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My brother has tried calling me forty-six times today. The guy has way too much time on his hands. The thing you need to know about my brother—he’s extremely persistent. How else could he have dated so many girls since high school? Persistence, that’s how. After a while, people give in, just to make the pestering stop. So, I give him a call back as soon as I get home.
“What?” I grumble the moment he answers.
“You’re actually dating Wade Hunter?”
“That was last night’s conversation, Liam. Are you still stuck on that?”
He snorts. “Well, yeah! You hung up on me. Wh—But—How? Weren’t you dating Karl?”
“No. I thought we might get together, but it didn’t work out. Then I met Wade. Now, here I am. So stop calling me.”
“Wait!”
I flinch at his scream, pulling the phone away from my ear.
“What?” I groan, setting the phone on the table and putting it on speaker.
“You have to introduce us. He’s dating my big sister, after all. I need to make sure he treats you well and everything . . .”
“Since when are you interested in who I’m dating?” I ask, dragging a hand down my face.
“Since you started dating one of my favourite players.”
I grind my teeth. “Not gonna happen. B—”
“Please. Dad loves him too. Just dinner, or lunch. And then I’ll never, ever bother you again. Please, Roxy. Imagine if I was dating your favourite actress and I refused to introduce you.”
As if Liam could ever date Anne Hathaway . . . But he’s got a point. Besides, I’ve never heard his tone this pleading. And it’s been a while since he called me Roxy. “Fine,” I say with a resigned sigh. “I’ll ask if he has time to meet for lunch. But he’s very busy, so don’t expect a positive answer.”
“Thank you, thank you! You’re the best sister in the world,” he gushes.
“Uh-huh. Bye, Liam.”
My chest constricts around my lungs at the prospect of asking Wade to meet my family. Sure, I met his brother, but it’s not quite the same. Inviting him to spend a meal with us carries more implications—at least for me—and I’m not sure I can handle that.
I spend most of Wednesday preparing for my interview with Wade, and when Thursday rolls around, I’m eager to start. He sent me his address, and I’m meeting him at his penthouse in Mayfair. When I arrive a few minutes early, he opens his front door with a sparkling smile.
“Hey,” he says, greeting me with a swift, soap-scented hug that totally takes me by surprise. Since no one is around, I wasn’t expecting any physical contact. “Come on in,” he continues.
The first thought that hits me when I enter is how tidy his place is. I know Wade probably has a housekeeper, but I was expecting something a bit more like a bachelor pad. His place looks like a staged photo straight off the pages of Architectural Digest.
As I follow him toward the living room, nothing can tear my eyes off this stunning place, not even his spectacular backside that’s being showcased in a pair of fitted jeans. Wade literally lives in my dream flat. Modern and elegant with a pop of colour, thanks to the Art Deco furniture.
I catch a glimpse of the kitchen, and my heart stutters. It’s all white with expansive countertops and an earth-tone marble backsplash featuring a blend of green, brown, and white.
Then, we enter the living room, and it surpasses all my expectations. The space seems endless with its floor-to-ceiling windows framed by thick beige curtains, which blanket the space in a cosy atmosphere. There’s an office corner on one side, and a dark wood bookcase produces a chic finish. The navy-blue U-shaped leather sofa stretches over a silver carpet, a selection of antiques and art pieces completing the look.
“Do you want something to drink?” Wade asks.
“I’m good.” I sit down on the sofa, still dazzled by the breathtaking room design.
Rolling up the sleeves of his white sweatshirt, Wade sits down across from me. Suddenly, the decór is no longer the most appealing thing in the room. Nothing can compare to Wade’s soulful steel eyes and the sensation that ripples through your body when they lock onto you. They draw you in like quicksand, only you’re not trying to fight your way out. You let it consume you, even if you’re terrified of the consequences—which, for me, are massive. My heart won’t be able to handle the heartbreak that will come along with falling for my fake boyfriend, the same one I’m using to make my long-time crush jealous. Focus, Roxy. You have to remember why you’re here. This interview could change the course of my career. Now is not the time to dwell on the sorry state of my (non-existent) love life.
Pulling my voice recorder and my notes from my bag, I force my eyes away as I plaster a professional smile on my face. “So, your publicist sent over a list of questions I’m allowed to ask. Let’s start with—”
“Stop,” he says. And just like that, I’m once again drawn into his unsettling gaze. “I thought about your angle. You should do the story that feels right to you. If it’s a success story you want to write, you should write it.”
“Oh no.” I swallow hard. “Don’t worry about it, Wade. I don’t want to force you to tell me your deepest, darkest secrets. The list of questions is perfectly suitable. You’re already being nice enough to do this for me—”
