Page 31 of Fake It For Glory

“I’m not one of them!” she shouted. “You don’t have to keep paying me, you know. You can fire me right this very second and I’ll be gone. I’ll be happy to walk away from this disaster.”

“Then do it,” I said, folding my arms across my chest, mirroring her defiant stance. “Walk away. You’re right. I do owe you something for your time. I’ll give you whatever you want for the rest of the day. Let’s see, how about fifty thousand?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You’re crazy. I’m not taking your money.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You already signed the contract.”

“I didn’t sign it in blood! I can quit this shit show anytime I want.”

I turned to level my gaze at her. She was challenging me. I should have told her to get the hell out, but dammit, I enjoyed the challenge. No one talked to me the way she did. Except Hattie. This little firecracker was not the meek little mouse she pretended to be. I could see that now. Those big, brown Bambi eyes were deceiving. I would bet a million dollars she was a wildcat in bed.

“Do you really want to quit?” I asked her in a husky voice. “You’re worried about being alone with me?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m worried your image is going to need a lot more than me to rehab.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got an entire staff of people that worry about my image. Your only concern is showing up to the events wearing something other than what you have on now.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “My God, you are an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to be nice to me. But for the love of God, stop insulting me. I don’t actually need your money. I agreed to this job because I wanted the experience. I really can walk away. Do you want to take a chance finding someone else? I’ll make sure Della knows how much of a dick you are. She might just fire you. I read the contract. Every damn word. There is a code of ethics. So far, you’re brushing right up against the line and we haven’t even gone to one of your precious events. You’ll be left high and dry.”

She did make a good point. I walked to my desk and sat down. I leaned back in my chair, letting out a frustrated sigh. I hated that she was right. The whole PR charade was a necessary evil, a charade to maintain the image of the company and my own public persona. But it grated on me, having to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

“You’re not wrong, Merida,” I admitted, rubbing my temples.

She gave me a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “Sometimes a little kindness goes a long way, both in the office and in life. You don’t have to come out swinging every time. I’m not attacking you. I’m telling you what I will put up with and what I won’t. If you ever talk to me like you talked to those people, I will walk. I don’t care where we are or who’s watching. Be nice. Or at the very least, be a decent human being.”

I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at Merida’s comment. “Noted, but for the record, I didn’t hire you for your public relations feedback. I’ve got experts for that.”

She shook her head like she had given up on me. I was used to the look. Hattie directed it my way all the time. I glanced down at her feet, I noted with some relief that she wasn’t wearing white sneakers. Dodged that bullet. However, the plain black flats she had on weren’t much better in terms of making a fashion statement. I was about to say something that I was sure she would take as an insult, but I believed in setting clear guidelines. She just wasn’t getting it.

Just then, Hattie walked into my office, and her timing couldn’t have been better. I gestured toward Merida. “Hattie, perfect. Take Ms. Moore shopping. I never want to see those ugly shoes again.”

Merida rolled her eyes once again. “Do you have a foot fetish? You should have included that in your bio.”

“I have a standard,” I replied easily. “Your footwear looks like something I would find in my grandmother’s closet.”

“Well then your grandmother has great taste in shoes,” Merida said.

Hattie burst into laughter. “I see he’s in a good mood.”

“You should have seen him five minutes ago,” Merida muttered. “It would be nothing short of a miracle if his staff doesn’t mutiny.”

“Jensen, we’ve talked about this,” Hattie warned. “I see your sleeves rolled up. I know what that means. Behave.”

“Just take her shopping,” I growled.

“Come on, we’ll leave the grump to glare at his computer,” Hattie said and hooked her arm through Merida’s.

“Close the door!” I called out.

Merida’s head popped back into my office. She gave me a sweet smile and then slammed it closed. I supposed I deserved that.

Maybe, just maybe, with Merida’s quick wit and Hattie’s fashion sense, I could pull off this fake girlfriend thing. Merida was good on the fly. She wouldn’t get caught in a conversation and struggle to come up with a story about how we met or who she was.

Now if I could just get her to look the part, I’d be all set.