“Remember that night at Club Red?” I ask, walking over to grab a glass from the wet bar and taking out a bottle of whiskey. I normally don’t drink at work, the bar is more for show and guests, but this is one of those times that it’s needed. Taking a sip, I quickly outline the argument with my dad, the gossip spread, and his threats about how I’ll lose my position within the company.

“Fuck, that was the pastor’s wife?” Kaede asks in disbelief when I’m done. “What the hell? She was all over you, pouty and sad and damn near begging for you to make it all better. Why would they be pissed at you and not her?”

“That’s what I’m saying! The rumor isn’t true, but still . . .”

Kaede strokes his chin thoughtfully, already in damage control mode. “I’ll draft a letter to Joeden Snow,” he mutters as if it’s a foregone conclusion that I’ve already agreed to, “conveying your sincerest apologies for not recognizing his wife, a reassurance that nothing untoward happened, and a promise that you’ll make a considerable donation to certain acceptable charities.”

“I don’t like it,” I say right away. “It gives that trashy article legitimacy.”

The fact of the matter is, I didn’t do anything with his wife but offer a listening ear, and such a letter would be an admission of guilt.

And for once, I’m not guilty.

But Kaede is already shaking his head. “What you do or do not like, or did or didn’t do, doesn’t matter in this situation. Also, I’ll suggest that our PR group and Pastor Snow’s put out media releases stating that the evening in question was no more than professional acquaintances having a friendly drink and that you wished Pastor Snow and his wife well when you saw her safely home.” I glare at him, but he continues before I can say what I’m really thinking. “Look, going the extra mile will be two-fold. You assuage any ill feelings from Joeden, and your father will appreciate that you took steps to rectify any public damage to the company.”

It rankles my nerves to have to do anything in this situation.

I do what I want.

When I want.

I don’t like people telling me what to do, least of all my father, who’s blowing this whole situation out of proportion to get what he wants. Hell, the shareholder part is probably just made up to reinforce his leverage.

But as much as I hate to admit it, Kaede’s plan has merit. The man has gotten me out of some very tight situations, and this time will be no different. I trust his judgement, and as much as I don’t like his plan, if he thinks it will fix the bad press and heal things with Dad, I’m down with doing it.

I look out at the skyline and make my silent decision. All right, you win this time, old man. But I’m only doing this so you lose your bullshit leverage of trying to force me to settle down.

I down my shot of whiskey but freeze when I hear Kaede add, “But . . .”

“What?” I demand, turning to survey him. He’s sitting upright now, both feet on the floor and a tight jaw, a sure sign that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

“I think maybe you should do what your dad wants.”

I don’t even have to ask to know what he means.

The truth of the matter is, I’m just not ready to settle down. I’m not the wild child the media thinks, and I’ve even had several relationships, but something’s always missing. When I picture waking up with the same woman day after day, it sounds . . . boring. Monotonous. Predictable.

And I especially can’t see myself just finding someone out of the blue to be with just to appease my parents.

“You can’t be . . .” I begin to say, but the look on Kaede’s face says it all. “Dude!”

“Even if it’s not real,” Kaede insists. “Just someone to give the illusion that you’ve changed and are willing to settle down, someone who can help with your image and calm the shareholders. Call it a . . . relationship of appearances.”

“The shareholder thing is bullshit to get me to do what he wants, and the letter should be enough—”

“It’s not bullshit, actually,” Kaede says, shaking his head. “And your parents are not going to stop harping on you now that your dad has you backed into a corner. So, let’s pretend for a moment. We know your ego is too big to do something like this after being threatened, but at the same time, you risk losing your seat on the board . . . so, what do you do?”

“Find a fake girlfriend?” I guess.

Kaede snaps his fingers, sitting back in his chair and grinning. “Bingo.”

I chuckle at the ridiculous notion, even though I’m kind of intrigued by the idea. It definitely would be the perfect revenge on Dad for having the nerve to threaten me. Wouldn’t be so nice for Mom, though, but there’s always some collateral damage in war.

The more I think about it, the more I like it, a host of scenarios playing out in my head. Like K said . . . a relationship of convenience. Hell, maybe even convenience with benefits.

The idea is so amusing that I can’t help but laugh, thinking about what a fool I could make of Dad for daring to cross me.

But I still have doubts, saying, “That’s just crazy.”

But Kaede is already mentally scrolling for candidates.

“Got any contenders?” Kaede asks. “I know a small list of trustworthy women who work on this floor who would love to be your girlfriend, even if it’s just for show.”