Page 36 of My Real Love Affair

I took a breath. This was it. The pitch. The moment where I either convinced her or lost her entirely.

“I have a proposal,” I started. “And I need you to hear me out before you say no.”

“That’s not a promising start.”

“Just listen.” I took a sip of wine and wished it was something much stronger. “Last night at the wedding, that was fun. Reallyfun. And this morning, I started thinking—what if we didn’t stop?”

“Didn’t stop what?”

“The relationship. Us.” I leaned forward. “What if we made it official? Not for real, obviously. But publicly. For a few months. Long enough to serve both our purposes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We faked it for a few hours last night. Let’s fake it a few months.”

She stared at me. “You want us to fake date?”

“I want us to help each other.” I kept my voice low to make sure no one overheard us. “Look, you need to rebuild your reputation. Get people talking about something other than that brand scandal. And I need my family to back off. My father’s threatening to cut me off from my trust fund. Cash is on my ass twenty-four seven. They think I’m a screw-up, and maybe I am, but I’m not ready to lose everything over it.”

“So you want to use me as what? Proof that you can be in a stable relationship?”

“Yes. And in exchange, I’ll help you. I have access to the best PR teams in the country. Lawyers who can go after that brand for what they did to you. Connections that can open doors. The Bancroft name carries weight, Melody. Real weight. With me in your corner, your reputation can be restored. Better than restored—enhanced.”

She was quiet, clearly processing everything I’d just said. I could practically see her mind working, weighing the pros and cons.

“For how long?” she finally asked.

“A few months. Long enough that when we eventually break up, no one questions that we gave it a real shot.”

“And what do you get out of it besides keeping your trust fund?”

“Breathing room. Space from my family’s expectations. A chance to figure out who I actually am instead of who they want me to be. No more babysitters.” I held her gaze. “And honestly? I like spending time with you. That’s not fake.”

“But the relationship would be.”

“The circumstances would be fake. The agreement. The timeline. But everything else?” I reached across the table again, running my thumb across her knuckles. “That can be as real as we want it to be.”

She pulled her hand back. “This is insane.”

“Maybe. But it’s also smart. Mutually beneficial. And it gives us both what we need.”

“What I need is to rebuild trust with my community. With women who feel like I betrayed them. How does fake dating a billionaire help with that?”

“Because it changes the narrative. Right now, you’re the girl who sold out. But date me for a few months? You become the girl who survived cancel culture and came back stronger. The girl who didn’t let anyone keep her down. My PR team can help you craft that story. Help you take back control.”

I could see her wavering. See the logic starting to penetrate her skepticism. Time for the closer. I hit her with my most dazzling smile, the one that had gotten me out of trouble more times than I could count. The one that made people say yes even when they knew they shouldn’t.

“What do you say, baby girl?”

She flinched at the nickname. “If we do this—and I’m not saying we are—you need to stop calling me that.”

“Why? You get all flustered. It’s cute.”

“Because this would be pretend. A business arrangement. And that nickname makes it feel—” She stopped, biting her lip.

“Makes it feel what?”

“Real,” she admitted quietly. “It makes it feel real. And I can’t let myself forget this is fake.”