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So, we’re back to manipulation.
Alrighty then.
Blake yawns loudly, and the rude sound hardens my father’s expression.
“That’s not a reason. What are the chances that in the six weeks it’ll take to rebrand Alex’s disaster of an image, the right man is going to show up? Or is there someone waiting in the wings already?”
I bite back an urge to smile and an even bigger impulse to throw my arms around my brother. Without even knowing it, he’d just hit the nail on the head.
I look up into my father’s face. He’s completely flushed. And for the first time since I’ve known him, he seems to not know what to say next.
“Fine,” he finally spits after a bout of silence. He leans back in his chair, and I can see him fighting to maintain an expressionless gaze. “Do it, then. But make sure you let me tell Furman myself.”
“Yeah, because I was just dying to be the one to talk tohim,” Blake retorts. He stands up and heads for the door without another word.
I start to rise too, feeling particularly smug about winning this time around. I’d known that my dad would protest against fake dating Alex, but I’d also figured out he wouldn’t be able to voice the reason without revealing his own schemes.
And I’d been right.
“Wait, Brit,” he says, nodding for me to retake my seat.
“I just need you to know,” he starts, his eyes boring into mine, “that you’re the most important person in the world to me. And when I disagree with some of your actions—case in point—it’s because I believe you deserve better. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
I stare back at him, wanting to remember when I started to realize that I didn’t quite believe my father’s nice words to me anymore. Had it been after I left Philly for two years, or was it even before then, when I started to understand that he only said those affirming words prior to asking me to do things that I did not want to do?
I can’t quite pin it down. All I know is that, while there was a time in my life that I would have given anything to hear him tell me how much he cared for me, the Kool-Aid’s worn off now. I can’t even bring myself to believe half of his words.
What I can do is smile prettily and say, “I know, Dad. And I’m glad I have you as a guide around here.”
We’re both lying to each other.
But only one of us knows it.
CHAPTER 8
ALEX
“So, at what age did you decide that pretending to be someone else is the right way to go through life?”
It’s unbearably difficult to get a satisfying reaction out of Britney. I mean, I’ve tried for years.
But today, with that question, I hit the jackpot.
Her piercing blue eyes grow dark with distrust, her fingers wobbling as she reaches for the wine glass in front of her.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
My gaze rakes over her body. She looks different from her usual self, even more than she had at the party. She’s wearing an A-line, knee-length pink dress with slim straps. Her hair, always tucked in a modest bun ever since her teenage years, is unbound, blond curls uncoiling down her shoulders like a waterfall.
She looks ravishing. But I try not to focus on that. It’s been just a few days since the night at the party, and I need to keep my hands off her or run the risk of making her my full-time addiction.
And this is what I intend to do tonight, on our first fake date. I look around the Japanese restaurant Blake and I decided on. The place looks great, with high, gold-plastered ceilings and chandeliers infusing the room with a soft golden light. The food smells even better than the interior looks. But we chose this restaurant not for its menu, but because the glass walls on one side of the building allowed pedestrians to peek inside.
If we’re lucky, a random passerby will take a shot of us and upload it on a social media platform. Or the photographer Furman hired will leak the photos to an influencer.
“What are you going to order?” Brit asks, reaching for one of the menus.
“You’re going to start pretending you don’t understand me?” I insist, a trace of laughter in my voice. She buries her head in the menu, but looks up, a tiny glare in her eyes.
