Page 24

CHAPTER 23

Alana

Every part of me aches.

From shame and tequila, in equal measure.

The first thing I register is the pounding in my head.

The second is the sunlight slicing through my curtains like a blade to the brain.

And the third? The insistent sound of my phone ringing.

And ringing. And ringing.

I groan, blindly slapping at my nightstand until I find my phone.

I crack one eye open.

It’s Tessa. Shit. We were supposed to go running this morning.

I squint at the time.

11:03 a.m. Double shit.

I press my thumb and middle finger to the bridge of my nose, trying to relieve the pressure.

Then I answer, without even sitting up.

“I am dying,” I croak.

“Girl, I don’t care,” she pants, clearly in the middle of a jog.

“This news will bring you back from the dead.”

“Go on,” I mumble, my interest piquing despite the hangover.

“Jenyx reached out,” Tessa says, voice practically vibrating with excitement.

“Her manager finally got back to you?”

“No, babe. Jenyx. Herself.”

I drop my phone onto the bed like it just burned me.

Holy. Shit.

“Hello? Alana? Are you still alive?” I hear Tessa’s muffled voice coming through the phone.

I scramble to pick it up.

“Yes, I’m here. Tessa, you actual goddess.”

“I know. She wants to meet you. Tonight. At her cliffside estate. For dinner. And then, get this, she wants to discuss concepts at sunrise in her sculpting studio.”

Of course she does.

Jenyx is a visionary.

An eccentric. One of those rare creatives whose brain works in metaphors and metaphysical timelines.

Her cliffside estate is about four hours away.

It’s been all over socials.

Life-changing architecture.

Jaw-dropping décor. The kind of place that makes you question your entire existence.

“That’s… amazing. When do we leave?” I ask, getting out of bed.

I start pacing up and down in my room.

“That’s the catch,” she says, a little sheepish.

“Only you are invited.”

“Ah. Damn. But honestly? That’s probably better. We can talk visionary to visionary. When I die, please make sure my tombstone says: ‘Had dinner with Jenyx.’”

“Babe. You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

“Uhm… tall, dark, ridiculously handsome.”

“Oh. Yeah. About that… I actually need to tell you something.”

“But don’t worry,” she barrels on, “I told her about him. Well… I didn’t say he’s your bodyguard exactly. I might’ve told her he’s your boyfriend and that you are inseparable.”

I freeze.

“You what?”

“Relax! I knew Mr. Broody wouldn’t let you go alone and we can’t screw this up. She said he’s welcome to join.”

“What the hell did you do?” I whisper-shout, panic rising.

“I solved a problem,” she says breezily.

“You just need to play along at dinner. What’s the issue?”

“The issue is I drank half a bottle of tequila last night and kissed him.”

I’ve decided the kiss meant nothing.

It was a stupid, irrational decision, driven by lust and tequila.

But that’s a lie and I know it.

The kiss meant everything.

It meant I lost control.

“WAIT, WHAT?!” I yank the phone away from my ear as she starts screaming.

“Okay but, oh my god, that actually makes so much sense now.”

“What does?” I ask, still cringing.

“Tristin popped by my place last night. Said the date didn’t go as planned. Didn’t go into detail, but he looked… thrown.”

My stomach tightens.

“This is amazing! You kissed Hunter? Then pretending to be his girlfriend is going to be so easy!”

“Tessa. He rejected me.” That shuts her up for a moment.

And yes, that rejection stung.

But I’m used to pushing past my emotions, burying them under layers of control.

It’s how I survive.

“What do you mean, rejected? That’s impossible. No one has ever rejected you. You’re literally perfect.”

I groan.

“It’s fine. Just call Jenyx back and say I’m coming alone. Say Hunter and I broke up. Whatever.”

“Yeah… about that,” she says carefully.

“She’s already gone dark. She’s offline for the day.”

“Of course she is,” I mutter.

“Alana. Babe. You’ve got this. Just play the role for one night.”

It’s not me I’m worried about though, I can pretend.

I’m good at pretending.

Great, even.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll handle it,” I mumble.

I’ll just arrive without Hunter, tell her he had a work thing or that we broke up.

“Love you. Text me the details.”

And I hang up.

I sit on my bed and stare at the wall for a while.

I haven’t even had time to process the disaster that was last night.

But I operate better this way.

Forward motion. Distraction.

My thoughts get too loud in the silence anyway, so it’s best to just jump into action.

Time to brief Hunter.

It will be good to get some distance from him.

Try to unscramble my brain.

I make my way to the kitchen.

Hunter’s sitting at the counter.

His laptop’s open in front of him on the island.

He’s dressed in all black, as usual, but today he’s in a T-shirt.

And the lust? Back. In full force.

I can see the cord of muscle running up his arms.

He glances up, eyes flicking over me once before he says, “Well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living.”

“You’re enjoying this,” I mumble.

“A little,” he admits, pouring a second mug of coffee and sliding it my way.

It feels like we’re back in our rhythm and the sense of normalcy is grounding.

No matter how chaotic everything else feels, I know what to expect from him.

And that, for now, is enough.

I don’t need more. Not today.

“You didn’t have to make me coffee,” I mutter.

“You’re welcome,” he says, maddeningly calm.

I point to his laptop.

“What are you even working on, anyway? What do bodyguards do when they’re not… guarding bodies?”

He lifts a brow.

“Mostly surveillance. Reporting. Background checks. You’re not my only file.”

“You’re saying you cheat on me?”

“Professionally,” he deadpans.

Despite myself, I let out a hoarse laugh.

He hands me the mug of coffee and moves to the stove.

A moment later, I hear the satisfying crack of eggs hitting a pan.

“You’re making breakfast?” I ask, trying not to sound as surprised as I feel.

“For you, yes. You’re dehydrated and hungover. You’ll need fuel if you’re going to survive your punishment.”

“Ah, really? This again?” I decide to grovel.

I don’t have time for punishment today.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left the apartment last night. But in my defence, I left to come looking for you. That has to count for something, right?”

“Fine,” he mutters through what sounds like clenched teeth.

“You get one free pass.”

I could practically kiss him, but I don’t (obviously, not making that mistake again).

I wonder if he’s going to bring up the kiss?

Lord knows I won’t. I need to bleach it from my memory.

But that would be a crime, because that’s material Trevor and I will be revisiting.

Frequently.

“Thank you,” I say as he hands me a plate of eggs.

I’m not even sure what I’m thanking him for.

The breakfast, the coffee, the mercy?

A lazy smile ghosts across his face and my stomach flutters.

I look away.

“You’ve been working hard at training,” he says.

“I think you’ve earned one free pass.”

“Hold onto that thought,” I say and launch into the whole situation Tessa dumped in my lap through bites of food.

Hunter listens, eyes narrowed with focus.

“So you don’t really have an option,” I finish.

“You’re going to have to let me go alone.”

Hunter stands slowly.

“Hold on. You said she thinks I’m going with you. As your partner.”

“Yes,” I say carefully, “but that’s obviously not practical.”

“Why not?” he drawls.

“I’ve done undercover work before.”

I snort and some coffee comes out my nose.

Cute. I try to regain some semblance of composure and continue, “So you’re saying you want to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“No. I don’t want to,” he says evenly.

“But my assignment is to stay by your side, no matter the risk. Or the discomfort.”

Discomfort?

Ouch. Like pretending to be my boyfriend would be some great personal tragedy.

“Fine,” I say coolly.

“We leave in an hour.”

“Let’s just keep the story simple tonight.”

“Simple?” I echo.

“Yeah. We’ve been together six months. You fell first. I fell harder.”

Then he walks away.