Page 17 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

The words hit like a physical blow. My throat closes up as tears spring unbidden to my eyes. How stupid could I be? Here I was, opening my heart about wanting real love, and he just sees me as... what? A transaction?

Hot anger mixes with the hurt, burning away the stupid fantasy I'd built up around him. Of course the billionaire playboy just wants to buy me. That's what men like him do. They see something they want and throw money at it until it's theirs.

"No." My voice cracks as tears spill down my cheeks. I shake my head hard enough to make my vision blur. "No, I don't do that."

I burst through the balcony doors, gulping in the crisp night air. The chill bites at my exposed skin, but I welcome it. Anything to cool the burning shame and anger.

"Raven, wait!" Kirk's voice carries over the muted thrum of club music. "Please, let me explain."

"Explain what?" My voice cracks. "That I'm for sale?"

"No! God, no." His footsteps stop behind me. "I would never... that's not what I meant at all. I've handled this terribly."

Something in his voice makes me turn. The mask of confident billionaire playboy has slipped, revealing genuine distress underneath.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I think Giscard is planning something. Something bad." Kirk runs a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up. "People could get hurt. A lot of people."

My anger falters. This isn't what I expected. The internet painted him as some heartless corporate raider, but the worry in his voice sounds real.

"What kind of something?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I need access to the VIP floor - the Hellfire Club. But there's a catch. Only married couples can join."

Understanding dawns. "And you want me to..."

"Pretend to be my fiancée." He steps closer, those sunset-orange eyes intense. "Just for show. Just long enough for me to figure out what he's planning."

I grip the balcony rail, trying to process this twist. Part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity. The man I suspected of being a literal monster wants me to play pretend girlfriend to stop the bad guy?

"Why me?"

"Because you're smart. Observant. And something tells me you've got secrets of your own that make you perfect for this."

If he only knew.

"So... how much am I getting paid for this little charade?"

Kirk's lips quirk up. "Name your price."

I snort, because this whole situation is ridiculous. Me, pretending to be engaged to a billionaire who might secretly be a lizard man? Sure, why not. "Ten million dollars."

"Done. I'll transfer it into your account immediately."

My jaw drops. The world tilts sideways as my brain tries to process what he just said. Ten million dollars. That's... that's my art studio. That's never having to wear this stupid cheerleader costume again. No more dodging grabby hands or cleaning up spilled drinks. No more choosing between rent and groceries.

"Are you serious?" My voice comes out squeaky.

"Dead serious." Those sunset-orange eyes lock onto mine. "Do you accept?"

"Yes." My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "But just so we're clear?—"

"You're not going to sleep with me." His lips twitch. "I can put that in writing if you want."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, sharp and slightly hysterical. What else can I do? This is insane. My life has officially jumped the shark. I'm standing on a balcony with a maybe-lizard-man who just casually offered me ten million dollars to play pretend.

The balcony door creaks open behind me and my spine stiffens. Giscard's polished leather shoes click against the concrete, and my stomach drops. My boss - my maybe-evil boss if Kirk isn't lying - is the last person I need to see right now.

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