Page 23 of Faking It
“Yes, you do.” His smile is his own warning to me. “Harlow’s gorgeous and intelligent. You’re handsome and successful. The two of you together embody the exact model of clientele we target: young urban professionals who don’t have time to waste in bars and wait for the one to come along. You’re too hungry in all aspects of life to sit around and wait. You’re go-getters. You’re proactive. You’re two people who met on the site and have found love. What better way to sell your own platform than to prove it works?”
He’s fucking brilliant, and I hate him for it. I can see the ad campaign. The graphics online. The ads in magazines. The allure of an attractive couple who have found a dream relationship. All up until the part about it being my face that’s on it.
“I’ve already set it up for you to join the promotional tour.”
“Jesus Christ, Robert.” I cough the words out as I stand from my desk and turn my back to look out the wall of glass where the City of Angels is busy at work. “I can’t just drop everything and—”
“Yes, actually you can.” When I turn to face him, I’m met stare for stare. No one said Robert Waze made his fortunes by being a pushover. “Your assistant told me your calendar is pretty clear and the few things that are there, I’m sure you can move them.”
“This isn’t my only company to take care of.”
“It is for the time being,” he asserts.
“But my job is to run the company, not be the face of it.”
“Not anymore.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and can hear the taunts from our monthly status conference call we had this morning.
“C’mon, Phillips. Nothing to report yet? I’m already turning a profit while you stand there with your dick in your hand waiting to bet on love while we’re cashing in on tech. ”
“Simmer down, Kostas. I like to take my time, nice and slow. Just how the sheilas like it.”
Robert’s voice brings me back to the present. “I’ve already lined up the big three for our kick off. They were more than onboard with the mention of your name.”
The Today Show. Good Morning USA. CBS This Morning.
Even I’m impressed with the line up that Robert brought to the table through his connections.
“I thought we were doing small events. Mixers. Conferences.” I try to act unimpressed.
“We are,” Robert says with a nod, “but with this new marketing angle, I was able to sell the launch as a public interest story. Wealthy, unattainable man is finally tamed by love.”
“Tamed? This is my dignity we’re talking about here.”
“All’s fair in love.” He winks and my hands fist. “This whole concept allowed me to line up more visibility. Women want hope. They see you, see that it’s possible to catch a man like you . . . and they buy it. When you make women swoon, they talk. They talk, we get clients. Clients means subs
criptions. Subscriptions means—”
“Money.”
“Exactly.” He nods. “And not only that, but we’ll make money by bringing people together—bringing love to the masses. Now, I’m sure we can use Harlow’s shoot from today, but I also want to set up another one with the two of you together.”
“Good. Great,” I say in a flat tone, unable to fake enthusiasm. “I’m being sarcastic in case you weren’t sure.”
He doesn’t seem to care. “You gave me creative control, Zane.”
“Yeah, mate, that was before you included me in part of your ad campaign,” I half joke, half gripe and wholly want to strangle myself for agreeing in the first place. “I’m not a model. I belong in the boardroom, not on the other end of a lens.”
“This is what I do. You need to trust me.”
Little does he know that I trust no one. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m not happy about this.”
“I’m aware of that.” Robert perches on the arm of the chair and folds his arms casually across his chest. “Here’s the thing though . . . I’m well aware that you don’t need my money, Zane. Your bank accounts are more than healthy. It’s my connections you need.”
“Agreed,” I say, curious where this is going.
