Page 84 of Fake it For Good
“Are you guys an actual couple?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. It’s not something we’ve talked about.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time together,” he said. “You’re having sex. She’s staying the night. In the real world, we call this dating. You’re seeing each other.”
“Can we be seeing each other if I’m paying her to pretend to be my fiancée?” I asked.
“I don’t think that’s the right question,” he said.
“What is the right question?”
“Are you going to continue seeing her once the contract is over?” he asked.
That was the million-dollar question. One I didn’t get to answer.
“You can’t just barge in there!” I heard Dana shout a moment before my office door was thrown open.
“You should wear garlic around your neck,” Denton sneered at Kelly. “Or is it a silver bullet? Holy water? What does it take to repel the devil?”
“Shut up, asshole,” Kelly glared. “Get out. I need to speak with my husband.”
“I think you’ve got the wrong office,” Denton said with a laugh. “I know I’m not married to you. And Cane isn’t married to you. Your husband isn’t here.”
“Stop talking, you moron,” Kelly said again before looking at me. “Tell him to leave. We need to talk.”
I could argue with her and this whole thing would be made a lot worse. Or I could just let her say her piece and be done with it.
“I’m fine,” I said to Denton.
“Should I call animal control?” Denton asked. “SWAT?”
“Get out!” Kelly stomped her foot and pointed toward the door. Denton hissed at her as he walked by her. He left the door open, which of course pissed Kelly off. She kicked the door shut hard enough to shake the wall. I couldn’t even get mad. I was indifferent when it came to her. I was familiar with her tantrums. She loved to huff and puff and slam doors.
“This is such a nice surprise,” I said dryly. “I so look forward to these little visits.”
She shot me a dirty look before sitting down in the chair across from my desk. I was surprised she didn’t sit on the couch again. She seemed to think she owned the joint. I watched her, waiting for her to start her latest diatribe about whatever it was that offended her.
“I have a proposal,” she started.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she thought I would want to hear. “Write it up and send it over. I can already tell you the answer is no, but if you want to waste your time, go for it.”
“Stop acting like such a jerk,” she scolded. “I know that’s not who you are.”
“And you would be wrong,” I said. “It’s exactly who I am, and you get to take credit for that.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you bring out the jerk in me,” I said with a shrug. “I look at you, and I feel like being an asshole—just to you.”
“When did you become so bitter?” she asked.
“About the time I met you. It was a slow burn.”
“You really need to get over all that,” she said. “We were young, and we made mistakes. I think we’ve both grown and evolved. We’re different people now.”
“I’m different but I think you’re still the same social climbing bitch that used me to get rich without lifting a finger.”
She smiled and waggled her finger at me. “You’re pretty spunky. I like it. You were always so soft before. You made it too easy to push you around. I think you should be thanking me for bucking you up.”
