She spread her hands and said, “We’ve all agreed a relationship won’t be convincing or compelling without a little harmless PDA.”
“Define PDA,” I snapped. I refused to meet Alex Chase’s eyes even though I could feel him watching me.
Asha said, “Nothing too scandalous, some hand-holding, kissing, canoodling, maybe an ass grab for the cameras as needed if interest starts to wane. The normal stuff.”
I knew Alex was grinning without looking at him. I didn’t need him thinking I was scared of kissing him. “Fine. Just let me know when it’s needed and I’ll tolerate Mr. Chase’s attentions.”
Rami raised his hand. “Can I make one suggestion here before we jump in too deep? Do a trial teaching session first before we make anything public. Do it tonight if we don’t want to waste time. But I’ve been around too long not to suggest caution here. If this goes perfectly to plan, we’re heroes and can laugh all the way to the bank, but in this social media age, the public is savvier than ever and will smell a publicity stunt if you two aren’t a good fit. Can she act convincingly? Can he be taught to play Lucas Steel? We all end up with egg on our faces if this goes wrong.”
He was right. I shouldn’t take this leap, obliterating the last shreds of my carefully crafted cocoon of privacy, until I was absolutely sure this would be executed to plan and not get out of control. I would end up a public laughingstock or a pariah if we made one misstep.
“Great suggestion,” I said quickly, despite getting pinched by Ophelia under the table. I didn’t voice my real concerns. “It isn’t worth doing this if Mr. Chase isn’t going to take direction well or if I don’t think he has a chance of pulling off Lucas Steel. My reputation is on the line.”
Alex looked betrayed. “Hey now, sweetheart, you can question many things, but my ability to take direction islegendary.” I wasn’t sure whether he intended for me to make that sexual or if my brain only had one setting around him. “And I think she’s right. She should audition for this to prove she’s as good as they say before we sign an agreement this massive.”
It was my turn to be mortally offended. “Oh, I’m as good as they say. And I’ve had bigger.”
Ophelia’s eyes flared and she set her pen down. Rami raised his hands, clearly feeling his point was validated.
I was mentally screaming. How did he get a rise out of me so easily? All maturity and composure seemed to flee my body in his presence.
We sat and glared at each other as our attorneys made a plan for the trial session. We would conduct it that evening for the sake of expediency, in a loft downtown that Rami apparently owned but rarely used.
As everyone gathered their things to leave, Chad asked, “Ophelia, are you going to let me take you to dinner to make up for being an ass?”
“No.” She didn’t bother to look at him.
Rami walloped him over the head with a stack of papers.
“Out of line, man. She’s trying to do her job and doesn’t need you harassing her.”
Ophelia looked up at him with mild amusement on her face, pausing to consider him as though he may have been more interesting than she originally assumed.
“Thank you, Rami. Although, I wouldn’t describe what just happened as me ‘trying’ to do my job.” The look on her face turned mischievous. “You may not take me to dinner, Brad. But youmayclean my floors this weekend. I just had to let my regular housecleaner go.”
I stole a glance at Alex, who was watching the exchange with fascination, but his eyes found mine as soon as I looked at him. I quickly looked away, pissed at myself all over again.
“It’s a date.” Chad sounded absolutely delighted to have been invited to clean Ophelia’s floors. I hoped he understood she was being literal and not using a euphemism.
I was almost out of the room when Alex called out cheerily, “See you this evening, Elena darling!”
I shot back over my shoulder, “Looking forward to it,MisterChase.”
Oh yeah, you really showed him, Elena.
7
Elena
Ihad technically been a sex worker for five years, but I had never felt more like a prostitute than I did walking up to the building where Rami’s spare loft was.
It felt like I was doing something illicit. And it turned me on.
I texted Rami from the car to let him know I was close, so he was already waiting in the lobby and opened the front door to the building for me as I approached. It was a historic building with high painted ceilings supported by massive columns and a shiny marble floor.
Okay, so if I was a prostitute, I was definitely a high-end one, I mused as we made our way to the bank of elevators. I had no problem with it if someone considered what I did prostitution. I didn’t think it really qualified, but that wasn’t because I was uncomfortable with the idea. In my mind, it was like calling a pastry chef a cook. It wasn’t inherently wrong. One wasn’t better than the other, just a little more specific. The outcome was food, and certainly there was overlap, but they were distinct professions.
When we got in the elevator, Rami asked, “Would you like me to come in and oversee this?”
