Page 18 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

The simple admission surprised me. I'd expected corporate double-speak, plausible deniability, the careful language lawyers used to avoid liability. Instead, he'd just confirmed what Tessa had uncovered.

"So, you're here to fix the problems your own people created?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice. "That's very noble. What's in it for you?"

Ethan's jaw clenched again. "A clear conscience. The knowledge that I'm not becoming my father."

"Your father?"

"Left when I was eighteen. I wasn’t even done with high school yet, cleaned out the bank accounts and disappeared with another woman. Left my mother with three jobs and me with a lot of anger." His voice was matter-of-fact, like he was recitingsomeone else's story. "Your grandfather was the first man who showed me that men could build things instead of destroying them. That they could stay instead of leaving. That integrity mattered more than self-interest."

I processed this information, filing it away. It explained the angry eighteen-year-old, but it didn't explain the corporate lawyer in an expensive suit working for predatory investors.

"If that's what Vovô taught you," I said carefully, "why are you working for people who do exactly what your father did? Take everything worth taking and leave people with nothing?"

The words hit him like a physical blow. I watched him absorb the impact, watched something crack in his carefully controlled expression.

"That's a fair question," he said finally. "And I don't have a good answer except that I've spent twenty years confusing success with integrity. I thought if I made enough money, helped enough clients, built a successful enough career, I'd prove I was different from him. But tonight, standing in that community meeting, listening to you translate my corporate speak..." He shook his head. "You were right. I'm just a better-dressed version of the same predatory behavior."

I wanted to stay angry. Anger was safer than whatever this complicated feeling was—this mix of old crush remnants, current suspicion, and unwanted sympathy.

"So what?" I kept my voice sharp. "You had an epiphany and now you want to make amends? That's great for your conscience, but it doesn't help me. I need actual solutions, not guilt-driven grand gestures that'll disappear when you go back to Seattle."

"I know." Ethan straightened, and I saw a glimpse of the successful attorney—the one who closed deals and won cases and didn't back down. "That's why I'm offering you a deal."

And there it was. The catch. I'd known it was coming.

"What kind of deal?" I kept my arms crossed, my posture defensive.

"I'll fix your legal issues. All of them. I'll untangle the property dispute, resolve the permit complications, and create protections to prevent future manipulation. I'll do it pro bono—no charges, no strings attached to the legal work itself."

"That's a lot of expensive lawyer hours for free. What's the catch?"

Ethan hesitated, and I saw something like regret flash across his face. "There is one condition."

Of course there was. There was always a condition.

"Let me guess," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I sell to your investment group at a 'fair' price, you get to look like the good guy who helped me, and everyone wins except me because I lose my family's legacy?"

"No." He said it firmly. "The exact opposite. I want to help you keep the bakery. But I need something from you that has nothing to do with real estate."

I waited, watching him struggle with whatever he was about to ask.

"The investment group expects me to be on this island for at least a week, maybe two, finalizing assessments and building relationships with business owners." He was choosing his words carefully now, lawyer-precise. "Richard Sterling and the island council already think I'm just another corporate vulture. If I'm going to be effective—if I'm going to help you and potentially other business owners who are being targeted—I need to change that perception."

"And how do I factor into your image rehabilitation?"

"I need people to see me as someone invested in the community. Someone who cares about Lopez Island's future, not just its real estate values." He took a breath. "I need them to see me as someone who belongs here."

I stared at him, my mind racing through the implications. "You want me to vouch for you? Tell people you're trustworthy? After you spent the evening pitching acquisitions to the community?"

"Not exactly." Ethan met my eyes, and I saw determination there. "I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"For a week, maybe two. Just while I'm on the island. We'd need to be seen together, look like we're... involved. Dating. People would assume we reconnected, that I came back and realized what I'd been missing, that I have personal reasons to care about Lopez Island beyond business."

I couldn't help it—I laughed. Actually laughed, the sound harsh and disbelieving in the quiet bakery. "You're insane."

"I'm strategic." He didn't smile. "Richard Sterling already suspects my motives. The island council is hostile. Business owners won't trust me. But if Maya Romano—beloved granddaughter of Manuel Romano, successful business owner, someone who clearly loves this community—if she's dating me? That changes the narrative. It makes me human instead of a threat."