Description
I’ve got everything I could want.
Money. Power. Beauty.
Just one thing lacking.
Love.
So when Jess and I bump into each other on a cruise ship, it’s different.
She’s real.
Real pretty. Real down to earth.
And in real trouble.
But then again…so am I.
There’s only one way I know that I can save her.
That’s by pretending she’s my girlfriend.
And then by proposing to her on the boat.
It’ll take care of all her troubles.
If she agrees.
But even if she does and we manage to keep the whole thing a secret, then we need to make sure our enemies don’t find out.
And even if they do, we have another much bigger worry to think about.
What happens to our pretend relationship when we start to develop real feelings?
Author’s Note: This romance novel contains steamy scenes.
One
Ashley
This whole situation is a drama fest and it’s completely unfair that this is being pinned solely on me. The media is in an absolute frenzy right now like a shark in blood filled water, circling my brother and his hotel business because of the incident this weekend.
And now my brother has called me in from sleeping off the hangover of the century, and for what; to listen to all his panicked investors trying to give him a piece of their mind? To dodge reporters’ questions? He’s got the gall to tell me that this is entirely my responsibility, despite the fact that it clearly isn’t.
So what if I took over three floors of the flagship hotel for my wild party that I threw with Regan Hampshire, my now ex girlfriend? It’s not as if the entire breakup or events that followed were just on me; she played just an equal part in the debacle. She’s a rich socialite with a social media following that would rival most celebrities, and it doesn’t matter where she goes, people will be there to witness whatever happens. So the fact that we broke up in the fountain of the hotel lobby and the media was there to see it wasn’t just on me, you know. People with cameras were going to see the breakup regardless of where it took place, and it’s not my fault that it happened in the form of a heated argument in the grand fountain in the hotel lobby.
In front of hundreds of people.
After we absolutely trashed three hotel rooms because I insisted that we do those last twelve shots.
Okay, so maybe it was a little bit my fault, but not to the extent that my brother Robin is making it out to be. This is fixable, right? All it’s going to take is a bit of good PR and this whole thing will be forgotten about in a couple of weeks. Probably.
Right now though, the media is having a field day with this and because of that, calls from investors are pouring in to the point where our phone lines are backed up, demanding that we take action. What action that is, I’m not so sure; I’m currently sitting at the desk with my head in my hands and downing water and Advil, desperately trying to stave off this headache.
My brother Robin is seated across from me on the phone, red in the face and trying not to lose his cool as one particularly angry client is berating him for letting such a thing take place in his establishment. All the while he’s glaring at me from across the desk and scowling, mouthing obscenities at me as I try not to smirk or chuckle, lest I make it worse. Finally he manages to get the old bat off of the phone and he curses under his breath before he leans back in his chair, and then he looks at me and shakes his head. He’s obviously pissed, but I still don’t see how he can blame this whole situation on me.
“This isn’t my fault you know.” I say calmly, sighing. “I don’t see why you’re so pissed at me; it could have happened with any guest staying there. You’ve got famous people there all the time.”
“Except it didn’t.” He snaps, huffing. “It happened while you were staying there, with your guests and your drama.”
I roll my eyes in response as his management team and PR consultants come in, the group of them chattering and frantically bickering back and forth like a flock of old hens. They’re all going back and forth about what strategy is best to deal with the press, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is basically free advertising, right? I always thought that there was no such thing as good publicity or bad publicity; just publicity. I open my mouth to tell him this but before I can say anything there’s another phone brought over to Robin from his assistant, insisting that the person on the other line won’t wait. He glares over at me and curses again, hushed, and then he drags his hand down over his face.
“You know Ashley; I’m going to have to cancel my cruise because of all of this. Does that make you happy?”
Why on Earth would he need to cancel his cruise? I look back at him, brow cocked in confusion and a look of disbelief on my face as I lean forward, scoffing.
“Oh stop being dramatic; you don’t need to cancel anything. You’ve got a PR team for a reason, right? Let them handle it.”
“I can’t let them handle this Ashley, I need to handle it myself!"
“And why not? What is so bad that you have to address the public directly and get your hands dirty, instead of the team whose job is to do exactly that for you?”
“I have to speak to them directly and deal with things myself because one of your guests went through the hotel, banging on every door and asking people to drink tequila with them! Without any pants, at that! My image is ruined and unless I show remorse and make a grand gesture, my profits won’t exist anymore.”
Whoops.
I roll my eyes again with a sigh, waving off his prattling as I drink the rest of my water, chuckling when his assistant reminds him that he really must take this call.
“Fine so you have to cancel your cruise, big deal.” I say with a shrug, shaking my head. “It’s not like it’s your first and it won’t be your last.”
He mutters under his breath and pinches the bridge of his nose, and then picks his gaze back up to meet mine, looking utterly defeated and tied of arguing.
“Look Ashley; you got me into this mess so the least you can do is help me out a bit and make yourself useful. I’m not about to ask you to make a public apology or anything like that-“
“Well I should hope not!”
&nb