Page 5

Ken

The Carmichael mansion looms ahead, all stone and columns and old money. The kind of place that used to make me feel small. Back when I cleaned rich people’s pools or danced for their bored wives.

I park my old black Camaro between a Bentley and a Lambo. Classic cars. The type bought with inheritance, not hard work.

Why did I agree to this?

But I know why. Because Ashton's different. He's never looked down on me, never cared that I grew up eating ramen while he had a personal chef. He's just... Ashton. My linemate. My friend.

And now I'm pretending to date his sister.

A sleek Aston Martin pulls into the circular drive just as I'm getting out. The car door opens, and a female figure steps out with a fluid grace that makes my breath catch. Leather jacket, tight black pants, spiky hair.Even in shadow, she's smoking hot.

Please let that be Ashton's sister.

Then she walks into the light .

And my whole world stops.

“You!” we say at once, her green eyes wide.

"Princess." The old nickname slips out before I can stop it.

"No." She backs up a step. "No fucking way."

"Small world, huh?"

"You're Ashton's teammate?" Her voice rises. "You're the intellectual he promised?"

"Disappointed?" I can't help the edge in my voice. "The woman who left cash on my nightstand like I was a cheap hooker."

"Weren't you?"

The words hit like a body check, but I force a smile. "Careful, Princess. Your fake boyfriend might not appreciate that attitude."

"Don't call me that." She runs a hand through her short, spiky hair. "And you can't be my fake anything. This is... this is insane."

"Yeah? Tell that to your brother. The one who doesn't know about our... previous encounter."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess. Though I do still have that envelope. Should I frame it?"

"I'll double it if you walk away right now."

"You sure? Because you need a date. I promised Ashton. And neither of us wants him to know about that night."

"Because it would ruin your tough guy image? The stripper thing?"

"Exotic dancer," I correct, enjoying how it makes her flinch. "And no. Because Ashton's my friend. He trusted me with his sister's reputation."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "My reputation? That's rich, coming from someone who—"

"Who what? Worked his way through college? Did what he had to do to survive?" I step closer, close enough to smell her perfume. "Not all of us had trust funds, Princess."

Something flickers in her eyes. Guilt? "I didn't—"

"Know? Care? Does it matter?" I shrug. "Ancient history now. But we're stuck with each other for the next week, so maybe dial down the judgment."

"I can't do this." She shakes her head. "I'll tell Dad something came up, that you—"

"That I what? Turned out to be a stripper? Good luck explaining how you know that."

"Exotic dancer," she mimics. I almost smile.

Despite everything, I almost smile. She's quick, I'll give her that.

"Look," I say, "it's one week. We pretend, we smile, we convince Daddy you're not destined to die alone. Then we never see each other again."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple. Unless..." I let my gaze travel down her body, remembering how she felt under me that night. "You don't trust yourself around me?"

Her eyes flash. "Trust myself? With what? Your sparkling personality?"

"You seemed to enjoy my personality just fine that night. And other ‘assets’ too."

"I was drunk."

"Not that drunk."

She opens her mouth to reply, but footsteps crunch on gravel. We both turn to see Ashton walking toward us, grinning.

"Hey! You've met already?"

I catch Bree's eye, see the panic there. "Yup. We’ve met all right."

"Great!" Ashton claps me on the shoulder. "Then this won't be awkward at all."

Not at all.

"Shall we?" I offer Bree my arm, the perfect gentleman .

She stares at it like it might bite her. "This is the worst idea of my life."

"The second worst of mine."

She glares at me but takes my arm. "It's too fucking late now anyway."

As we walk toward the house, I lean down to whisper in her ear. "By the way, Princess? I did shower in advance this time."

Her grip bites through my jacket, and all I can think about is those same hands wrapped tight around my cock while she sucks me off, eyes locked on mine.