Jessa James - Fake Fiancé

“Marrying the client wasn’t exactly the way I understood your plan was supposed to work,” he said. “It will simplify the billing though.”

“No one will expect us to marry except for the public,” I countered. “We don’t care what happens after the three months are up.”

“You’re comfortable playing the fiancée?”

“Sure,” I told him. I often lied to my boss. It was efficient, tidy and I had no interest in going back and forth about it, especially with Blake as my fiancé. He wasn’t some random guy in trouble with his boss. He had a long trail of women’s panties behind him and damn it all, scorching hot looks.

Frank bought the lie, or at least had the good graces to pretend he did. And why not? No matter how I set it up I’d be putting one-hundred percent of my time into this one account until the job was finished. That’s how I worked. It was the only way I could do things—focused, either all-in or all-out. Type-A all the way, and I wasn’t going to change the way I worked best for anyone. Frank knew that, so he stayed quiet.

“We’re having dinner together tonight,” I told him, sharing the first part of the plan. “We need to be seen out a few times, then make the announcement this week.”

“Before the next game.”

“It should be on the news when the potential ad agencies are looking at their options.”

He nodded. “Good. It’s in your hands. Don’t fuck it up.”

I didn’t intend to, but didn’t appreciate his tone with me. I’d realized long ago it was the name of the game. No one ever said it would be easy being successful as a woman in this business.

I tried to balance the girlfriend look with style as I got ready and when Blake showed up his eyes showed he was pleased with my choice.

“You’ve cleaned up well yourself,” I teased and he laughed. At least he had a sense of humor.

The restaurant was nice and, as I’d hoped, we were seen by a lot of the right people. I noticed a social columnist, although I couldn’t be sure he’d know who Blake was or thought he was newsworthy, but he’d remember seeing us. A sportswriter for the Chronicle had been at the bar when we came in and he gave us a second look, nudging the guy he sat next to with his elbow, and pointing, probably asking who I was. We were already seeing reactions of this plan, and that was perfect.

We could use all of that we could get.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.