“I was supposed to have a meeting with Ana?” the girl asks. Fuck, what’s her name? I know it started with an M.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” Ana tells her, gesturing to the empty chair beside me.
What the hell is going on? I furrow my brows at her, but she just looks back at the girl, waiting for her to sit down on the chair beside me. The metal legs scrape against the floor as she tries to put more distance between us. I let out a scoff. The feeling’s mutual,princesa.
I glance toward her, my eyes drifting to her outfit. Last time she was in a short little dress, but this time she’s in a dark grey suit with a black blouse, and some heels, of course.
Fuck, she looks good.
I quickly snap my head away, my jaw clenching in annoyance for even thinking it. She might be smoking hot, but if she’s here, then that can only mean one thing. She’s here for fame.
I knew it was too good to be true. I really thought the girl didn’t know me back in the elevator, that she didn’t want anything from me.
I guess I was wrong.
“Can you just get on with it?” I ask Ana, wanting to get the fuck out of here. “The quicker you tell me why she’s here, the quicker I can say no.”
The girl narrows her eyes at me. “I was told I had a meeting about an opportunity,” she says, turning to face Ana. “What does that have to do with him?”
I let out a laugh. “Listen, Mandy—”
“Madeline,” she corrects.
Madeline. Of course. I remember thinking it was a pretty name, that it suited her. “Right. Well, the thing is, I’m sure the opportunity that Ana was talking about haseverythingto do with me. And I bet you already know that.”
Her brows furrow deeper. “What are you talking about?”
I shake my head. Ana always does this. Sets me up with girls so the paparazzi can take a few quick pictures and post their usual bullshit. I never get photographed with the same girl twice, though, so I’m really fucking confused about why this girl is here. We already made front page news with that picture of us from last week.
“Why don’t I clear some things up,” Ana says, intertwining her hands in front of her. “I’m Lucas’ agent. I help him with booking him gigs, and—”
“I’m sure she knows what an agent is,” I say dryly. “Can you just get on with it?”
Ana pins her interlocked hands in front of her. “I’m sure both of you are aware of the press going around with your names.”
More than fucking aware. My mom saw those pictures. She’s always chastising me for going along with this stupid plan, thinking I’m only doing this to get more fame. Couldn’t give a fuck about that. I just care about making money so that my mom doesn’t have to kill herself working two jobs anymore. It’s the whole reason why I started modeling in the first place.
“And I’m sure you guys are wondering why we asked you both to come here today,” she continues.
I sure as fuck am.
“The picture of you guys last week blew up. And the comments…” She shakes her head. “They’re immense. People loved seeing you two together, specifically the story that the paparazzi decided to spin.”
How she’s my secret girlfriend. Yeah, fucking right.
“I have a proposition for you two.” Ana eyes me, and I know where she’s going with this before she even opens her mouth.
“No.”
Madeline looks at me with a frown, and Ana sighs, shaking her head. “Lucas—”
“No,” I repeat. “I am not having a fake relationship with her. No fucking way.”
“What?” Madeline asks, her eyes wide in shock as her head snaps to look at Ana.
Ana has mentioned this before. She told me people enter fake relationships for publicity all the time. But when she saw the reactions people had with random girls I got photographed with, she figured the single player who sleeps with a new girl every night would be way more beneficial, so that’s what we went with. But now she tells me she wants to ‘change my image’ and brings in the girl who the press is claiming is mysecret girlfriend. I should have known where this was going when she first walked in.
Ana glances at me. “Have you checked the comments?”
