Page 6 of Fake it for Keeps

I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not exactly what I had in mind,” he said bluntly. “I was hoping for a model. Someone who didn’t need this much fabric to cover her ass and tits.” He grumbled about the bread on the table and shoved it out of my reach. “Let’s keep it classy, please? You’re on thin ice and I expect you to play damage control and make it up to me for that asinine display.”

Asinine? The only asinine display was this grown-ass man’s crude behavior and his harsh words. I hated how they cut into me and made my chest bloom with shame. I could barely look at the others seated at our table who’d overheard his comments about my body.

I was no size four, six, eight, or even ten. I’d spent years hating my curves, wishing I could shrink myself down to fit society’s impossible standards. But I’d finally—finally—gotten to a place where I liked my body. Where I felt comfortable in my own skin. And moments like this made me wonder what I’d done all that work for.

Pull it together, Hallie. Don’t let him see it hurt.

I wanted to walk out. To tell him to shove his contract and his money up his pinched asshole that probably resembled his pinched face. But I’d signed paperwork with the Faux agency. I’d agreed to see this night through. He saw my picture. He chose me. It wasn’t my fault he couldn’t get his own model. I didn’t want to say it, but hello, he wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt.

Della, the owner of Faux, had recruited me months ago. She’d come into the salon where I worked as a hairdresser, sat in my chair for a cut and color, and spent the entire appointment studying me. By the time I’d finished blow-drying her hair, she’d handed me a business card and told me I had potential.

“Wealthy men need companions for events,” she’d explained during my interview. “They’re often lonely. Most of them just want someone charming and beautiful on their arm. No women would willingly spend time with them otherwise.”

I thought it sounded easy enough. Make some extra cash, attend fancy parties, smile and nod. Nothing physical at all.

I hadn’t expected John, but I guessed he was the walking and talking example of the kind of man women didn’t willingly want to spend time with. No wonder he had to buy my time. If one of us shoud be feeling shame and worthlessness, it was him, not me.

Asshole, I decided.

As the lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated the stage at the front of the ballroom, a smooth voice crooned through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new CEO of Valenteen, Mr. Colt Jesson.”

The room erupted in applause as Colt strode onto the stage, his long strides eating the distance, his devilish smirk exuding confidence and ego in all its glory. He looked completely at ease under the spotlight, his broad shoulders filling out his tuxedo perfectly, his dark hair slicked back to reveal those devastating hazel eyes that shined like jewels.

And then those eyes found mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.