Page 12 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“What the fuck?” Mickey growls, agitatedly running his hand through his white, messy waves. It feels good to have someone else be annoyed on my behalf. “That shit can’t be legal.”

I shrug because I don’t know whether it’s legal or not. “Doesn’t matter since I agreed to it.”

Soren’s lips pull upward in a twisted smile. “So Mr. Fuck-Her-And-Leave is suddenly going to have a relationship.”

“Fake relationship.” I feel the need to clarify.

“Well, hell. This season suddenly got more interesting.” Mickey tips his head in Soren’s direction. “Should we take bets on how long it lasts before our boy here fucks it up?”

“I feel like giving him one week is generous. Ten days.” Turning to me, Soren clarifies. “I added the extra three because we’re friends.”

“Fuck you, man.” There’s zero heat in my tone. Their banter is exactly what I need. “I’ll ace this fake relationship shit. How hard can it be, anyway? If Henry, Peter, and Danny can do it, so can I.”

“Have you thought about asking them for advice?” Mickey suggests. “Because whatever they’re doing seems to be working, and you’re not exactly…”

I bark out a laugh. “Seriously, I can fake it like the best of them. I only have to pretend I care in public. It’s not like I need to get to know her for real.”

“Are you sure about that?” Soren scratches his chin as he looks at me. “You know how personal the reporters like to get. They’re going to ask you shit like where you met, what her favorite flower is, and all sorts of shit. You need to know the answers to that.”

Well… fuck.

How hadn’t I considered that? I don’t want to get to know whoever the GM picks for me. I just want to pose in public, smile, and wind my arm around her. I don’t care if she’s a dog or cat person. If she prefers… well, any-fucking-thing.

“Maybe you can get by without knowing all that shit,” Mickey suggests, reading my slumped shoulders perfectly. “I mean, you’re still you. So, can’t you spin it so you’re still a commitment-phobe in public or something? Chicks love being the one to change a guy, so if you tell people—”

“How exactly will that improve his image?” Soren challenges. “People need to see the change to believe it. I don’t think there are any shortcuts here.”

I fucking hate that he’s right. “I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Mickey asks.

“No,” I answer honestly. “I fucking know I can’t. But what choice do I have?”

“Wow,” Soren says, reaching for his beer. “So, is that why we’re here? Do we need to find you a—”

I bark out a laugh. “You really think they’d leave that decision up to me? Tom is going to pick someone from the PR department to be my doting girlfriend.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Tom.

Tom Redding: There’s no point in waiting until Monday. I’ve picked Lucia Carter to be your publicity girlfriend.

I make a face and show the text to the other two. “Guess it’s official,” Soren says with a shrug.

“Could be a lot worse,” Mickey adds. “Lucia is fucking hot.”

“Like that matters,” I say. “But yes, she is.” There’s no point in denying it when we’ve all checked her out at one point or another.

Lucia’s like one of those items you see on a shopping channel. She’s flawless, poised, and beautiful—the whole package. But with no chinks in her armor, she’s too damn perfect, which is something I don’t trust. She always wears the right thing, says the right thing, and just… there’s no personality to be detected whatsoever.

“Maybe you’ll finally find out what she’s really like,” Soren offers, like he heard my thoughts.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say dryly. “We have a role to play, that’s all. As long as we do it convincingly, I don’t need anything else from her.”

“Exactly how convincing do you need to be?” Mickey asks. “Like, do you need to get engaged? What about marriage?”

I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.”

Soren tilts his head to the side, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe save that for your Hail Mary if you need it.”

Shaking my head, I ignore them. I’m not getting fucking married, ever.

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