It’s Not All Fake

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHLOE

I am completely fucked.

Literally—it was amazing sex. I’ve been sitting at my office desk, chewing on a pen cap, and staring at the couch across the room, remembering the feeling of his body against mine, how he felt so good.

But the worst part is that it wasn’t just sex. Liam is tender, sweet, charming, and a whole bunch of other adjectives that make my knees weak. And I am falling for him. Hard.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Calling your sponsor is a good idea too.

I force myself out of my thoughts and into the present moment. A rectangular patch of sunlight falls across my desk, the sun starting its descent into the horizon. My phone glints in the light on the desk. I pick it up and unlock it.

An article about Liam appears on the screen; Ashley sent it to me earlier.

Liam Wright spotted kissing new girlfriend shrink Chloe Middleton.

The “shrink” part isn’t accurate. I’m no psychologist. But the picture—that part is all too real. Liam’s arms are wrapped around me in the photograph, our lips locked, completely lost in each other and oblivious to the fact that our picture was being taken, illuminated by the streetlight in the parking lot.

Liam was completely oblivious to that fact, wasn’t he?

This is all just too much. I close the article and find Ashley’s number. I need a dose of reality right now.

As the line rings, I hear a knock on my office door. An older, balding man peeks in—the tech guy, Randy, from Liam’s staff. I had to send him away this morning because he couldn’t finish before a client arrived. Glad he has returned, I wave him in as I stand up and let him take the driver’s seat at my desk.

“I’ll just be outside,” I explain as I walk past him. I definitely need privacy for this conversation. The tech guy smiles and nods as I exit the office.

On the third ring, Ashley picks up.

“You see the article?” She gets right to the point.

“Yeah, I did.” I exhale, taking an empty seat in the waiting area near the elevators. There are no more clients today and the area is deserted.

“Chloe, what’s going on? Are you sleeping with him?”

I scrub my face. “I did, yeah.”

“And he’s still paying you?”

“Yeah, technically,” I admit. I told him I would give his money back, but we didn’t exactly get around to solidifying a plan to end our financial arrangement.

I hear her exhale in frustration. “This isn’t going to end like Pretty Woman, Chloe.” Her tone is firm, motherly.

I just listen, my entire body tense.

“Chloe, you’re his paid escort at this point. You do see that, don’t you?”

I groan, Ashley’s words cutting me. “No, I don’t think it’s like that,” I counter, my mind spinning. I am completely torn. Things feel so real with Liam, and he said it’s not all professional anymore, but we didn’t exactly agree to new terms.

“Sweetie,” Ashley’s tone softens. “Did he say you’re his real girlfriend now?”

Her question feels like a gut punch. “No.”

Is that what I want? To be his real girlfriend?

“You’re his employee. This whole thing,” Ashley pauses, frustrated. “The money isn’t an issue for you anymore, I get that. But I thought you cared about your career. You love helping people and this could ruin your business,” Ashley cautions me.

“Yeah, the media already thinks I’m a ‘shrink’ apparently.” I laugh half-heartedly, desperately needing to break the tension even for a second.

“But it’s not just your business, Chloe. This can’t end well. He hasn’t made any promises to you.”

“I know.” I rub my temples. “I know,” I repeat. She is warning me that I’m going to get hurt.

“You need to end it. The whole thing,” Ashley says firmly. “He can deal with mommy issues on his own.”

But it’s so much more complicated than that .

Explaining all the nuances of this situation to Ashley would take ages. Olivia’s cancer, Liam’s desperate attempt to ease her anxieties about his well-being, and how his protective instincts stem much further back to the abuse Liam and Olivia endured from his father…

Yes, the risks are real for me. I see the danger, but I’ve driven straight into each pothole so far.

“Look, I get it.” I sigh, feeling the weight of it all.

Just then, the tech guy peeks out of my office, giving me a silent nod to signal he’s finished and ready to debrief.

“So, what are you going to do?” I hear Ashley ask.

“I’m sorry, Ash. I have a tech guy here to fix my computer and I have to go.” I stand up and walk back toward my office.

“Fine,” Ashley huffs. “But you need to get your shit in order.”

“I will. Thanks, Ash.” I hang up. It’s the dose of reality that I needed.

I follow the tech guy, Randy, into my office. “I’m gonna show you what I found but—oh, looks like it logged you out.”

“No problem,” I enter my password and step aside as Randy settles into my desk chair. He pulls out a granola bar to munch on while my slow computer loads back up.

I flip to the text conversation on my phone with Liam from this morning.

My stomach clenches up as I reread his latest texts:

Is it normal to fantasize about your life coach?

My heart stopped when I received this and, after many minutes of toiling over a response, I replied:

Definitely not.

I watched the bubbles on the screen as he typed, waves of excitement rolling through me, until he replied:

Then I think I urgently need another session to… work through this.

Meet me for dinner?

The message made me chuckle and blush inwardly. Of course, I agreed. He said he’d send a car to the office for me after my workday at six thirty—which is ten minutes from now.

“Okay, ma’am,” Randy interrupts my thoughts. “If you’ll look here.” He points to a window on the screen. “I’ve updated your antivirus software. You had spyware on there, which I removed.” He says it so casually, but it triggers alarm bells in my head.

“Wait, my client files might have been compromised?” I ask, feeling the panic surge.

“It’s hard to say for sure, but it’s possible.”

A wave of nausea hits me. Randy keeps talking, but his words meld into an indistinct murmur. I've potentially breached my clients' privacy—their deepest fears, hopes, and most personal secrets could all be exposed because of me. Images of their faces flash through my mind, each one a specter warning of the crisis yet to unfold.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“If you’d like, I can keep tabs on your system remotely to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

“Um, yes,” I reply robotically, my whole body numb.

Randy senses my deep unease. “Ma’am, I’d recommend calling Tim. He’s Liam’s lawyer. You can ask him about legal steps to take with a potential leak of your confidential files.”

Oh, God—the legal implications too.

My heart sinks but I nod my head. “I spoke with him this morning about some issues with my ex.” I say it aloud without thinking and realize it’s probably an overshare with Randy the tech guy.

Randy frowns at me. “Does your ex have a reason to install spyware on your computer?”

A chill seizes me at the suggestion. Would Lucas do that?

“Um, maybe,” I choke out.

“Look, my buddy specializes in computer forensics.” Randy leans forward in my desk chair. “He can take a deeper look if you want.”

This is getting too crazy. I close my eyes briefly, trying to process everything. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get it checked out.”

“I’ll see if he can swing by on Monday.” Randy pushes himself up from the chair and offers his hand.

I manage a small smile and shake his hand. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It’s covered.”

Clearly, Liam covered it. Is this an employee—or employee-with-benefits—benefit? I wonder cheerlessly.

“Thank you,” I say.

As he leaves the office, I’m left standing beside my desk, enveloped by the quiet. The sun has dipped lower, the light flooding across the room. Soon, it will sink into the ocean.

I, too, feel like I’m sinking. My respectable, professional self is about to drown.

The theory that Lucas is behind this feels right. The simplest explanation is usually the right one. He hits me up for money, I refused him, and now my files might have been compromised? The timing of all this is too coincidental.

Things are blowing up with Lucas and they will, undoubtedly, blow up with Liam as well. It’s not Liam’s fault, but our messy relationship is a career killer in my line of work. People don’t want coaching from someone who is a hot fucking mess like me.

The money isn’t worth losing everything I’ve worked for.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out to find a text message from Liam:

I can’t wait to see you

My stomach clenches. My first reaction is skepticism, but this has to be true. There are no paparazzi monitoring his text messages. There’s no reason for him to lie about wanting to see me.

But what am I to him? An employee with benefits? Maybe even a friend with benefits?

I let out a long, slow breath, trying to release the tension in my shoulders.

I try to remind myself that Liam has a lot to work through. He is emotionally unavailable. He is making progress, but I am going to screw him up more if we continue to mix business and pleasure.

I need to resurrect the boundaries between us. For my sake and his. I decide against texting him back.

My phone buzzes again with another text message. It’s from Liam’s driver who says the car is downstairs.

I notice the top button of my white sleeveless shirt has come undone and I quickly fasten it. I’m glad I chose a conservative outfit today—my blue pastel lace skirt reaches below my knees. Although I look feminine and summery, my white loafers are perfectly business casual. No fuck-me-heels today.

I’m tempted to check myself in the bathroom mirror before I meet the driver downstairs, but I decide against it. I should be as unmade-up as possible. I’m an employee , I repeat in my mind, trying to form a new neural loop in my brain that I will not deviate from.

I tuck a brown curl behind my ear, steeling myself. I grab my purse and head downstairs.

In the parking lot, I freeze at the sight of the sleek, white Rolls Royce. A burly man in a suit stands by the car.

“Evening, Ms. Middleton,” he greets with a smile, holding the back passenger door open for me. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

This is too much. It all feels so foreign, but what did I expect? I am, after all, fake dating a billionaire.

I slide into the plush leather seat and check my phone again. Nothing more from Liam. He never mentioned where we were going to dinner, only that he wanted a dinner date.

But it truly makes no difference what we do tonight. Our photo will be snapped, and the ruse will continue as planned.

As I watch the blur of palm trees and busy tourist-lined sidewalks rush by the window, I resolve to talk to Liam about keeping things strictly professional from now on. The hand holding and other light forms of PDA are okay, but I’m not going to be some high-end hooker.

Is that what he thinks of me?

I almost want to cry. Our sex felt caring and tender and almost… loving. But I’ve never been one to engage in recreational sex. Maybe it is just business with sex on the side for him.

My mind is reeling, ticking off the clusterfucks again. I might have to go to court with my ex. He might have hacked my computer. My confidential client data could be compromised. My make-out pictures with Liam are plastered all over the tabloids. I had incredible, but completely irresponsible sex with my boss.

I’m a ball of nerves as the luxurious car glides toward the boat slips in Marina del Rey. I suspect we’re heading to one of the chic new waterfront restaurants. The sun is setting and the sky blazes with oranges and pinks. It’s breathtaking and undeniably romantic. Damn it, Liam.

I’m surprised when the car turns down a narrow road lined with docks and massive yachts—floating cities. Suddenly, the car stops.

But I don’t see Liam anywhere.

The driver hops out, rounds the car, and pulls my door open. I step out, smoothing down my lace skirt, and guess that Liam is taking me to some party on a yacht. But everything is quiet. I hear seagulls in the distance, but no music, no chatter of people.

“Ma’am, head past this yacht, then turn at the first dock on your right,” he instructs me.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, still thoroughly confused. I start following his directions, clutching my purse tightly out of sheer nerves, as I walk past the towering superyacht.

As I pass the rear of the yacht, I see the dock on my right. When I reach it, I turn and finally see him.

Liam.

He’s halfway down the dock, and he smiles brightly when he sees me.

I stop in my tracks, my breath catching.

Tulips. He’s holding a bouquet of red tulips. He remembered I told him about planting tulips with my mother. My hand shoots to my mouth, and I drop my purse but barely register it.

I feel tears well in my eyes.

I glance around, but I don’t see another soul in sight. There’s nowhere for the paparazzi to hide. It appears that we’re actually alone.

Liam looks effortlessly stylish in a dark navy button-up, the first couple of buttons undone, paired with light blue shorts cinched with a black belt. He’s boat-ready and so fucking hot.

I want to believe in this.

I want to buy into the fantasy.

I want Liam.

I catch his smile, forgetting all my doubts, and hurry toward him.

As I close the distance, his smile broadens, genuine and warm, and I know it can’t be a show.

He opens his arms to me, and I slip right inside as our lips lock. He kisses me fervently and I match his passion. I can’t get enough of him.

All my plans to set boundaries, be professional, stick to the script… they’ve gone out the window. The practical part of me completely evaporates. Right now, the only thing that matters is this moment. And it’s exhilarating.

When we break the kiss, he still holds me close, his arms wrapped around me. I admire his gorgeous features I gaze up into his soft brown eyes.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” I reply, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement.

Liam’s smile deepens. “If you don’t have other plans, how about a weekend cruise after dinner?”

“What?” I pull back, surprised by the sudden escalation from dinner to a weekend getaway. “I, um… don’t have anything packed.”

“Well, we have new toothbrushes and other essentials onboard.” He smooths a strand of hair behind my ear. He leans in, his voice a whisper, “I don’t think we’ll need pajamas.”

I feel a rush in my body at his suggestion.

Pretty confident in himself . But he has this power over me—maybe he knows it too—because I’m flushed and eager at the mere thought of a pajama-less night with him.

He grins, clearly amused by my reaction, as he hands me a bouquet of tulips.

“Thank you, these are beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replies with a soft smile, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “Stay here,” he instructs, before dashing over to retrieve my abandoned purse from the dock. I would have completely forgotten it; I’m so wrapped up in him.

I grin, holding the tulips close, taking in their sweet aroma as I watch him. This is like the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers” in a good way , I think . He’s so different from the man I first met. Surely an alien life form has taken over.

“Thank you,” I say again as he returns, draping my purse over my shoulder and reclaiming his spot beside me. We start to stroll down the dock, his arm snug around me.

“So, I don’t have any other clothes. I hope this isn’t leading to a nudist retreat,” I tease, trying to grasp his plans. This conversation has gone drastically different from how I’d planned.

“Just a retreat for two.” Liam chuckles. “Or, if you’d like, I can take you shopping once we get to Catalina.”

“Um—what?” I stop and turn to face him, surprised. I’ve always wanted to visit Catalina Island. And—shopping?

“Is this supposed to be a Pretty Woman remake or something?” I half-joke, scanning for people with cameras, but I don’t see anyone.

Liam smirks. “Well, we can do some roleplaying if you’re up for it.”

I feel my cheeks heat up under his gaze. I have no idea what to say in response. My loss for words only makes Liam’s grin widen.

“Come on.” He loops his arm around me once more, guiding me further down the dock. Ahead, stairs lead up to a massive yacht.

“This is your yacht?” I am astounded by the towering vessel—it looks to have at least three decks and spans the length of a football field.

“No, Bill is lending it to me,” he says casually, referring to the producer I met at the movie premiere.

“You say it like he’s loaning you a book,” I quip, raising an eyebrow. “So, who else is joining us?”

Though I hear no other voices, I’m sure there are other passengers hidden within the dozens of rooms on board.

Liam looks at me quizzically. “No one,” he responds, as if it should have been obvious.

“No one?” I halt just before the stairs, puzzled. “So, are we meeting people at Catalina then?” I guess, trying to make sense of the situation.

Liam tilts his head, his expression mirroring my confusion. “No, I hadn’t planned on that.”

“Oh, I thought this was going to be another celebrity party,” I explain. “I suppose we’ll get our picture taken when we’re out in public at Catalina, though,” I shrug, understanding now that the trip will surely be well-documented by people—maybe paparazzi—at Catalina Island.

I see my meaning click for Liam now, and he steps closer. “This isn’t about making an appearance for me, Chloe.” He cups my face gently, his thumb softly tracking my cheek. “We don’t even have to step off the boat unless you want to.”

“So, it’s just us?”

“We have a full crew, but we’re the only passengers,” he clarifies. “We won’t have another interruption.” I know he’s referencing our scramble to get dressed when the cleaning lady walked in.

A thrill races through me at his words. If this is just sex on the side for him, the pleasure-seeking part of me doesn’t care and is drooling at the thought of him, labels be damned. I want him, there’s no doubt about that. He sees my reaction and a sly grin spreads across his face.

“After you,” he says, nodding to the stairs.

On board, it’s astounding. It’s my first time on a yacht, but this is no ordinary yacht. It’s a floating luxury hotel. Liam keeps hold of my hand as he shows me around the lower level. The kitchen and bar area are sleek and open into a cozy seating zone. Steps lead down to the stern where another lounge and an infinity pool await.

I can’t contain my excitement. “This is incredible!” I exclaim, noticing the yacht gliding away from the dock, heading into the open harbor.

Liam laughs at my enthusiasm. “Ready for dinner?”

I nod eagerly, and he leads me up to the second deck.

A table for two is exquisitely set by the curving balcony at the stern. It’s dusk, and the sun has just dipped below the horizon, streaking the sky with oranges and pinks. The colors glitter across the ocean, creating a mesmerizing backdrop. Candles flicker on the wood plank floor that lines the curve of the balcony and at the center of the table.

The entire scene is breathtaking and unapologetically romantic.

I shake my head, turning toward him. “Liam, why did you do all this?” I blurt out the question, my voice filled with wonder and disbelief. My rational side is butting in, needing an explanation, something to clarify what the hell we are doing.

I adore all of this, but I don’t trust it.

“You’re my girlfriend.” Liam grins, shrugging.

My eyebrows knit together. That’s not an answer, and he damn well knows it. I’m his fake girlfriend, and he’s never told me otherwise.

I raise an eyebrow at him but decide to let it slide for the moment, choosing a playful response instead. “Are you trying out method acting now?”

Liam chuckles. “Something like that.”

He pulls a chair out for me, and I sit, still pleasantly surprised by his chivalry. No man from my past has ever been this considerate. Thank you, Olivia, for instilling such good manners.

As Liam sits across from me, a waiter appears out of nowhere with white wine. I accept a glass, but mentally vow to cut it off at two drinks tonight. I need to be clear-headed if I have any chance of making good decisions around Liam, especially since I’m technically still on the job.

To my surprise, Liam raises his glass in a toast as soon as our drinks are poured and the waiter leaves.

“To my beautiful girlfriend,” he declares, his smile warm and eyes earnest.

He really knows how to lay on the charm. What’s his game?

“Thank you.” I laugh nervously as we clink glasses. I take a modest sip. “And thank you for all of this.” I gesture around us—at our intimate table set on a glamorous yacht slicing through the waters toward a horizon painted purple and orange.

It really is unbelievable.

He returns a subdued smile. “How was your day today?”

His question catches me off guard. It’s so normal , contrasting with the surreal setting of our date.

Then it hits me— what if he’s practicing? This is a pretend relationship, so maybe he’s using it now to test out how to act, how to be in a relationship. He surely wouldn’t have fully realized it himself, but it could be a subconscious motive for this camera-free date. His hardened exterior has softened just enough that he’s ready to experiment with vulnerability, and I'm the perfect candidate for that.

As his employee, I pose no real emotional threat. I'm safe. I exist outside the boundaries of his real life.

The idea that I'm not just a fake girlfriend, but essentially a training wheel girlfriend, brings a mix of emotions. A twinge of sadness for myself, but also a sense of pride that Liam is finally taking steps to open up.

I decide to latch on to the latter emotion and play along, for him.

I take a breath. “Well, I had a couple of challenging clients.”

“More challenging than me?” He grins playfully.

“No, not by a long shot,” I respond with a light laugh.

Liam smiles, waiting for me to go on.

“They’re stuck repeating the same old patterns even though it’s making them miserable,” I explain, keeping details vague to protect their confidentiality.

“Well, they’re in good hands,” Liam suggests, the intensity in his gaze making me squirm.

“Hopefully I can help.” I take another sip from my glass.

Liam waits patiently for more. I know he’s using my own coaching techniques against me, drawing out more with silence.

I clear my throat. “The only other thing is that my ex might be spying on me,” I announce, then quickly take another sip of my wine, hoping to seem casual.

Liam's demeanor changes instantly. He sits up straighter, his face contorting with concern. “What?”

I frown, the reality of it still sinking in. “Your tech person found spyware on my computer. He suggested it might be my ex.”

“Did he say if he can find out?” Liam is tense now, even angry.

“Um, he said he’d get a friend of his, a forensic computer guy, to take a look on Monday,” I explain, trying to sound calm.

Liam’s expression hardens, his thoughts racing. “Is your computer at your office?”

“Yeah,” I reply, wondering where this is going.

“I’ll have someone take a look immediately.” Liam pulls out his phone.

“No, it’s okay,” I try to reassure him. This isn’t his problem.

He ignores my protest, dialing a number on his phone.

“Liam, no one can get into the building anyway. They don’t have the key,” I add, pulling my key card out of my purse to show him. It’s with us, in the middle of the ocean. Accessing the building is impossible without it.

I hear a male voice answer on Liam’s phone line.

Liam presses his lips together, his frustration evident, realizing nothing can be done sooner. “Randy, it’s Liam. Can you make sure your colleague visits Ms. Middleton first thing on Monday – this is about the hacking situation.”

Ms. Middleton? I admit Mr. Wright’s take-charge attitude is a turn-on.

“Thank you,” Liam says after receiving an affirmative from Randy and hangs up. He rubs his face. “Will you call me after your computer is checked out?” he asks, worry lines in his forehead. It just makes him even sexier somehow.

“Sure,” I agree just as the waiter arrives with a beautifully arranged plate of oysters.

Liam gives me a nod, satisfied to close the subject for now. “I hope you like oysters,” he says, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as if he’s seeking my approval.

“I do,” I smile, not missing the fact that he’s chosen a well-known aphrodisiac. I raise an eyebrow playfully. “But I’m suspicious that you’re trying to spike my dopamine levels, Mr. Wright.”

Liam’s smile takes on a mischievous edge. “Anything I can do to increase your pleasure, Chloe.”

I nearly choke on the oyster in my mouth. Oh fuck . I can’t resist this man. He should just swipe his arm to clear off the table and take me right here.

I take a beat and manage to swallow. I watch him slurp down an oyster, satisfied with himself.

The sky melds into shades of pink and purple as we leave the harbor, venturing into open water. The idea of moving away from the safety of the shore sends a thrilling flutter through my stomach. Liam and I are navigating uncharted waters, and it feels like we're drifting without an anchor.

A gentle breeze kisses my cheeks, and I take another sip of wine to steady my nerves.

“Chloe,” Liam begins seriously, shifting the mood. “I want to ask you something… personal.”

The way he says it makes my gut twist, the adrenaline rush both torturous and exhilarating.

“Um, okay,” I reply reluctantly, realizing it’s only fair. I’ve asked him to share plenty. I can at least hear out his question.

I busy myself by plucking out another oyster.

Liam clears his throat. “Chloe, have you been tested since your last partner?”

I pause with an oyster mid-air on the way to my mouth. My mouth stays open until I realize I’m gaping at him. I set down my fork and chuckle nervously.

I suppose it’s the responsible thing for him to ask. He wore a condom when we had sex, so he’d be mostly protected if I had anything, but not totally protected.

Does he think I wouldn’t tell him if he was at risk?

“Um, yes, after Lucas.” I put down the oyster. “I thought he was cheating and wanted to be extra sure I was okay,” I explain.

Liam appears to wince, almost imperceptibly.

“Everything is good.” I give him a small, awkward smile.

He nods and I can see his mind is still churning with thoughts.

“How about you?” I ask, throwing the question back at him.

“Yes, I’m healthy too,” Liam assures me. “Do you take birth control?” His tone is casual, almost a transactional tone.

A nervous chuckle escapes me. “Is some Fifty Shades arrangement about to happen here?” I take another sip of my wine.

He gives me a confused look. “No, I don’t want to pull out the whips or anything.”

I can’t help but giggle. “Okay, I don’t think I’d like that.” I smirk. “But I meant that the guy arranged for her to go on birth control.”

“Oh, I never saw or read it,” he explains, and I suppose that makes sense. He’s not the reading a book on a Saturday morning type of guy. His voice seems to grow quieter. “I’m not going to arrange for you to go on birth control. I’m just wondering if you’re taking it.”

Why is he asking? We used a condom. Did he notice it ripped but didn’t tell me?

“Um, yeah, I have an IUD,” I tell him.

Just then, the waiter returns to clear our appetizer plates, the oysters now finished. I can't help but wonder if he overheard us—it's an awkward moment for him to arrive.

Liam thanks the waiter, yet his eyes remain fixed on me. He’s waiting to say something, and the pause is palpable as we listen to the waiter’s footsteps recede.

Liam leans in, looking at me intensely. “Chloe, I don’t want to pressure you into anything. But I want you.”

The way he’s looking at me has my insides doing somersaults. His gaze is unwavering.

He wants me.

Liam’s voice is low. “And I don’t want a barrier between us,” he explains.

Oh fuck. I feel arousal building in my body.

“What?” I ask, my voice suddenly soft. I get his meaning, but I want him to say it.

“I want to feel you,” he says huskily. Excitement rushes through my whole body at his words.

The thought of our sex being just us, no condom, skin-to-skin, is really fucking hot.

“If you are comfortable with that, of course,” he adds, always giving me an out.

I’ve never been with a man without a condom. I’ve also never told another man that I have an IUD—no man has ever asked. In the back of my mind, I never fully trusted that Lucas wasn’t sleeping around and collecting a petri dish of diseases. I always made him wear a condom.

“Um…” I hesitate. It’s such a weird dinner conversation, but it’s got my heart racing.

Suddenly, Liam is sliding an envelope across the table to me.

What the hell?

I have no idea where the envelope even came from.

“What is this?” I eye Liam suspiciously. Is it a contract? More money? Is he trying to pay me extra for condomless sex? I try to reel my mind in from jumping to conclusions.

“For you to review,” Liam nods to the envelope, signaling me to open it. This feels like a business transaction.

Oh, shit. It’s some kind of contract.

I frown and tear open the envelope, extracting the paperwork inside. I unfold the thick document and try to figure out what I’m looking at.

It’s a medical document—lab results.

All sorts of diseases are listed in one column with results in the neighboring column. All the results are negative.

Liam’s name and social security number are on the top, and I notice the date.

“You got tested today?” My eyes flick to his, surprised.

“I’ve included lab tests from a couple of months ago too, if you flip a few pages.” He glances at the packet in my hands.

I scrunch up my face, turning the pages. He’s clearly had extensive testing and he’s healthy, like he said.

“I’ve never had anyone show me their STI results before.” I chuckle awkwardly.

“Well, you should see it. I want you to know you’re safe.” He looks at me earnestly.

Part of me feels like this is overboard and strange, but maybe it’s because no man has ever been this prepared and thorough.

I set the papers down on the table and grab my phone out of my purse.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking concerned.

I unlock my phone and open a browser tab. “Pulling up my results. They’re from several months ago, though.”

I feel it's only fair to return the favor, to reassure him that he’s also safe.

Surprise flickers across his face. “You don’t have to do that Chloe. I trust you.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “Why? You have trust issues, don’t you?” I tease him gently with a smirk.

He leans back in his chair, shrugging. “I don’t think you’d lie to me.”

“Oh, no?” I challenge him playfully as I log into my patient account.

“No, I don’t,” he asserts confidently, his tone suggesting he can see right through me. It leaves me feeling exposed yet excited under his piercing gaze.

I find the results from four months ago and hand him my phone, needing the distraction. “I got tested after my last time with my ex and haven’t been with anyone until… you.”

Liam scrolls through the results for a few moments, then hands my phone back with a polite smile.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, looking at me intently, his gaze filled with a thinly veiled desire that suddenly makes my breath catch.

What do I think? His proposition of barrier-free sex has my heart racing. He’s talking about being completely connected physically.

It’s an intimacy I’ve never shared with anyone.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want this with him. I’m completely turned on by the thought of us being fully naked with each other. But this isn’t just enhanced physical intimacy—my emotions are inseparable from this, and removing all the barriers means I’m at greater risk of getting hurt.

Aren’t I just his training wheel girlfriend?

Footsteps approach again—the waiter. This guy has terrible timing.

Liam offers me a small smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You really need to stop saying that,” I remind him quietly, just as the waiter arrives with giant plates of crab legs.

Liam catches my eye, looking surprised by my correction. I’m surprised myself at how quickly he seemed to back off from his proposal.

I shift my attention to the bright red crustaceans set in front of us. “Wow.” Liam really went all out—or maybe this is normal for him, I wonder.

As the waiter places salads and a bowl of fresh, warm rolls on the table, I observe Liam. He appears perfectly at ease, unbothered by the possibility that I might decline his offer. I don’t feel pressured by him, and it makes me more inclined to accept.

But I won’t do this unless I’m his only partner. This needs to be monogamous for me to feel safe—physically and emotionally.

“I’ll only agree if you can guarantee exclusivity,” I state, as if we are casually working out a business arrangement.

Liam’s eyes widen, darting to the waiter who is refilling his water glass, clearly taken aback that I would carry on our conversation in front of someone else.

Regaining his composure, Liam smiles and leans into our veiled discussion. “I’ll make that guarantee, but it goes both ways.”

“Of course,” I respond without hesitation.

“Then you have a deal,” he grins, sealing our agreement.

I feel my cheeks heat as the waiter finally walks away, leaving us alone again. Liam doesn’t take his eyes off me.

The sky is a deep shade of blue now, the sun nearly completely gone for the day. Candlelight dances across Liam’s features, accentuating how devilishly handsome he is. The slight breeze tousles his dark hair and the flame from the candle shimmers in his brown eyes.

We’ve just agreed to enter a condomless, monogamous sexual partnership.

I can already feel the rational part of me percolating a million questions— Is this a real relationship now? Am I still an employee? What does this mean to him?

But I quickly shut out that part of my mind. I don’t want to ruin a good thing by overanalyzing it to death—a hazard of the job. I want this. My gut tells me this is right. This feels right.

So, I’m going to do it.

Fuck the training wheels.

I bite my lower lip and smile. Liam continues to watch me, a slight tilt lifting the corners of his lips.

“So, how was your day?” I ask, shifting the topic so suddenly it’s almost humorous as I nonchalantly pick up my crab leg cracker and start working on the enormous crustacean in front of me. He asked about my day earlier, so it’s only polite to ask about his.

Liam chuckles softly. “Well, after my lab tests…” His gaze briefly flicks to the stack of medical results still lying on the table. “I went for a run, then had a few meetings. We’re in the process of acquiring an indie production company,” he shares, deftly extracting crab meat from a leg and popping it into his mouth.

“Oh, what kind? Another horror film company?” I raise an eyebrow curiously.

“Yes, actually.”

“Do you really like them—horror movies?” I probe, genuinely curious how he could like all the blood, guts, and torture.

“They’re cheap and popular.” He shrugs, cracking open another crab leg. “People like the adrenaline rush.”

“Romance movies can give you the same rush,” I counter.

“Sure,” Liam agrees, pausing his meal. “I suppose if your heart is racing, you have goosebumps and butterflies in your stomach…” He studies me as if observing those very symptoms on me at that moment, and my stomach tightens reflexively. “It could be fear or love.”

His gaze intensifies, drilling into me. The way he’s looking at me—the fact that he said the “L” word—I feel a surge of adrenaline and warmth flood my cheeks.

Why does he have this effect on me?

I clear my throat. “Um, I meant—do you like them personally?” He gave me his business answer before, and I need another question to move on from this intense moment—the knot in my stomach is winding too tight.

“I do like some of them.” He nods, his voice no longer dripping with subtext. “It’s about facing death and survival,” he explains, pausing to really consider his words. “For me, they’re a reminder that all the trivial things don’t matter in the end. We should focus on what’s truly important.” His eyes meet mine, holding my gaze for a long moment and I let him.

Okay, maybe there is some subtext now. Is he implying that I’m important to him?

A faint smile plays on Liam’s lips, and I realize he understands how he is mentally mind-fucking me and it must be darkly amusing to him.

“That’s pretty deep for a business mogul,” I quip, raising an eyebrow, trying to break the tension.

“I have a softer side, Chloe,” he claims with a half-smile. “I even dabble in writing poetry.”

I laugh, unable to tell if he’s joking. “Really? Can I hear some?”

“Maybe someday.” He chuckles. “So, romance movies are your favorite then?” He steers the conversation back to me.

“I’d say so.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he probes, seemingly eager for details.

“Oh, easy.” I smile. “Anything with Charles Day and Lana Hartt.” They’ve made several romance movies together and they’re all drool-worthy.

“Charlie’s a good guy.” Liam nods, seeming to approve of my taste.

“Wait—you know him?”

“We go golfing together,” Liam explains.

“Oh, wow. Charlie Day? ” My eyes go wide.

Liam laughs, amused by my reaction.

I knew Liam was a big shot, but I didn’t realize the extent of his A-list circle. Yet he acts like it’s no big deal to golf with the most in-demand actor in Hollywood.

“He’s a high handicapper,” Liam adds with a wink, as if letting me in on a secret.

“Any truth to the rumors about him and Lana dating for real?” I shamelessly dig for an inside scoop.

Liam chuckles. “I think they should date for real. They’re good together.” His gaze is piercing, and I read a double meaning in his subtext that makes my skin tingle.

“They do,” I agree. “From their movies, anyway.” I glance down at my half-eaten salad bowl and absentmindedly push a piece of spinach around with my fork.

“What do you like about them?” Liam inquires, genuinely interested.

“Romance movies?” I clarify, and he nods.

His question gives me pause. It’s a good one, and I realize I’ve never tried to articulate why I love romance movies.

“Well…” I begin, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “I guess I want to believe in that kind of love.” I shrug, curious to see his reaction.

He offers a small smile. “The kind where people run through airports?”

“And kiss in the rain,” I add. Those moments would indeed be wonderful.

“Well, I’m screwed—not much rain in LA,” he jokes, feigning disappointment.

I chuckle, but as I meet his gaze, I detect a seriousness behind his lighthearted comment.

The questions creep in. Screwed with women in general? Or with me?

Just then, I hear footsteps and turn to see the waiter approaching us. This time, I’m glad for the interruption. Trying to decode the deeper meaning behind Liam’s words is dizzying.

Liam frowns as he notices the waiter’s return. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting him so soon.

“Sorry for the interruption, sir,” the waiter says, and I notice his name tag—Robert. He hands Liam a note and folds his hands in front of him, evidently waiting for some direction.

Liam's jaw is tight as he reads whatever is written. I fiddle with my fork, moving around the salad in my bowl, wondering what the note could say.

The light breeze from the ocean is surprisingly warm. Stars have appeared in the sky and there is no moon in sight.

We’re miles off the coast now, lights from the shore twinkling far away, and nothing but black with a few dots of light from other boats surrounding us. It makes it seem like we’re on our own planet.

Liam sighs as he hands the note back to Robert. “Tell her I’ll call her in the morning. I’m not available tonight,” he states firmly.

Robert nods and quickly departs.

Her?

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“The owner of that horror production company might back out of the acquisition,” he reveals. I can see his thoughts churning, and I wonder what he’s not saying.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“ I’m sorry—I didn’t want any interruptions.” His voice is low, and his gaze holds mine.

It makes my cheeks flush.

“So, what do your friends and family think about us?” he asks, his smile curious. “Maybe they’ve seen the tabloids, or have you told them?” He takes a sip of water, watching my reaction closely.

“Um…” I hesitate, caught off guard by his question. “Well, I haven’t had a chance to tell my father yet,” I start. “He’s doing business in London, so it’s sometimes hard to catch him with the time difference. And my brother and I aren’t on the best terms now because my ex is his best friend, and he didn’t exactly choose my side when my ex and I broke up,” I admit, trying to dismiss the sudden sadness that tugs at me.

“I’m sorry,” Liam responds softly.

I nod and decide to continue. “But… some of my friends know. Most think it’s really amazing that we’re ‘dating.’” I use air quotes for dating, which causes Liam to momentarily frown.

Ashley and I still catch up regularly with a group of girlfriends from college. They were sending me gushing text messages about my relationship with Liam when it hit the news.

“Well, I’m glad most do.” He smiles only briefly before lines cross his forehead. “I hope our being together hasn’t complicated any of your relationships if someone in your life disapproves.” He says it like a statement, but I know he’s asking me a question.

Ashley . She’s the only one who knows the truth and who thinks this is going to blow up in my face.

I realize Liam doesn’t know Ashley, or that she’s aware of our arrangement. Suddenly, I feel like I’m hiding something from him. But then I remind myself—I never agreed to keep this arrangement a secret from everyone in my life.

“No, it hasn’t messed up any relationships,” I answer carefully, but honestly. “My best friend Ashley is the only one who’s been skeptical. But she’s just worried I’m going to get hurt… with you being a big-time celebrity and all,” I add with a smirk, trying to lighten the conversation.

His lips twitch up into a smile. “Well, maybe I can reassure her someday.”

I return the smile, but confusion tugs at me again. How can he reassure her? Isn’t this a short-term deal with an already-scheduled break-up?

My mind is aflutter with doubt and questions, but my body and emotions are responding as if this is all real. As if he won’t hurt me. As if I am only watching a movie and can enjoy all the delicious thrills without the real risk of having my heart painfully cut out at the end.

Before I can formulate a response, the sound of footsteps cuts through our lingering, tension-filled moment.

Liam’s expression hardens as he notices Robert heading our way with swift strides.

“Sir, I apologize.” Robert holds out another note.

This guy’s timing is beyond terrible.

What the hell could be so important?