for a couple of years until I knew where I was going to settle down."

I managed a small smile. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Um, I forgot to ask how you like your coffee, so I made it with cream and sugar. I hope that's okay," he mumbled uncomfortably.

"Yeah, that's perfect," I said quickly as I picked up the mug and took a sip, letting the warm liquid calm my jittery nerves.

"So, I swear to God, I'm not an asshole," he sighed.

Right. Of course he wasn't. He just gave girls his publicist's phone number instead of his own because he didn't want to deal with them after he'd had his way with them.

"Why are we here, then?" I bit out before I could stop myself. "Sorry. I didn't?—"

"It's okay. It's a fair question. I, um...I don't know how much you pay attention to the news, but I got arrested a few weeks ago because I started a bar fight. It was a guy I'd known since high school, and he started talking shit about one of my best friends. She was assaulted by three football players in our high school, and the fuckers who hurt her started a bunch of rumors about her afterward to keep her quiet. Dude started talking about those rumors, and I just snapped. It was stupid – I knew that even at the time – but I'd had a shitty day already. I'd just found out my publicist got a call from my cousin on my old phone number, which I'd had forwarded to her at the beginning of the season so she could field interview requests, and she never bothered to pass on the message that my uncle died or give my cousin my new number."

Wait a second. Was he…was he serious? He and Amara had spent that week together a few weeks before training camp had started last year. If he'd given her his old phone number, then…

No. There was no way his publicist hadn't passed on that many calls and messages to him. One message, I could buy, as horrible as that was. And I actually did feel bad for him. No one deserved to miss a family member's funeral because someone hadn't bothered to pass on a message that they'd died. I couldn't even imagine having missed my parents' funeral or my sister's funeral over something like that.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I just lost my sister, and my parents died a little over a year ago, so I know a little bit about what that's like. Not exactly, but still."

"I heard. And I'm sorry for your loss. I can't even imagine dealing with everything you've had thrown at you in the past month. I hope you don't mind, but Mal and Morgan told me a little about your situation. That's why I wanted to meet with you. I figure if I have to pretend to date someone just so my damn publicist will let me support the charities I want to support, at least maybe I can help someone out who needs it at the same time."

"What do you mean, let you support the charities you want to support?" I asked, confused.

"I met with Vicki about a week ago, and she wants to try to improve my image a little in the press. Between my arrest and…well, the fact that I don't really do the relationship thing, I'm kind of the guy everyone loves to hate right now. She wanted me to pick a few charities to show my support for, and because of two of my friends, Kyler and Melissa, I really want to find some charities that help survivors of domestic abuse and sexual assault."

"Kyler? Kyler Strong? The one who made that documentary about sexual assault and dating violence in high schools?" I asked, shocked.

Morgan had gone to see an early screening of Kyler's documentary, Breaking My Silence: The Truth About Teenagers and Sexual Violence , because her cousin was in it. From what she'd told me, it packed a huge punch and deserved every single bit of the praise and accolades it was getting.

He smiled. "Yeah. She's the friend I started that fight over. Her boyfriend, Ian, is my best friend. Has been since he moved to the Kansas City area in our junior year of high school. Then he met Ky in our senior year, and I swear it was love at first sight for those two. She hated me because…well, I didn't start the rumors, but I was a dick and had no problem spreading them around. Ian set me straight even before they started going out, and I'm glad he did, because she's one of the best people I know. She's my sister from another mister."

"Morgan went to see an early screening of her documentary. Her cousin, Melissa, is in it."

"Wait a hot damn second. How the fuck didn't I know that Melissa Van Der Beek is Morgan's cousin?" he laughed.

I couldn't help chuckling, and I also couldn't help feeling like there was something off about this whole situation. I'd come here expecting to barely be able to tolerate being in the same room with Braden. I'd expected him to act all self-important and be an arrogant jackass, but he seemed so real and down-to-earth. I felt like I was dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

How could he be this warm, this friendly, this genuine right now, but have been such a dickwad to my sister? Was he really that good at hiding his true personality?

"Small world," I murmured absentmindedly.

"No shit," he agreed. "So, anyway…I guess that brings me to the reason we're here. When I told Vicki what kinds of charities I wanted to support, she said she was fine with it and she thought it could be good for my image, but that she wanted me to find someone to start bringing to public functions and maybe go on some dates with too. I sort of get where she's coming from, but when she volunteered herself for the job, I laughed in her face. Then she suggested calling some people she knows so she could find a random celebrity for me to start pretending to date, but I refused and told her I'd find someone on my own. If I'm doing this, I want it to be on my terms, not hers."

A lump rose in my throat and tears started to burn in my eyes. And for a split second, I debated just telling him exactly who I was. Because if he knew…well, he hadn't wanted anything to do with Isaac before, so why the hell would he want to support me so I could support Isaac now?

But I couldn't do that. Because if I'd had any other choice, any other way out, I wouldn't have even been here. I was here because I was at my wit's end, and I couldn't afford to take the chance that he'd feel differently about this if he knew the child upstairs with my best friend was his.

I just nodded, trying to swallow down my tears, but I wasn't entirely successful, and a few of them leaked out, along with a small sob. Grabbing my coffee, I took a sip to avoid having to say something, and Braden put his hand on my back, rubbing calming circles into it.

God, how the hell was his touch calming me down right now? How could I even think anything nice about him at all? He was a grade-A asshole, and I couldn't let myself forget that just because he was offering me a way out of the financial quicksand I was trapped in.

"I know this is a lot," he said quietly. "And I wish we were meeting under other circumstances and had time to really get to know each other. But if you're willing to help me out with doing some damage control in the press, then I'd really like to do whatever I can to help you with your expenses for school and your nephew. What's his name, by the way?"

"Isaac. Isaac Mateo. Filling out the information for his birth certificate was the last thing Amara did before she…she…"

A fresh round of tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried futilely to wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," I sniffled. "It's still…I was in the room. I was the one who noticed she wasn't breathing. And all I can think is if I'd just woken up a little sooner, maybe?—"

Oh, my God. Why the hell was I telling Braden Hicks , of all people, about the night my sister died?

He was the reason she was dead. No matter how nice he was being to me right now, no matter what he was about to do for me, I needed to remember that. And I also needed to remember that if he knew who I was, he would have been throwing me out on the street and siccing his lawyers on me instead of offering to help me.

"I'm so sorry, Dani," he said softly. "I…fuck, I suck with words, and I wish like hell that I knew what to say to you right now. What do you need? What can I do to help you?"

"Money," I said, letting out a watery chuckle. "Amara and I got a settlement when our parents died in a car accident last year, but the money's running out a lot faster than I thought it was going to. I just…I underestimated how expensive it is to care for a newborn, between the clothes that he's already growing out of and the formula and diapers and everything. And childcare. Some ladies from my parents' church offered to help out with him, but I've missed so much school because they've flaked. I actually had to bring him to school with me for this whole week because the woman who was supposed to watch him got sick. My professors were all super nice about it, but that can't keep happening."

"Okay. Done," he said quickly. "How's this? You start interviewing nannies, and when you find someone you like, call me and I'll set up the payment information for them. I know Mal said you're starting med school in the fall, so I'll pay for the nanny for this summer and through your first year of med school. I don't care what their rate is. What I care about is if they're a good fit with you and Isaac and if they can work with your class schedule. I'm going to give you my personal cell number, so your call will go directly to me. And I'll give you fifty grand to help with your living expenses and tuition too."

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline and my eyes went as wide as saucers as I turned to look at the man who was responsible for putting me in this predicament in the first place. If he was willing to do all of this for a woman and baby he didn't even know, then why hadn't he been willing to even take a phone call from the mother of his child? It just didn't make any sense.

But I also couldn't afford to look a gift horse in the mouth right now, so I just nodded.

"Yeah. That's…wow. You have no idea how much that'll help me," I sighed, then realized we hadn't discussed one very important detail. "How long is this supposed to last?"

"Honestly? I hadn't even thought about that," he mumbled uncomfortably. "But…say until the beginning of the season? And then we can talk about how to spin the press about us splitting up."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's fair. But I want to make something clear. This is just for show. Nothing happens in private. Nothing ."

"I get that. I do have to ask if you're willing to let me kiss you in front of the cameras, though. If this is going to work, we have to actually act like a couple when there are eyes on us."

"I figured," I sighed. "That's fine. When does this start?"

"I made a reservation for us at La Terrasse for next Friday night. They usually have a waiting list a mile long, but I know a guy," he said with a wink.

My eyes went wide. La Terrasse had opened here in Orlando last year, and after getting glowing reviews by a couple of well-known food critics, it was now one of the most famous restaurants in the country. On any given night, you were almost guaranteed to find at least one A-list celebrity dining there.

"You're…you're serious?" I stammered.

Braden chuckled. "Yeah. I am. I've been looking for an excuse to try it anyway, and this seemed like the perfect one."

"I guess. If you're sure," I mumbled.

He was already being beyond generous with our arrangement for some reason I couldn't figure out. It felt weird accepting things like meals at five-star restaurants on top of that.

"This might be just for show, but you are going to be pretending to date a pro football player. You might as well get used to being spoiled when we're together," he said with an adorably awkward smile.

Stop it, Dani , I scolded myself. Nothing about this man is even remotely adorable. He's a dick, remember?

But I couldn't help it. I smiled too.

Damn him for making me forget. Not just about what he'd done to my sister, but about how miserable my life was. Damn him for giving me something to look forward to and making me feel like I could breathe a little easier.

Why did it have to be him? Of all the people in the whole world, why was he the one who had to offer me a solution to my financial problems?

Braden took a deep breath. "So, listen, my lawyer's writing up a non-disclosure agreement and a contract for this arrangement, and I'm going to need you to sign them before we go out next week. I feel like a dick doing that, but Vicki's insisting on it so the press doesn't get wind of this."

"It's fine. I get it. Do you want me to come back here to sign it, or…"

"I think he's going to want to meet with us at his office. What's your class schedule like?"

"Um, I have Tuesday and Thursday mornings free until eleven. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are super busy until four."

"Let me call him and figure out when he can meet with us, and I'll text and let you know. Speaking of which, let me give you my number, and then you can text me so I have yours."

I pulled my phone out of my purse and started a contact profile for him, then handed it to him so he could type his number in. After he handed it back to me, I sent him a one- word text so he could save my number to his phone, then texted Morgan to let her know I was ready to go.

A minute later, she was coming down the stairs with Isaac's carrier – which had a blanket draped over it – and she hurried toward the front door. I stood up and walked over to her, opening my mouth to say something, but she put a finger to her lips.

"Everything okay?" Braden asked.

"Yep," Morgan said quietly. "Isaac was fussing pretty much the whole time you two were talking. I just got him back to sleep, so I don't want to wake him."

"Okay," he whispered. "I can meet him another time."

Then he turned to me, leaning in and brushing his lips against my cheek. It was just a whisper of a kiss, barely even there, but I still felt warmth spreading through my whole body. I couldn't explain it. I'd never had such an intense and visceral reaction to another person before, so why was I reacting like this to Braden fucking Hicks ?

But just as quickly, a wave of guilt and devastation crashed over me so hard that it was all I could do not to double over from the anguish.

"It was nice meeting you, Dani," he murmured. "I'll text as soon as I hear back from my lawyer."

I just nodded, unable to form a single word.

As we walked out the door, bile rose in my throat, and it took everything I had to swallow it down so I wouldn't puke in the middle of Braden Hicks's driveway. I felt like I'd just sold my soul to Satan.

I'm sorry, Mar, I prayed, hoping like hell that she could somehow hear me. I'm so sorry. But I don't have another choice. I'm doing this for Isaac.