Page 30 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“So... Lucia,” Sawyer had started, his voice bored as he fiddled with the menu. “How’s your day been?”

I had forced a smile, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “It’s been... fine. How about yours?”

Sawyer had shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah, it’s been okay. Just the usual stuff, you know?”

My heart sank at his lackluster response, the weight of our fabricated relationship suddenly feeling heavier than I’d prepared myself for. “Right, yeah. The usual stuff,” I had echoed, my voice barely above a whisper. I kept looking around, feeling like we were being watched. But no one seemed to pay us much attention.

As the waiter approached, we both tensed, the awkwardness between us growing with each passing moment. We ordered our meals in strained tones, neither of us daring to meet the other’s eyes.

Throughout the dinner, the conversation was stilted and forced, filled with empty pleasantries and awkward pauses. We smiled like polite, deranged strangers, pretending to be a couple, when in reality, we were nothing more than two people trapped in an uncomfortable charade.

I could feel Sawyer’s displeasure with me brewing beneath the surface, his frustration palpable even in the silence between us. But neither of us addressed it, both of us determined to act our part, no matter how strained it may feel.

As I sit alone in my living room, the memory of that dinner weighs heavily on my mind. If one evening was that excruciating, how will I manage to keep up this ruse for thirteen months? The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I push it aside, reminding myself that the freedom I crave is worth this facade. I can endure thirteen months for a lifetime of happiness.

I glance down at my phone; more specifically, the list of points Jo emailed me yesterday, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach as I read through the instructions. First, she wants us to document our first date—where it was, what we did, and all the other details that make it sound like a fairy tale romance. I suppress a sigh, knowing that recounting that disastrous dinner with Sawyer will be anything but romantic.

Then there’s the request to find three things I like about him. Three things. As if that’s some easy feat. I run my fingers through my hair, frustration building within me. Apart from his looks—which I begrudgingly admit are attractive—I can’t think of a single thing I genuinely like about him. He’s arrogant, self-absorbed, and completely oblivious to anyone else’s feelings. How am I supposed to find anything redeeming in that?

I close my eyes, trying to calm the rising tide of irritation. This whole situation feels like a cruel joke—a never-ending cycle of pretending and then pretending some more. But I can’t afford to let my emotions get the better of me. Not when so much is at stake.

With a resigned sigh, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. If I want to maintain my freedom from my family, I have to play this game. And if that means finding three things I like about Sawyer Perry, then so be it. It’s not like I have a choice in the matter.

But as I realize what I have to do, I can’t help but wonder if this whole charade is worth it. If sacrificing my integrity and pretending to like someone I can’t stand is the price I have to pay for my freedom, then what does that say about me?

I shake my head, banishing the doubts and uncertainties from my mind. There’s no point dwelling on what-ifs and maybes. All I can do is focus on the present and do whatever it takes to survive in this twisted game of make-believe. And if that means throwing myself completely into this, then I’ll make it happen—no matter how impossible it may seem. And that all starts with an uncomfortable phone call.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for the inevitable as I hit Sawyer in my saved contacts. After a few rings, he answers, his voice crisp and businesslike.

“What’s up?” Sawyer’s voice carries a hint of annoyance, as if he’s already tired of my call.

“Hey, Sawyer,” I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral. “I was thinking that maybe we should spend some time together. You know, get to know each other better. For the interview and all that.” I add the last part as a reminder of what we’re expected to do.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can practically feel Sawyer’s reluctance through the phone. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. Can’t this wait?”

I grit my teeth, frustration bubbling up inside me. “No, it can’t fucking wait,” I hiss, my composure slipping momentarily. “We both know that last night was a fiasco. If we continue like that, it’s not going to help either of us.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” he drawls, and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice.

Inhaling sharply, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Because you don’t care if you’re not playing for the Sabertooths next year?” His answering growl is all the confirmation I need to know I’m getting to him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Are you threatening me? Because that would be very fucking stupid of you. I’m not the only one with something to lose, Lucia. I might not know what you’re getting out of this yet, but trust me when I say I’ll find out.”

I’m not scared of Sawyer finding out my secret. My family is hiding in plain sight. We’re everywhere, and most politicians are either part of my family or owned by them. So, no, I don’t think Sawyer is going to stumble over the truth. Besides, it’s nothing to him. He needs a girlfriend and I need a husband. We’re both using each other and if that isn’t just fucking perfect, I don’t know what is.

“Do your worst,” I say, forcing my tone to sound like I’m bored. “But in the meantime, we have a deal, Sawyer. You get my body and I get your time. If that isn’t enough of an incentive, then think about what I did for you with Tom.”

“What do you mean?”

I laugh. “With almost no effort, I made you look good in front of your GM. How hard do you think it would be for me to undo that?”

Sawyer lets out a low growl, his tone dripping with anger. “Fine, Lucia. I’ll make some time for us to hang out. But don’t expect me to drop everything for you.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course not, Sawyer. In fact, I barely have any expectations. So, you know, you can only surprise me.” Without giving him the chance to retort, I hang up.

That man infuriates me way more than he has the right to. I didn’t think this would be easy, but fuck. I didn’t think it would be this hard. Shouldn’t Sawyer want to save his career? It’s almost like he’s given up and resigned himself to whatever fate Tom has in store for him if he doesn’t get his shit together. While that shouldn’t bother me, it does. Our fates are intertwined and Sawyer might be okay with not getting what he wants, but I’m not.

Getting up from the couch, I march into my room. Before I can talk myself out of what I’m about to do, I strip naked. Then I stand in front of my full body mirror, strategically turning to the side to hide the mark on my hip, and raise my phone. I position it just right, capturing my entire body. My free hand cups my boob as I take the picture, which I immediately send.

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