Page 43 of Power Play
“Exactly,” Layla confirms. “Bring yourgirlfriend, charm the board, smile for the cameras, and for God’s sake wear the suit I sent you. Do not show up in joggers or sneakers. And make sure she knows it’ll bea very public event. Lots of eyes. Flashbulbs. She’ll be photographed.”
I exhale hard, dragging a hand down my face. “Alright. I’ll ask her.”
“You won’task, you’llconvince. This is a seven-figure deal, Murphy.”
The line goes dead.
I FaceTime Sophie the second I get home, flopping onto my bed with my hair still damp from the shower and my phone balanced against my knee.
She picks up after the third ring, already in her comfies, tied-up hair and reading glasses perched on her nose like she’s trying to look unsexy and failing spectacularly.
“Fancy seeing your face,” she says, voice dry. “Let me guess. You need something.”
“You know me so well.” I flash her a grin. “Got a favour to ask, darling.”
She narrows her eyes. “If this involves body paint or pretending to be your human shield in another bar fight, the answer’s no.”
“It’s classier than that. Ish.” I sit up and lean closer to the screen. “There’s a sponsorship dinner tomorrow night. Big one. Media, suits, very boring wine. Layla says I need to take someone respectable looking. Unfortunately, all my usual options are either in Vegas or banned from hotel ballrooms.”
Her lips twitch. “And I’m the next best thing?”
“You’re thebestthing,” I say without missing a beat. “You’re smart, gorgeous, and terrifying in heels. And we’re already pretending to date, remember?”
She makes a show of sighing. “So, I just show up and smile?”
“Well, no. It’s not just dinner. There’ll be paparazzi. Flashbulbs. You’ll be all over the socials by midnight. Your face next to mine in some headline like‘Bad Boy Murphy Goes Public with Stunning Girlfriend’.”
Her mouth opens, then shuts.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” she says, a little too quickly. “Just wasn’t expecting my Thursday night to include a red carpet and my face in the daily papers the next day. But I said I’d play the part, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” I say, softer now. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll tell Layla to stuff it and take Jacko in a wig.”
She rolls her eyes. “I made a deal. And I don’t back out.”
There’s something in her tone that makes my chest ache. Fierce loyalty and stubborn pride. That small, dangerous part of me that’s always looking for more with her stirs again. “Alright,” I say quietly. “We’ll go. You’ll look a million bucks. I’ll wear the stupid suit.”
“I’ll bring a taser if you try to touch my bum in front of shareholders.”
“No promises.” I grin.
There’s a pause. Her expression softens, and her gaze lingers on the screen.
“You clean up well, Murphy,” she murmurs.
“You’ve barely seen me clean up.”
“Doesn’t take much imagination.” Her voice dips.
Something shifts in the air between us. The usual teasing fades into something heavier. Hotter and more loaded.
I stretch out on the bed, keeping the phone steady so she gets the full view; shirtless, towel around my waist, all golden skin and temptation. Her breath catches.
“You like this?” I ask, my voice low now.
“Moderately,” she says, but her eyes say otherwise.
