Page 1 of Festive Faking
Chapter 1
Aspen
“What’s eating you, Freckles?”
Oh, Lord. I cannot do this today.
What no one told me about living in LA was that because the sun was out year-round, my freckles would be too. The Oklahoman winters I grew up in had them hibernating for a solid six months annually, but Macallan Blaze, the owner of the slightly taunting voice, never wasted an opportunity to remind me that they were now a permanent fixture of my appearance.
I’d been hiding in the back of the library for a reason. I wanted to be alone while I sorted out the mess otherwise known as my life. So, of course, he would find me. Did an alarm go off in his brain that said,Time to kick Aspen while she’s down?
Lifting my head from where it had been pressed to the smooth wood surface of the table, I groaned when I saw the cocky smirk on that infuriating man’s face was aimed directly at me.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape him.
The two of us were at the top of our class in the Master of Architecture program at SoCal University, and that meant our professors constantly forced us together for projects. When we weren’t partnered, it was a constant battle as we each tried to wrestle that top spot for ourselves, for however short a time before the other stole it back.
While I’d worked my ass off to earn a spot in the top program in the country—scraping by on ramen as I took on unpaid internships for experience to create my impressive portfolio—Mac had been given entry solely based on his last name.
The Blaze family owned BlazeLuxe International, the largest hotel conglomerate in the world. Though the luxe in their name might suggest they only catered to the ultra-wealthy, they were shrewd enough to recognize that expansion into budget hotels would cause their business to explode.
And it had. The Blazes were billionaires.
But the problem with those who had more money than they could ever spend in a lifetime? They viewed the world as their playground and life as a game—one they had already proven they’d won.
Grudgingly, I could admit Mac would make an exceptional architect, but outside of the classroom, he was a real prick. He thought that if he could get under my skin, I might falter, allowing him to secure that top spot before we earned our degrees in the spring.
I was not in the mood for his shit today.
“Go away, Mac.”
Placing both hands on the table, he leaned in. “Figured we could nail down some of the details on our project due in January. Since you’ve hitched your wagon to my star and all.”
God, why were the assholes so fucking attractive? Especially this one. Like life hadn’t given him enough, being born into an obscenely rich family.
Dark hair was swept away from his handsome face lined with stubble. More than once, I’d caught myself staring into the depths of his brown eyes, unable to look away. His expensive clothing only served to highlight the sharp ridges of muscles it hid, and I found myself imagining what he looked like wearing nothing at all.
I bet he’s good in bed. Confident, with a hint of cockiness.
Then he winked, and that mental daydream went up in smoke.
“I can’t do this today.” I shoved back from my seat, grabbed my backpack, and turned on my heel.
I made it all of two steps before a hand gripped my elbow, halting me.
When I shot Mac a murderous glare, he let go, holding both hands up in surrender. “I was just messing around, Aspen.”
My filter evaporated, and I snapped at him. “Look, I know you only came in here to get busy with some co-ed behind the stacks. Why don’t you focus on that and leave me alone?”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Jealous?”
“Hardly.” I scoffed.
“Because you’re super fulfilled with Mike, right?”
How did he do it? Know exactly which buttons to press?
“Mike and I broke up.”
