Page 36 of Faking It
She nods and smiles. Satisfied that all of the pricks watching know she’s with me, I make my way toward the bar. It takes a few moments before she reaches me, and I stand and press a chaste kiss to her lips.
That was for anyone who doubted that she was with me.
She stiffens when our lips touch but then seems to realize that this is the location of our event tonight, and any one of these people might be attending.
It takes a few moments to get our orders settled and once we do, she turns her attention on me.
“So?”
“So . . .what?”
“You said you needed to talk about tonight. Should I assume we do the same as last night? Talk. Flirt. Inform. Mingle.”
“Right.”
“Act like we’re madly in love.”
I snort and look away from her to where pro golf boy has moved on to the next Stepford wife.
“You confuse me,” she says, prompting me to look back at her. “You run a matchmaking company yet everything you say about it in private is a total contradiction.”
“That’s my prerogative. And I run a lot of businesses. This just happens to be my current focus.”
“And when it’s not your focus? What does that mean for the thousands of people who are signing up and who believe it’ll work because we say it will?”
“Not my problem.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say.”
“Perhaps, but it’s the way of the world. Things in this life only last so long. You enjoy them, take advantage of them while you can, and then you wash your hands of them and go your separate way.”
Her eyes narrow, the hazel in them darkening. “That’s what you really believe?”
I shrug. What I said had its merits but fuck if I’m going to let her play shrink to see how I feel about women and dating. I’m a thirty-three year old man. A busy one at that. I don’t have time for commitment. I don’t have time to devote to one person in the way I’d need to make a relationship work . . . and frankly, I don’t really want to.
Growing up with my mum and dad didn’t exactly paint the rosiest picture of what a good relationship should be. Hitting the bottle, all day, every day, just so you can stand your spouse taught me never to want one.
“Earth to Zane? Is that what you really believe?”
She pulls me from my thoughts and for a beat I stare at her and try to find my answer.
“My theory evolves daily,” I finally say.
“Don’t think about it. Just answer.” She leans her elbows on the table and levels me with a stare. “Do you believe in love, Zane?”
“Love is a bullshit emotion.”
Harlow angles her head and stares at me as if she’s trying to believe I just said that. I did. And it’s true.
“Don’t tell Robert that.”
“Didn’t plan on it.”
She takes a sip of her drink and then watches the ice cubes as she stirs the straws around in it. “I don’t get it.”
“Stop trying, it’ll make your life that much easier.” Too much talking. Way too much talking going on here.
“I don’t understand. You’re a wealthy man—”
