Page 19 of Faking It
“Is that so?” Robert asks, clearly more at ease than when we spoke earlier this evening.
“It is,” Harlow says.
“I feel like an outsider here,” I joke, hating being in the dark.
“It’s nothing that concerns you,” Harlow says with a reassuring nod to Robert that makes me all the more curious, but allows me to take the lead here.
You’re run was good, Harlow . . . now it’s time to end it.
“What does concern me though is the appearance of impropriety, Robert and that’s the last thing I want just before a huge promotional launch for the platform. Harlow and I have talked here,” I say, “and decided that it’s best if I use someone else for the spokesperson position.”
Harlow’s body stiffens beside me and her fingers dig into my side.
How does it feel to be blindsided?
“Zane—”
“Hold on sweetheart.” I press a chaste kiss to her lips to shut her up and hate that I notice how soft they are. “It’s important for me to know that Robert knows we weren’t trying to pull one over on him. The beginning of months of a relationship are important—or so I’ve heard—and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize what we have by bringing work into the mix. Nor would I want there to be the appearance of impropriety to any of our sponsors. With that in mind, I had my lawyer prepare a new contract for Simone to take the job and with your blessing, mate, I’ll let her know tonight.”
Harlow tenses again. There’s nothing she can say, really. Argue with me and Robert will know she lied to begin with or stand by silently and smile so it appears she’s in agreement and save face.
She may be gutsy but something tells me she’s not going to call me on this.
Robert purses his lips and looks at the both of us above the rim of his drink as he takes a sip. Someone laughs to the left of us. I fleetingly catch the curious eye of Simone over his shoulder but know I can’t do anything to answer the question in her eyes.
“This is where I have to disagree with you, Zane,” Robert says. Oh. Shit. “I think having a real life couple, the CEO and his girlfriend no less, would come across as way more genuine than a pretty face and a talking head at the press junkets.”
Harlow stands taller and laughs as she reaches out and touches Robert’s arm again. “I’m hoping I shouldn’t take offense to that, Robert.”
“
My dear, Harlow . . . no one would ever deny how gorgeous you are. Forgive me if I made you feel otherwise.” Robert meets my eyes. “Experience sells well so long as it’s believable.” He lifts an eyebrow in challenge to me and I can’t tell if it’s sincere or if he knows I’m lying.
Either way, I’m fucked.
And not the good kind of fucked either.
“Everyone says the honeymoon phase of a relationship is the most important. I wouldn’t want to risk ours since—”
“Oh Zane, don’t be silly.” Harlow lays it on thick and leans up to peck a kiss on my cheek. Anger has me wanting to jerk away from her, my impending demise—and my cock—has me noticing way too much about her: her perfume, the way her hair tickles my cheek, the feel of her tits rubbing against my chest. “I’m more than certain what we have between us is more than enough to survive a little promotion. Working together will make us stronger, don’t you think?”
What is happening right now? And how can I kick her ass to the curb and get Simone back? Compliant, agreeable Simone.
And yet I’m the one who asked Harlow to come tonight. I’m the one who started all of this.
“My Sylvie always used to say that a little conflict only makes everything else that much sweeter,” says Robert.
“And we do love the sweet parts, don’t we Zane?” Harlow says with a bat of her lashes as her hand slides down to my ass and pats it for emphasis.
“We do,” I say through a cough, needing a reason to step away from Harlow and her way too warm body.
“Good onya, then,” Robert says with a huge grin, still not over his constant need to try and master my accent. “Isn’t that how you say it, mate?”
“It is, aye.” I’m distracted. I know I sound it but fuck if I can’t keep thinking about other ways to get out of this.
Zane Phillips is not one to be cornered, cajoled, or fucking forced to do anything . . . ever. I can’t even concentrate on what the two of them are saying, planning, fucking and scheming over because with every second that passes, my anger escalates to the next level.
Will it be a hardship working with Harlow? Hell, no.
