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“Public appearances—a simple façade of companionship. No intimacy, no feelings, and no complications.” I study her face.
“And what do I get out of this?” Layla drew nearer.
In the soft light of the restaurant, her pupils dilate as she stares at me. Her red lips part as she waits for an answer, and the light reflects off her radiant skin.
“The pleasure of my company,” I smirk.
“Oh, you don’t say? I think I’ll pass.”
The waiter, a young man with neck tattoos hidden by his upturned collar, appears. He holds a notepad and a pencil.
“We’ll have bacon and eggs,” I say to the waiter.
He disappears just as fast as he appears.
“Bacon?” Layla crosses her arms, her face tightened. “What if I was a vegetarian?”
“You’re not a vegetarian.”
“You don’t know that.” She huffed.
“I’ve seen you eat meat. What? You’re not used to a man ordering for you?” I grip the arm of the chair as I settle in deeper.
I hope she takes the bait and tells me if she has or doesn’t have a man. Despite myself, I wish for the latter.
“Yes, I’m not used to a man being cocky enough to think he can guess what I’d like to order.” She huffed again.
“So—” I cocked my head, “—you don’t want bacon and eggs?”
Layla tucks an errant lock behind her ear and looks away from me, clearly frustrated. “I mean, yes, I do. But that’s not the point!”
“So, what exactly is the point? I know you like bacon and eggs, and I ordered it. You’re the one turning it into a big deal.”
She takes a harsh breath and leans back into the chair as they bring our meals. I dig in right away, my stomach growling from hunger. I look up, and Layla watches me eat without lifting a finger to touch hers.
“You’re not going to eat that? If you want me to apologize for ordering for you, you will want a lot of apologies when we’re out together during this contract.”
“I haven’t accepted your terms yet.” She folded her arms.
“But you’re thinking about it.” I wag a finger toward her as I chew. “Aren’t you?”
“Why should I do this?”
“It’s simple, really.” I slap my palms together to clean them. “What’s the downside? You’re going to be paid well. You’ll get a taste of the high life and meet all the celebrities. I mean, I’m sure you don’t want to be a nanny forever, right?”
She blinks repeatedly as she wordlessly watches me. I can see she’s thinking about it—weighing the pros against the cons.
“Layla, I hope you’ll understand how important this contract is, to me and to Ruby.”
“I haven’t accepted yet.”
I fetch another contract copy from my pocket and set it at the center of the sheeted table.
The doorbell rings, and I glance over. In walks this mousy-looking guy wearing a black trench coat and beat-up boots. He's got a small camera bag hanging from his shoulder. No need for any mental gymnastics; he's our beat-up Toyota guy. He picks a table and pretends to check the menu, but I can tell he's keeping an eye on Layla and me.
Fucking paparazzi.
“What?” Layla looks toward the man as she follows my gaze.
