The VIP Room(147)

"Kat Wilder," he says.

"So you know my last name--so what?"

"Your parents died three years ago. You live with your sister in an apartment in Brooklyn. There should be about ten years on the mortgage. And since you're working here, I'm guessing you didn't inherent all that much."

"What's your point?" I snap.

"There's no way you can afford to support yourself on your salary here. You sister is eighteen-"

"Don't f*cking talk about my sister."

"Okay. Let's leave her out of this."

Again, he motions for me to sit. I do.

Blake speaks in a calm, even voice. "You're twenty-one. No college education. No safety net. You need money, and you don't have many options."

"And?"

"It would be a difficult job, but nothing you can't do."

"I'm not a whore."

"I wouldn't pay for sex. That would be because you want me." He brushes his hand against the inside of my knee.

My breath catches in my throat. "No, I..."

"It wasn't a question." He leans closer. "I want you, too."

"But..." My heart thuds. That flutter is in full affect. It's ridiculous. I don't even know the guy but the thought of him wanting me... I'm on fire.

"You'd be playing a part. My loving girlfriend. All of that would be fake. The two of us, alone together, that would be real."

"I don't know how to be a pretend girlfriend." I wipe my palms on my jeans. "I don't even know how to be a real girlfriend."

He stares at me, studying me. "You're perfect. I'm willing to negotiate if you're interested."

"No, I couldn't." I break away from his gaze but I'm still hot all over. Stand up. Step back. Like I'm almost done with work.

"Take a few days. Consider it."

I shake my head. It's ridiculous. Absurd even. Blake Sterling, super-hot billionaire CEO, can get any girl he wants. He doesn't need to pay someone to be his pretend girlfriend.





Chapter 2





At home, I spend half an hour doodling in my sketchbook. Before the accident, I shelved my thoughts of studying art or design for something that would please my parents. Funny, at the time that seemed like the worst thing in the world. Now, I'd kill for the chance to study something practical.

My drawing is decent but not great. I'll need some serious focus if I want any kind of career as an artist. And school won't exactly come cheap.

I close the sketchbook and slide it to the back of my desk.

Would it really be so bad playing his girlfriend? Difficult, maybe, but worth if I could pay off the mortgage and pay for Lizzy's school. God, I can't even imagine what it would feel like to finally be able to breathe again.

Blake Sterling. Sterling Tech CEO. Owner, too. I looked him up, using Google instead of his search engine. He created his company as a teen. Was offered millions for it but decided he'd rather run it himself. And he did, all while attending Columbia. He's twenty-six now.

He's willing to negotiate.

But there's no way he'd pay off the entire mortgage and finance Lizzy's degree.

He can't be that generous.

But it can't hurt to ask.

Kat: It's Kat. I'm considering your offer but I'm not particularly negotiable.

Blake: Send me your address and I'll send a limo. Anytime. I'm at the office all night.

Deep breath. Here goes nothing.

I send my address.



* * *



Exactly thirty minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Lizzy beats me to it. She stares quizzically at a man in a suit.

"Uh, Kat, what are you doing?"

"It's complicated. Fill you in later."

She spins to face me. Takes in my formal dress and flats--the only nice outfit I own--and raises an eyebrow.

"Do all your homework," I say.

"It's done."

"Then clean your room or something." I nod to the guy in the suit. The driver Blake mentioned. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kat."

We shake. "Jordan. Right this way, Miss Wilder." He holds the door open for me.

"Just Kat is fine." My phone buzzes in my purse. Lizzy, no doubt. I'd explain if I knew what I was explaining.

Jordan walks me to a limousine. It's a sleek, black thing, shiny and new.

I run my fingers over the fiberglass. Ah, the feel of money. There is something intoxicating about it.

He opens the door for me. "Watch your head, Miss, I mean, Kat."

It's more amazing inside. Bench seats in soft leather, a mini bar, a tiny TV. Jordan shuts the door and slides into the driver's seat.

"Help yourself to any refreshments. That grey button between the seats will roll up the partition if you'd like some privacy."

No doubt Blake makes use of this privacy all the time.

No doubt, if I agree, he'll make use of the privacy with me.

I grip the thick leather seats in an attempt to calm down. They're too smooth. My fingers slide right off.

I text Lizzy.

Kat: It's a date. No big deal.

Lizzy: In a limo? Not buying that story. Fess up.