Page 45 of Lucky Puck

“Smart plan,” he says. “But you were always the smart one.”

I blink in confusion. “What? I mean, what makes you say that? You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than you think. We’ve been negotiating together for the past two years, haven’t we? In fact, you could say we started out together. I was your first client, and you were my first agent.”

“Technically, I’m only an assistant agent.” Even my small attempt at keeping things real pales against the picture he’s painting.

“Right, because you’re starting out, like me.”

I snort-laugh and then cough. “My career trajectory is nothing like yours. Not even in the same dimension.”

“Don’t worry. I have a feeling you’ll be promoted before long.” He winks.

I snort again, this time with derision because he’s gone too far, and I can’t buy in. “Either that or I’ll be fired. Then I’ll be working at the family diner.”

The pilot announces that we’re cleared for take-off, and the plane starts to move.

I clutch the arms of my seat, or try to, but they’re too wide here in first class, and I can’t get a comforting grip.

Without a word, Brody puts a hand over mine and gives it a squeeze, then holds on. Looking straight ahead, he says, “Take-offs are the hardest part. Also the most exhilarating if you let them be.” He turns to me and holds my eyes with his, staring with comfort and a sparkle of growing excitement as the engines roar and then the plane speeds up.

I feel the vibration in my chest as it tightens, and Brody tightens his grip on my hand, then caresses my palm with his thumb as the engines reach their whining crescendo, and I feel my stomach float up and down the moment the wheels leave the ground.

A small nervous laugh bubbles up, and I’m not sure if it’s relief or maybe that exhilaration he talked about.

“Told you,” he says quietly, then he sits back in his seat. Retrieving his hat, he tilts it forward on his head so it covers his face, rests back, and closes his eyes, with one hand still holding mine.

His hand relaxes, and it feels warm and way too comfortable for being fake.

Against my better judgment—because I should be yanking my hand away from him to make sure he knows where the lines are drawn, that we’re not going to share intimacies, that we’re not going to do all those things that married people do—I sink back into my seat and give in to the easy comfort, silencing my worry and letting go of all my defenses.

Heaven help me.

Unlike Brody, I don’t fall asleep. My mind spins around whether or not I can meet Jett’s expectations for this charade without having a meltdown or without our secret somehow getting out.

Or worst of all, without Brody bailing out on the fake marriage because he… don’t go there.

Then I’d have a meltdown for sure because that would mean the end of the Bianca Brooks super-agent myth—I mean dream. Also, the end of hot drugging kisses from a man I shouldn’t be fantasizing about right now as I glance over at him. He looks cherubic in his sleep. If it weren’t for the mouth-watering stubble of his beard, his sexy Adam’s apple, and the indelible imprint of his naked body in my mind’s eye, I might think he looks boyish.

But no. I turn away.

The biggest problem with this whole charade, even if everything goes right, is that at some point, Brody and I will be getting a divorce from our fake marriage, and at that point, he’ll… no longer be in my life—no, what’s seriously more important is that he’ll no longer be eligible to be my client. Because divorced people, no matter how amicable said divorce is, cannot claim to have the same interests. Because they don’t.

That thought is so depressing on so many levels.

That’s why I need this newlywed charade to last until the end of the season. For purely business reasons. That’s when we re-negotiate Brody’s contract with the Whalers and Cavalaro Motors. That’s when I get my bonus and my promotion, and that’s when my name will be on the roster of major league agents.

Then, ideally, I can convince Jett to let me run a new book of clients, maybe branch into the music industry. My bestie Kat has mentioned it a few times, but neither of us was ready. I’m still not sure we’re ready.

Will it require a leap of faith—on both our parts—that I can learn and gain legitimacy in a whole new industry? Yes, but I’m up to the challenge. I’ve been fighting against the odds all my life. I’m used to trying to prove myself wherever I go, but mostly to myself, all my life.

Jett has to give me the chance. Companies who are watching and waiting in the wings to see how the season and Brody’s promotional power pans out will start flocking, and the agency’s stock and bank account will go through the roof.

It’s sad that when all is said and done, there will be no way I can keep Brody—I mean as a client. Not even as a sort-of friend. There will be no reason for me to talk to him regularly, let alone see him. Except as a spectator in the sea of thousands yelling his name.

He’ll turn into one of those remember whens of my life, the kind that gives me a little secret thrill because what I’ll remember—and cherish most if I’m honest—are those kisses and the quiet moments when he gets me, looks at me like he can see me, every last bit of me, and likes what he sees.

But never mind. I know better than to cry over spilled milk. I’m a full-grown professional woman who knows how to pivot.