Page 4 of Fake It Til You Break It

Beckett chose a seat at the end of the leather sofa and stretched his arm along the back. “I already know quite a bit, but I do have some questions.”

I masked my confusion with a gentle laugh as I settled into one of the matching armchairs. Unlike him, I didn’t make myself comfortable. I perched on the edge of the cushion and clasped my hands together in my lap.

“I assume you’re referring to my client profile.”

“Right.”

His hesitation was brief, yet long enough to draw my suspicion. “If not the profile, then I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I know you show up to all those parties with a million-dollar smile, but today is the first time I’ve seen you truly happy.” His eyes narrowed in challenge, and when I didn’t refute him, a slow, cocksure grin stretched his lips. “If you hate those events so much, why do it?”

A wave of relief washed over me, and I relaxed my clenched fingers. “Obligation,” I answered bluntly. “At least, in part. My mother supported several charities, and I would like to continue that legacy.”

“Fair enough.” With his arm still stretched across the sofa, he flipped his hand up in a questioning gesture. “Why not just write a check and call it a day?”

“Because Project SafeHouse relies on sponsors and donations.”

“So, quid pro quo,” he surmised. “You scratch their backs. They scratch yours.”

He made it sound so vulgar, but he had the gist of it. “Something like that.”

Beckett nodded, a slow, subtle movement. “Tell me, what are you looking to get out of this arrangement?”

This question I had anticipated, and as such, I had my answer prepared. “I guess you could say I’m looking for a buffer. Someone who—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Moving to the edge of the sofa, he leaned toward me and rested his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t mean the rehearsed version. I’m not asking for whatever it is you think I want to hear. I don’t care if it’s messy. Just tell me the truth.”

Oh, it was plenty messy alright, but he’d asked for it.

“I need someone to pretend to enjoy my company for the evening.” I paused and glanced down at my knees. “I need someone to ease the pressure when things get overwhelming.Someone to keep me…grounded.” Finally, I took a deep breath and dared to meet his gaze again. “Anything else?”

His smile came slowly, but it reached all the way to his eyes. “When do we start?”

two

~ Beckett ~

Afterthreeyearsofworking the gala circuit, I thought I had seen everything. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the sheer level of absurdity on display at my first event with Jasper.

The invitation had been to a private showing for an exhibition titledA Journey of Nothing.And from the moment we arrived on a dimly lit street of Dallas’ upper east side, I hated everything about it.

I had been envisioning a minimalistic but modern art gallery with too many white walls and maybe a dash of pretentiousness. Instead, the limousine slowed to a stop in front of a graffitied warehouse with a sketchy-looking entrance illuminated by only a single, naked bulb.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

Jasper stared out the tinted window, resignation etched into the lines of his face. “I’m sure.”

When the driver came around to open the door, I exited first, scanning the area with a critical eye before motioning for Jasper to join me. I didn’t expect someone to leap out of the shadows to attack us, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility, either. Although I hadn’t worked personal protection in years, old habits still remained.

Working security—either solo or as part of a team—had been exactly the kind of high-stakes, adrenaline-fueled career I’d craved in my twenties. By my thirties, it had lost some of its shine. It wasn’t until I’d been staring down the barrel of forty, however, that I realized helping others didn’t have to mean constant danger.

Sometimes, it could be as simple as just showing up.

“How do I look?” On the sidewalk, Jasper pulled his shoulders back and stretched his lips into a practiced smile.

“Let’s see,” I said as I reached out to straighten his already perfectly knotted tie.

Since I had been staring at him in the back of the limousine for the past half hour, I already knew he looked stunning in his tailored three-piece suit. But that kind of talk wouldn’t do either of us any favors.

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