Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
CHLOE
I sit at my desk, sucking on a mint candy and feeling on edge. Lucas sent me a nasty email threatening to take our quarrel over splitting the business to the legal realm. I know he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, but it doesn’t make me any less nervous.
I can’t take another financial hit. I’m already in over my head with business costs, although my move out of my Santa Monica office will help.
I watch a pair of seagulls flying over the ocean in the blue sky and frown. I am not looking forward to my new office view of a parking lot.
“Hello, Chloe,” a deep voice says from the doorway. I whip around and I’m surprised to see Liam standing there, leaning against the doorframe.
“Liam?” I rise out of my seat, glancing around uncertainly. I expected to see Olivia for our four o’clock session, not Liam. “Is everything all right?”
He nods. “Mom has a migraine, so I came instead.”
“Oh.” I blink at him, caught off guard.
He grins and motions to the couch. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“Sure, of course,” I say, watching him close my office door.
He strides over, unbuttoning his suit coat, and settles on the couch. I sit across from him in the armchair, perching on the edge and feeling apprehensive for some reason.
“Do you want a session right now?” I ask gently. I’m not sure if he’s here today for coaching or another reason.
He gives me an amused smile. It makes my innards twist with anxiety. What has he got on his mind?
When he doesn’t answer right away, I find myself talking to fill the uncomfortable silence. “We could pick up with discussing your former relationships,” I suggest.
I wish he would stop staring at me that way, like he’s in on some joke that I’m not.
“Let’s talk about my future relationship.” A mischievous sparkle in his eye makes my breath catch.
“Yes, well, we want to move in that direction,” I agree, feeling suddenly hot under his gaze. “But before we do, I need to hear how things have gone in the past.”
“When you drive a car, do you navigate by looking in the rearview mirror?” His question is confronting.
“Of course, you don’t, but I?—”
“Okay, so I want to talk about my future. My mother is unhappy because she sees me alone.” His fingers tick off his points as he lays them out. “Her expectation is that you will somehow fix me so I can date someone. She is very concerned about who that person will be, and she wants me to give her grandchildren.”
I smile at him. He’s on a mission here.
I remember standing out on the dark sidewalk with him, seeing the genuineness in his eyes. Perhaps he is ready to commit to the life coaching process after all.
His excited energy is contagious, and I lean forward.
“Yes, and I can help?—”
“Yes, you can.” He cuts me off on purpose. What is his game? His stern, controlling demeanor is in stark contrast to the gentleness I saw at the end of our last session. I bristle in my seat.
“Liam, you have to let me speak if I’m going to help you.”
“Just listen this time.” He leans closer to me, holding my gaze. “My mother is picky. She wants a woman she approves of, one she loves, has a relationship with, and can trust. She has never liked any of the women I’ve dated, so it’s difficult to please her. I believe if she sees me with someone she values, she will become more comfortable with my ability to hold a relationship.”
“Well, you’d have to be approachable to anyone first, before they’d have the nerve to date you and meet your mother.” I glare at him, not hiding my displeasure at how he is running over me in the conversation.
“Exactly.”
“What?” He agrees with me?
“You’re right, and I don’t have time for that.”
I’m utterly confused. “Liam, what are you here for today?” I ask pointedly.
“For you.” His eyes fix on mine.
“Me?”
“Yes. You ,” he grins at me, and my stomach knots. “My mother loves you. You tick off every box for her.”
I feel myself separating from my body as he talks. My heart is pounding, and the moment doesn’t feel real. What is he saying?
“You’re successful, beautiful, strong,” he continues, leaning in closer to me. “You can tolerate my bullshit, and you make her smile.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t understand, are you asking to date me?” I finally say, my voice barely a whisper.
He chuckles lightly and sits up straight. “Well, on paper, yes.”
“On paper?”
“Well, not on actual paper. We don’t need a signed contract if you agree.”
“To what?” I shake my head, confused.
“What I’m suggesting is that we have a different sort of arrangement. Instead of my life coach, be my girlfriend,” he proposes, his eyes earnest and hopeful.
I sit in silence, reeling. How is this happening? It’s beyond inappropriate. But I feel it, deep down—there’s a part of me that is excited that Liam would want me. I try to rationalize that it’s the primitive part of me—the impulsive, sex-crazy part that just wants to feel good. I mentally try to shove this part aside to think clearly.
“Chloe,” he continues, his voice lowering. “There’s a blank check with your name on it. Pick your price, and I’ll make it happen.” He sits back, a smug look on his face.
What. The. Fuck.
I am aware that my mouth is gaping open.
I pause to suck in a breath of air so I can regain the ability to speak. “Are you suggesting that I sleep with you for money? Have your children so your mother can have grandchildren?” I am suddenly dizzy, trying to wrap my mind around his proposal.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I didn’t make myself clear. I’m asking you to play the role of my girlfriend for a price. Pretend to be my girlfriend in public.”
Oh . It finally clicks. I understand now what he is asking, and I deflate. It shouldn’t feel like a slap in the face, but it does.
I wonder about my own reaction. He doesn’t actually want to fuck me and impregnate me and I’m feeling disappointed? I almost laugh.
My damned, sex-starved, primitive brain seems to be in the driver’s seat during this conversation despite my best efforts. That part of me is taking over and I feel… angry.
“No.” My firm reply coordinates with my action as I stand and walk away from him. I stop near my desk with my back to him as I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself.
“Chloe, my mother loves you. She would be ecstatic,” I hear him plead softly.
“Does Olivia know anything about this?” I turn around to face him, my eyes narrowing in accusation.
“No, she knows nothing, and she will know nothing.” He seems sincere.
Liam holds my gaze as he stands up. I feel my body tense and I back against my desk.
“I won’t bite, Chloe.” He smiles, walking over to me and leaning against the armchair I just fled. “Look, this can be good for both of us. I want it to be really good for both of us.” His tone sounds suggestive, but I immediately dismiss it as my own projection.
He is very close to me now and I swallow hard. I notice a scar, a thin diagonal slash near his temple that catches the light, adding a touch of rugged character to his otherwise polished appearance. I wonder about how he got it but realize it’s one of the many mysteries about Liam I may never uncover. He is a closed book and completely uninterested in being vulnerable. He would prefer to watch me squirm.
“You are perfect,” he says plainly, his eyes roaming my body head to toe as if he’s giving me a final appraisal. I absolutely hate it and love it at the same time. “You’ll be good for my PR image too—soften me and show I’m not some loner.”
I scoff. “But you are.” I can’t believe I’m some pawn to him. “Faking a relationship to make your mother get off your back and improve your PR image will not work in the long run,” I seethe. “What happens when we ‘break up’? Have you thought of that?”
“Yeah, I have,” he says quietly. “She needs to see that I am capable of a relationship. I just want to give her hope, Chloe.” He shrugs and I can tell this is a sore spot for him. It sobers me.
I detect pain underneath his plea, and I realize there’s something I don’t know. Something in the past. Some reason that drives him so much to take care of her.
“Liam, I can’t,” I say, gently now. “It’s so unbelievably unethical.”
“Why?” he asks, confused.
“I can’t date—or fake date—a client or even a former client. It’s spelled out in our code of ethics,” I explain.
He nods, knowingly, as if he had prepared for this hiccup. “I read our agreement. It says I have expectations as a client to fully engage and ‘commit’ to the coaching process, but I never did,” he smiles, as if he’s delighted by how bad he was at being a client. “I didn’t uphold my end of the deal, so—legally—we were never truly in a client-coach relationship.”
I chuckle. Great . I deluded myself into thinking we were making some kind of progress when he never took this seriously.
I shake my head. “Appearances matter. If people even think we ended a client-coach agreement so we could ‘jump into bed together,’ it could still kill my reputation. They’re not going to care about how much you were ‘committed’ to the coaching process. They’re just going to think that I sleep with clients.” I wave my hand as if painting the picture for him. Doesn’t he get it?
“But who’s going to know about the coaching? Only my mom knows.” He tousles his thick, chocolate-brown hair, thinking through the situation. “I’ll explain to her that she can’t divulge our prior relationship due to your concerns,” he reasons. “And you have to keep my confidentiality, right?”
He has a point . Maybe people wouldn’t know, as long as Olivia can keep a secret.
He smiles because he knows he has me. He stands up straight and moves even closer, as if already playing at being an intimate couple. “Chloe, I want this, and I think you do too.” His eyes are locked on mine intensely as he leans forward and, for an instant, I think he’s going to kiss me.
Instead, he slowly reaches behind me. I hear the rustling of wrappers as he grabs a candy mint out of the dish on my desk. His warm breath is on my neck and my breathing has stopped altogether. I’m nearly pressed against him, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s doing this on purpose, and my body doesn’t object.
He steps back and smiles knowingly. “I promise it’ll be fun.” He unwraps the candy and pops it in his mouth. My gaze is drawn to his lips and tongue.
“As tempting as that is…” I clear my throat and push away from the desk, away from him, and walk towards the office door. I feel flushed and pull off my light cardigan. In my sleeveless lace top, I’m aware of his eyes on my bare shoulders. It’s not the best decision to start removing clothing when I’m trying to maintain appropriate boundaries, but I desperately need to cool down.
I lay the cardigan on top of a moving box. Since our last session, I’ve packed two stacks of boxes, which are pushed against the wall, behind the office door.
Liam stares at my profile as I brace myself against a box with one hand and rub my face with the other. “You’re moving out?” he asks, noticing the boxes.
Great, now he has more ammo for why I should accept his blank check. “Yeah, Culver City,” I mutter.
He grimaces, realizing that I’m downsizing, as he sits on the edge of my desk. “Chloe, it doesn’t need to be this hard. I can offer you everything you want. You could move even closer to the beach.” He motions out the window, the ocean a couple blocks away. “Forget Culver City.”
“Liam…” I turn to face him directly. He really is a gorgeous man. He could have any woman he wants, but he chooses to be alone. Even now, he wants a business arrangement with me, not a real relationship. “I genuinely want to help you,” I explain honestly. “So, I can’t be your meaningless arm candy. I would hate myself for enabling your avoidance of any substantive relationship.”
Liam blinks at me. “Ouch,” he says flatly, but I can tell he is barely scathed by my exposé. He hops off the desk and paces around, running his hand through his hair. “Okay.” He turns to me with determination. “I want you as my girlfriend, and you want to ‘fix’ me.” He uses air quotes for “fix,” and I grit my teeth. “How are those things at odds?” he asks rhetorically. “Girlfriends try to fix their boyfriends all the time.”
“Well, I won’t be your real girlfriend, apparently,” I grumble without thinking. I’m immediately surprised and embarrassed by my own complaint. I hope he didn’t notice, but he pauses to study me.
“What if that part is real?” He asks like he has had a stroke of genius. “Instead of life coach sessions, we have ‘relationship talks,’” he offers, using those damn air quotes again.
I snicker. “You just got done telling me that you were never invested in the coaching but, somehow, you’re going to take ‘relationship talks’ seriously?”
“Yes, I’ll do it,” he says firmly.
“I don’t believe you.” I smile, amused at his game.
“Chloe,” he approaches me again. I try to move back but I’m up against the wall, and there’s nowhere to go. He rests a hand on the moving box, and I’m cornered on three sides. It’s been a game of cat-and-mouse all around the office, and he’s the sort who toys around with his prey before going in for the kill. “I’m very serious about making this work between us. I’ll accept your terms.”
“Why didn’t you just accept the coaching terms?” I stand my ground. “We already had a deal.”
“This is a better deal for both of us.”
I shake my head. Olivia isn’t known to be tight-lipped. She could easily mention my former coaching relationship with Liam to one of her gossipy friends. I shouldn’t risk my reputation .
Liam studies me and softens. “I’ll open up and bare my soul to you, Chloe, if that’s what you want. I’m at your mercy.”
I am taken aback by his words, and I see a vulnerability in his eyes that makes me believe him.
But it’s still not a good idea. “I can’t,” I say quietly.
Liam presses his lips together. “Just a couple months. Name your price.”
“It’s not right.” I shake my head.
He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “Five million.”
My heart nearly stops. Holy fuck .
I swallow hard. “It’s not right,” I repeat myself mechanically.
“It’s just business, Chloe.” He looks at me darkly. “A transaction.”
How does he make the word “transaction” sound so dirty? Whatever flicker of vulnerability I saw is gone, and he’s back in control.
He raises his eyebrows. “Ten million.”
I feel the color drain from my cheeks. I can’t hide my shock and I notice his lips curling into a faint smile.
He’s getting off on making me squirm.
“You can’t be serious,” I whisper. Ten million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend for the summer?
“It’s an acting job, Chloe. You’re in Hollywood, live a little.” He grins.
“I can’t act,” I snort.
“We’re all actors in one way or another,” he insists.
I can’t argue there. I’d be pretending if I said I didn’t want the money. My mind can’t even wrap around ten million dollars. Office rental problems would be a distant memory. I would actually be able to afford to buy a house in Los Angeles, a distant dream for most residents.
The arrangement is risky for me, but only if we are ousted. He said he will see to Olivia’s silence. I can feel my primitive brain taking the wheel again, rationalizing why this is okay.
But I need to know he is serious about my terms. The suggestion that my services are worth millions to him makes me bolder.
I narrow my eyes. “Tell me what happened with your ex.”
His expression crumbles. He recoils, stepping away and I am no longer cornered between him and the moving box. He looks like I stuck a sharp thorn in his paw.
He’s silent and I can practically see the thoughts racing through his mind. The vulnerability in his eyes almost makes me regret catching him off guard like this, but I need him to show me he can uphold his end of the deal.
He leans up against the armchair again and looks away from me, out the window. The sun is dipping into the ocean and the sky is a blazing red.
Liam takes a deep breath and turns back to me. “I didn’t mean to her what she meant to me,” he says matter-of-factly. “She had been sleeping around on me and I never knew. I was completely blind to it.” He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “It gutted me because I thought I knew her, but I didn’t.” He searches my eyes as if seeking the remedy for his grief.
Though his words are steady, I can feel the pain in his gaze and my heart aches for him. I want to take away his hurt—pluck out the thorn—but I also recognize that this is progress. And I’m so proud of him for it.
He lets out a breath and looks down, slumping against the armchair. I am drawn to him and cross the space between us.
Cautiously, I place my hand on his forearm. “Liam, I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say softly.
He glances up at me. “Yeah. Fuck,” he says, as he stands up straight, trying to shake off the emotion that I forced him to confront and my hand falls away from him. I understand now why he has closed himself off. He was blindsided and hurt. He doesn’t want that kind of agony again.
He’s only inches away. He gazes down at me and my stomach clenches. The intimacy I felt on the sidewalk is suddenly here again, only more palpable.
“Did I pass your test?” he asks, studying me.
I swallow, knowing what I’m about to do.
I smile. “You did. I’ll do it, Liam.”
“Really?” His eyes light up with excitement.
“Yes, I’ll be your ‘girlfriend,’” I agree.
Liam suddenly scoops me into a hug. I am pressed against his strong torso. “Thank you,” he breathes into my hair, and I can feel his relief. He doesn’t let me go.
I don’t push away. I allow myself to enjoy the feeling of his body on mine for a moment as I notice his hand on my lower back.
But I’m also aware that I shouldn’t blur boundaries even more if I can help it. “So, what now?” I finally ask, breaking the silence.
He lowers his lips to my ear. “I’m going to take you to a Hollywood movie premiere.”
Then he pulls away, breaking our charged embrace, to see my reaction. My mouth parts, disbelieving that any of this is real. He gives me a boyish grin.
It’s just business, I remind myself. But objectively, he is a total heartthrob.