Chapter 5

The air in the backseat was thick enough to chew on. The city blurred past the tinted glass, all steel and motion and noise, but inside it was just silence. My brain was still trying to process the fact that Teddy Fox had just offered to buy me a lifetime in exchange for pretending to be the center of his world.

I took a slow, deep breath, like maybe oxygen would help my decision-making skills. It didn't. "I need some time to think about it," I said finally. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "The pay's tempting... obviously, but I'm not exactly used to agreeing to... whatever this is... in the middle of traffic."

His gaze slid over to me, sharp and assessing. "You have until the end of the day."

I blinked. "End of the day?"

"Tomorrow morning," he amended, but his tone didn't soften. "When you walk into the office, I want your answer."

I wanted to laugh at the arrogance... like I didn't have a whole life outside of his empire that might factor into a decision like this, but I didn't. Because Teddy Fox wasn't bluffing. If I said no tomorrow, he'd drop it. And then he'd find someone else to fill the role before lunch.

The car slowed in front of my building. He didn't say anything else. Just looked out his window as the driver came around to open my door. That was Teddy's version of goodbye: silent dismissal with a side of implied deadline.

I stepped out, clutching my bag like a shield, and walked up the cracked steps to my apartment. By the time I unlocked the door, I could already hear Bianca yelling from the living room.

"Finally!" she called. "Do you know what time it is? I've been..." She stopped dead when she saw my face. "Oh my God. What happened? You look like you saw Jesus and he told you you're on the waiting list for Heaven."

I kicked off my shoes. "Bianca...."

"No. Don't even warm me up with small talk. Spill." She was perched on the couch in pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt, hair piled in a bun that was one hairpin away from collapse. Her laptop was open on the coffee table, surrounded by the graveyard of two empty coffee mugs and a bag of chips.

I dropped my bag on the armchair and sat. "You're not going to believe this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Bitch, you work for Teddy Fox. I'll believe anything."

So I told her. Every word. The lunch. The declaration. The car ride. The proposal.

She listened like I'd just recited the Book of Revelations, her mouth slowly falling open until—halfway through the part about pretending to be his lover... she slapped both hands over her face and made this muffled scream that probably made the neighbors think she'd just stepped on a nail.

And then she did it.

She fainted.

Or, more accurately, she performed a dramatic, slow-motion slide off the couch onto the rug like some Victorian widow hearing bad news about the war.

"Hey..."

She threw an arm over her forehead. "I can't. I literally cannot. You are living the fanfic I've been waiting for my entire life."

I rolled my eyes. "You're insane."

"You're insane," she shot back, bolting upright with zero sign of her so-called fainting spell. "Why didn't you say yes instantly?"

"Because..."

"No. No 'because.' You're telling me Teddy Fox is offering to pay you, pay you... to fake-date him, and you didn't immediately sign in blood?"

I dragged a hand down my face. "Bianca, it's complicated. It's not just dates. It's press, it's the Harrigans, it's...."

"It's money," she interrupted, eyes glittering like a woman seeing her reflection in a diamond display. "Jill. Babe. My darling best-friend. Do you know what that means? That means I get to quit my job and become your glamorous dependent."

I stared at her. "This is not about you."

"It's entirely about me," she said without shame. "You are my retirement plan. Don't you dare ruin this."

I laughed, but there was no real humor in it. "You're impossible."

"I'm practical," she countered. "Listen to me. You don't think about the drama, or the press, or the soul-sucking rich-people politics. You think about the endgame. The payout. The freedom. The fact that you will never have to eat cereals in a hoodie while your neighbor upstairs has loud sex again."

I folded my arms. "You do realize he's the kind of man who could ruin my life with one sentence, right?"

She smirked. "And he's also the kind of man every woman wants to ruin her life. He's hot, he's rich, he's power walking in human form, and bonus, he already picked you. You've got leverage, babe."

I hated that she made a good point. "Still," I muttered.

"Still nothing. You're doing this," she declared, like she was the executive decision-maker in my life. "But first...." Her expression shifted into something disturbingly calculating. "We need to find out exactly how much he's paying you."

I gave her a look. "Why?"

"So I can calculate my percentage," she said without hesitation. "Twenty percent feels fair since I'm your emotional support human."

I threw a pillow at her. She dodged it and grinned. "Think about it. You say yes, you play the part, you keep your eyes on the prize. You can even start practicing now... smoldering glances, fake giggles, maybe a public 'oops we're holding hands' moment. I'll coach you."

God help me, I could already picture it, Bianca standing over me like a drill sergeant while I tried to fake being into Teddy Fox in the mirror.

"Don't overthink this," she said, leaning forward. "Just don't screw it up. And text me the number when you get it."

I shook my head, muttering something about her being insane, but the truth was I didn't sleep much that night. My brain kept flipping the offer over like a coin... heads, it's your ticket out. Tails, it's the fastest way to torch your entire life.

By morning, I still hadn't decided. But I knew one thing... I needed to see him. Needed to look him in the eye before I said yes or no.

I walked into Fox Global just before nine, coffee in one hand, nerves in the other. The place was buzzing like always... phones ringing, heels clicking, the scent of ambition and overpriced cologne in the air.

I rounded the corner toward Teddy's office and stopped dead.

He was there. Behind his desk. And he wasn't alone.

The woman standing beside him was all sleek lines and cold beauty, her hair a perfect, glossy wave. She leaned in, saying something I couldn't hear, her hand resting lightly on the edge of his desk like she owned a piece of it.

I didn't need an introduction. I knew exactly who she was.

Mabel Harrigan.