Maisey Yates - The Couple who Fooled the World

“Don’t stare, Julia, it’s rude.”

She shot Ferro a deadly glare he probably couldn’t see in the darkness. “Sorry. I forgot we were being blasé.” And she shouldn’t have forgotten. Anything else was way too revealing and embarrassing.

“You’ll get to the point where you don’t have to remember. Trust me.”

“You think?” she asked, looking sideways at him in the dark.

“I know. You’re lucky life hasn’t knocked it out of you yet.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You have no idea what life has taken from me,” she said. For the second time in the same day, she thought back to that long-ago prom night. Why was she thinking about it so much? She never thought about it. She’d moved on from it. She was fine. Bruises healed. And the stuff that didn’t? It had helped her realize that you had to be strong. It had been when she’d stopped trying to fit in, when she’d stopped being so afraid to be unusual. She’d just started owning it then. And it had been the key to her success.

She wasn’t sending out any thank-you cards to the jackass who’d assaulted her, but she wasn’t wallowing, either.

“I’d venture to say you know less about mine than you think you do, Julia,” he said, his words darker than the theater.

“I read the bio,” she said.

He chuckled, a sound that lacked humor and warmth. “As I said, you know less about me than you think. Just because it’s in print, doesn’t mean it’s the whole truth.”

The End of the Tech World As We Know It?

The headline screamed up at Julia from the newspaper, just delivered to her tablet. Ferro was already in her office, sitting in the chair in front of her desk like he had every right to be there.

“Not exactly the headline we anticipated,” he said.

“Ya think?” She skimmed the article, her stomach sinking. “Either a sharp blow to progress or a cheap publicity stunt,” she read out loud.

“Because if we’re sleeping together we won’t be competing, and if we aren’t competing, will we be on our game?”

“I have a lot of words rolling around in my head right now and they’re all filthy,” she said, standing up and pacing up and down in front of her office window. “What are we going to do? It’s everywhere. It’s trending on Twitter. There’s a Facebook page, Calvaresi, a freaking Facebook page devoted to…what are they calling us?” She leaned in and skimmed the article again. “JulErro. For the love of Darth.”

“And for everyone rooting for this little enemies-to-lovers tale…”

“There are just as many rooting for us to go down in flames. This…this is a lot bigger than we anticipated, isn’t it?”

Ferro wished he could say he’d anticipated just this, but the simple fact was, social media was hard to anticipate. The press was one thing, the civilian-run news machine? Something else entirely. And the simple truth was, this had gone way outside the tech world, thanks to the internet, which was run by the masses. Who were entirely unpredictable.

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

The feeling of claustrophobia he felt now, the feeling of being trapped, he didn’t like it. A trap of his own making. And it wasn’t the first one he’d ever been in. He knew all about this. About going so far down a road there was no way to turn back. That you just had to push through, keep going, because you’d gone too damn far.

“Fine,” she said, continuing to pace. “We continue on, and we make it the biggest spectacle ever. And when we blow it up, we make it huge. The biggest media explosion ever. And we’ll always be more interesting after this. Think about it, when you hijack another one of my presentations, just think how newsworthy it will be when we’re exes? Hypothetically. Don’t hijack one of my presentations again.”

Julia might be wearing armor, but she was a tough woman. Smart. Brilliant even. “Of course,” he said, “we’ll be expected to spend a lot of time together. A lot. The visibility is too high. We’re going to have to give them something to talk about, because if we don’t…if we get caught in this…”

“We’re in trouble.”

“Putting it mildly.”

“Okay…okay…what’s the plan then?”

“There’s a charity event tonight. I was planning on skipping it and writing a check, but I think we should make an appearance, don’t you? As a couple.”

Julia looked like she was going to say something, but she hesitated.

“Come on, Julia,” he said. “Don’t wimp out now.”

“I’m not wimping out!”

“Then why do you look like a deer caught in the headlights?”

“Because the other day we were sworn enemies and if I never had to see you in person it suited me just fine. Now…two outings with you in a row? I could live without that.”

“Maybe this is why tech, and business in general, is traditionally a man’s game,” he said, not meaning a word he was saying but knowing it would give Julia the kick she needed. “Maybe it’s because women are too ruled by emotion.”

He knew it wasn’t true. Because he’d been…he didn’t even know what to call it. Shaped, molded, by women who hadn’t cared what their actions meant to the emotions of a teenage boy. He’d spent years surrounded by women who saw people only as pawns. People of both genders were more than capable of acting based on selfish desire. Of using people to meet their ends.

But his words would push Julia. He knew it. Knew it was a hot button for her.

“Are you saying I can’t do this?” she asked.

“You’re the one who looks like she has a problem. I’m willing to make this work. Are you? Or are you just giving me lip service here?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to ignore the potential double entendre there.”

“If it suits you.”

“Fine. You have yourself a date for tonight. Ferro?”

“Yes?”

“Uh…what’s the charity?” He had a feeling that wasn’t the question she’d intended to ask.

“For homeless youths.”

“Great. I’ll bring my checkbook.”

CHARITY EVENTS WERE the scourge of Ferro’s existence. A shiny, gorgeous hotel ballroom, filled with internally ugly people who possessed an unnatural amount of self-importance. People who manipulated and used the less fortunate for their own pleasure during the day, but showed up to things like this to show their altruism to the press.

He could well remember the first time he’d been in a room like this. Hating who he was with. Hating that he had to smile and fawn and do whatever it was he’d been paid to do. No matter whether he wanted it. No. The tabloids, the author of his bio, they really had no idea of the depths he’d been to.

He looked at Julia, who was holding on to his arm like it was a live eel, the smile on her face anything but easy, and he wondered if he had become no better.

No. This benefitted Julia, too. It was an exchange.

Like sex for money? Hell, no. This wasn’t the same.

Why was he even thinking about it? He rarely did. But it happened more since Julia and he had struck their unholy alliance. No one knew the truth. They believed, of course, that he’d slept his way to the top. He’d been spotted with some very wealthy older women in his younger years. But they didn’t know the truth.

The rumors clung to him, disgusted him. Because of the ring of truth to them. But he would walk the same path a thousand times to end up where he was today. He just went on, proving his right to be in his position with his continued success.

Regret was for the weak. And he wasn’t wasting any time on it tonight. Or ever. He was shutting it off. The way he’d shut off the feelings of bone deep hunger and cold he’d experienced as a child on the street. The way he’d shut down the shame and pain when he’d been lifted up from that gutter where he’d been and brought into a glittering, hideous world that had asked for his soul in exchange for food and a warm bed. In exchange for eventual success.

The way he shut desire down now, to avoid ever thinking about that time in his life.

Tonight, for this, he would shut off what little conscience he had left, and go forward. Because it was the best thing to do. Because the end always justified the means. Always. And because he was no longer the boy he’d once been. He was the man with the power. And that meant he would win in the end.

As they moved through the room, a wave of whispers followed. Everyone was watching them. Everyone was interested.

“Try to relax,” he said to Julia.

“I am relaxed.”

“Which leads me to the conclusion that you genuinely don’t know how to relax. You’re tense. You’re practically shivering.”

She looked down at her hands. “I have a lot of energy.”

“Is that so? Then perhaps we should put it to good use.” He shifted his hold on her and laced their fingers together, drawing her out toward the high gloss dance floor.

“Why?” she asked, her tone petulant.

“Why what?”

“Why the dancing?” She looked genuinely worried now, all that tough-chick bravado gone.

“Because the headline will be sensational.” He drew her up against his body and felt her frame tremble beneath his touch. It wasn’t attraction. He was well familiar with women being attracted to him. She looked…scared. “I’m not going to bite you,” he said.

“I know.” She looked around. “But I’m going to look stupid.”

“Follow my lead.”

He began to step in time with the music, guiding Julia’s movements. She clung to his shoulder, her nails digging into him through the fabric of his jacket. He was familiar with that, with long nails pressed into his skin, a memory from his past. But this, again, was different.

She stumbled, the heel of her shoe harsh on his toe, even with his custom leather shoes to cushion the blow. Her face turned pink. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He kept on moving, and she stumbled again, the color in her cheeks deepening.

“This isn’t really my thing,” she said, looking over his shoulder, at the people behind them. “People are staring.”

“Most of them probably like our Facebook page. We’re infamous now, not just famous.”

“Weren’t you already?”

He smiled. “Yes. Welcome to the dark side.”

“I’m not sure I like that I’ve joined you here.”

“So, you’ve always kept your conscience clean before your association with me?”

She looked down. “Of course.”

“Do I make you feel dirty, Julia?”

She lifted her head, her eyes round, face pink. He’d succeeded in shocking. In putting her off balance. He didn’t know why he needed to do it. To prove that he was still in control? Maybe. The control felt tenuous with her in his arms, her skin soft beneath the palm of his hand.

But this was just a game. Like every other sexual game he’d ever played. He had a part to play. It had nothing to do with him, with what he wanted. It didn’t even matter what she wanted. It mattered what the press wanted to see.

And they wanted a show. A show he was going to make sure they got.

“Every association I’ve ever had with you has made me feel like I had a little dirt on my hands now that you mention it.”

“I’d ask you how it feels to sell your soul for money. But I already know.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. She looked so…sweet. Not in personality, but like her flavor would be that of a fine dessert. He wondered.

Hell, he didn’t have to wonder. It was time to put on the show. Not because he was wondering about her lips, but because he couldn’t have her standing there, staring at him with a guppylike expression on her face.