Page 24 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

It took me years to accept myself after he made me feel so totally unpresentable. In college, I was diagnosed with ADHD, took steps to learn to thrive with it, and then I came to life. I realized I wasn’t offbeat but rather ahead of the tempo. I had a way of spotting future trends and capitalizing on them. When I first started at the ad agency retained by Dumfries Holding, I was in heaven. I was great at my job, I was put on cool campaigns, and I was killing it.

And then Philip Dumfries came in and blew my life up. He was hot and charming and had this way of looking at me like we were in on a secret no one else could understand. He had a reputation as a lady killer, and his attention made me feel special. I felt like I was dunking on my dad that this pinnacle of a man was interested in me, even if I wasn't normal.

He asked me out on my first day at Dumfries.

The first couple of months together were like a fairytale … with a few Grimm moments, if you know what I mean. But, like a good little empath, I made excuses for him. By the third month, his mask was slipping more and more. And by six months, I was stuck on a sickening merry-go-round of feeling lucky that Philip cared about me, feeling worthless without him, wanting out, and wanting him to just love me.

I don't say this lightly: it was hell.

Him giving me a compliment after our veiled hostilities resurfaces some buried feelings, and it makes me realize that my self-esteem hasn't fully recovered. Those old emotions join ping-ponging thoughts, creating a level of chaos in my brain that is too overwhelming to process, let alone handle. The force of these chaotic thoughts tugs me apart, threatening to scatter me in the lightest breeze.

But then I feel the steadying weight of Rusty's arm. I lean closer, letting his embrace, his warmth, and his belief in me pull me back together. When he kisses my temple, I become absolutely certain of one thing:

I'm going to beat Philip.

So as he monologues like a villain about how he's here to bring some "sophistication" and create a "booming market," I smile.

“This should be fun,” I say.

He eyes me. "How so?"

"Looks like we're competitors."

"What?" His mask slips a fraction. "In what way?"

"We proposed a town revitalization project to the chamber of commerce this morning," I say.

He nods as if piecing together some information. "And I understand it was rejected."

"You understand wrong," Rusty says in his deep, slow, strong voice. "We're giving them a two-week trial period to show them what we can do before your … little presentation."

Philip's left eye twitches. "Two weeks? I wasn't informed."

"Teddy and Bill can set you straight when you see them," Rusty says.

"I don't say this to be rude," Philip says in his patented "trust me" voice that no one should ever trust, "But your plan can't work. It would take years of revenue to match what we can give them. We're offering too much money."

"We're offering them a legacy," I say.

"A legacy?” he laughs. “In two weeks?"

"Yup! Not that I'll need them," I lie, "but definitely. So you may as well take Grandpa Dumfries' private jet back home and wait to hear back."

"It's not going to work," Philip insists. He's sweating like a politician in church, and even though Rusty and I are both sweating, too, Philip looks like it.

"You should probably delete those social media posts just in case," Rusty says, telling me he knows something I don't.

Philip fits his mask firmly back on and puffs out his chest. "May the best man win."

Rusty chuckles. "She will."

CHAPTER SEVEN

RUSTY

"Who are you and what did you do with my Rusty?"

Ash asks this the second the door closes to the Jane & Co. offices.

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