Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You said she was downstairs,” Ethan pressed.
I laughed, pushing away from the table. “Okay, I will,” I said. “And then you’re all going to wipe those smug looks off your faces.”
My friends laughed as I headed out of the room and into the elevator that would take me down to the club level of the hotel. It was one of NYC’s most popular hotspots for nightlife after all—which is why I’d bought this building a few years ago.
The elevator doors glided open, and I stepped out, immediately entrenched in thumping music and muted lighting. The elevator was roped off and guarded for me and my guests only, and the bouncer nodded toward me as I headed past him.
“Girlfriend, girlfriend,” I muttered to myself as I navigated through the throngs of people dancing, drinking, or sitting in booths lining the walls. I scanned the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, who would play the role for me.
I mean, how hard could it really be to get a girlfriend, anyway?
“They don’t have any snacks here?” a light voice whined from beside me as I rounded the bar. “Ugh. What kind of place did you drag me to, Jesse?”
Damn, the woman in question was gorgeous, with emerald green hair with lighter green streaks that framed the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. She had full lips that were in the cutest pout as she stared up at an extremely tall, dark-haired guy. She had stunning hazel eyes that made her look almost otherworldly with all the gold shimmering in them, but she wore a casual black sparkly romper and well-worn sneakers that screamed innocent to me.
“Um, only the hottest, hard-to-get-into club in the city? You’re welcome,” her friend Jesse said.
“Okay, fair,” she said. “But I’m hungry. I don’t care how exclusive the club is, there should always be a food option.”
I laughed, totally shook by the knockout currently food-shaming my club.
She looked behind her and up, her eyes meeting mine before she spun back around.
“Excuse me,” I said, remembering why I was here in the first place. “This is going to sound strange,” I continued once I gained her attention, “but would you like to earn ten thousand dollars for thirty minutes of your time?”
“More power to you,” she said, shaking her head. “But I’m not a worker.”
I blinked a few times, shock blazing through me at that response—first, by her assuming I thought she was a sex worker, and second, by the chillness in which she’d responded.
It made me laugh.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” I said. “I need someone to pretend to be my girlfriend to prove a point to my friends. Ten grand. No questions asked.”
“Wait, what?” She fully turned around to face me, shock coloring her features.
“I’m serious. Are you in?”
“I…”
“Who the hell are you?” her friend asked, stepping up to her side. He was almost as tall as me, draped in some serious clothes I knew Bristol would love to take a closer look at.
“Fuck,” I said. “Are you two together?” I wasn’t about to start a fight over this.
“No,” she quickly answered.
“Babe,” he said, lowering his voice. “This is a line. He’s not serious—”
I pulled out the cash I kept in my pocket on game nights, showing her how serious I was.
“Holy shit,” Jesse said. “I take that back.”
“Ohmigod,” she said looking from the money to me and back again. “Are you that desperate for a fuck?”
I blinked at hearing the word come from such a light voice, a jolt of heat spearing down my spine. “I don’t want to fuck you,” I said, then tilted my head. “That’s not to say I wouldn’t take you up on the offer, but for now, I just want you to be my girlfriend for half an hour.”
Jesus, it sounded as awful in my head as out of it.
“Cash first,” Jesse spoke on her behalf, and she smacked his stomach. He laughed, sipping from his drink. “What, girl, don’t turn the universe down when it’s trying to give you a gift wrapped in a hot-as-sin package. I mean, come on, he looks like the duke from the first season of Bridgerton. Be a duchess for a minute,” he teased her.
I pursed my lips, nodding my thanks to him.
“Time really is of the essence here,” I said.
“Why?” she asked, looking at me skeptically.
“I’m in the middle of a very important poker game upstairs, and my friends don’t believe I have a girlfriend and I want to prove them wrong.”
“By buying one?”
I shrugged. “Desperate times.”
She laughed, and I couldn’t stop the smile that shaped my lips at the sound.
“Why me?” she asked, glancing around the packed club. “There are tons of women—”
“Ah, but none of them have your eyes,” I said. “I’m a sucker for all those gold flecks wrapped in green,” I continued, glancing at her hair. “So is your hair,” I said, and my fingers itched to feel if the strands were as soft as they looked.