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Tristan’s previous easygoing nature transforms as he dominates the entire room. I half expect Dominik to resist, maybe fight back a little considering how upset he looks, but he takes a few steps back and sinks into his chair.
“He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me. It might be better to ask someone else.”
“No, Zoe…that’s not what’s happening here. He’s just embarrassed. You’re the right girl for this job,” Tristan says, tapping the sofa cushion beside him.
Casting a hesitant glance toward Dom, I notice that his eyes are downcast and his shoulders are slouched, as if he’s been defeated. Tristan carefully grasps my elbow and pulls me down on the sofa next to him.
“I’ll cut right to the chase. Some recent rumors have come to light regarding Dominik’s”—Tristan struggles to find the right words—“night time activities. And considering he’s a pro hockey player and in the spotlight, these rumors are really bad for his career. We need to squash them immediately.”
“What kinds of things?”
The sensation of several sets of eyes on me makes my skin burn, but I divert my focus to Tristan.
“He’s been having a bit too much reckless fun with his dick lately.”
“Fuck my life,” Dominik groans, dropping his head to his hands.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.
Tristan loosens his burgundy tie, his knees grazing mine as he shifts a little closer.
“What? She’s going to find out the second she goes digging, and she will. She’s not stupid.”
“Don’t go digging.” Dom looks up as if just realizing I have access to the internet. He’s turning red. Now I’m definitely going to go digging.
“Sure.”
He holds my gaze. Tired, gold and blue eyes pull me in, causing a wave of butterflies to take flight in the pit of my stomach.
“Really?”
“No.”
Shifting my attention back to Tristan, a smile unconsciously forms on my face as he playfully winks at me, igniting a new kind of excitement within me.
“Try not to believe everything you read. But the threads aren’t good. Essentially, we need to find a distraction that proves the rumors are false or that Dom has had a change of heart.”
“Change of heart.”
“Yeah, we need to make it appear like he’s in a committed relationship.”
Fat chance of that happening. The man hasn’t had a change of heart since he was a teenager. I’m not even sure he believes in dating or knows what the word commitment means.
“And he can’t find a real girlfriend?” I ask.
Tristan reaches for his whiskey, sighing. “Not this quickly. He needs to look stable, level-headed, and fully committed. The complete opposite of how he’s been behaving. We need to make everyone believe he has fallen in love.”
I burst out laughing.
That dreaded word we’re all allergic to in this room.
“I know,” Tristan utters.
Dominik’s cautious gaze is fixed on me. With his elbows pressed into his thighs and his muscular physique straining against his shirt, I find myself becoming distracted and quickly avert my gaze.
I don’t understand how Dominik fake-dating me could help.
Clearing my throat, I turn back toward Tristan. “And what does all of this have to do with me?”
