Renting Boyfriend

Raisel – POV

“I agree,” I whispered in response to Soren’s proposal, and he smirked. The paparazzi bombarded us with questions, their flashes making my head dizzy. Soren’s arms wrapped around my waist, gently pulling me to his side and shielding me from view.

“Mr. Soren Dalton, we need to ask Mrs. Raisel Warden some questions,” the paparazzi said.

“You will not ask any questions to my girlfriend,” Soren stated firmly, looking at me as he guided me into an extensive black limousine. I could hear the paparazzi shouting about a wife and husband’s secret affair and other partners, proclaiming shocking news about a couple once adored by the public now dramatically parting ways. Soren’s warm hands covered my ears to block out the noise, and the car began to move away. The paparazzi were still blocking the car, trying to ask more questions.

“You are safe now,” Soren said as he took his hands back.

“Thank you,” I whispered, sniffling. Soren handed me his handkerchief.

“Did you not know about this?” Soren asked, referring to Alaric’s affair with Davina.

“I was a fool to ignore the signs of Alaric’s withdrawal and distance. I thought he was stressed because of his new project. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that he would cheat and create such drama,” I said through my sobs while Soren stared blankly at me.

“Can you call Hazel? I’ll stay at her place,” I suggested.

“No,” Soren said firmly. “You’re my girlfriend now, and don’t you see the car chasing us? That’s the paparazzi behind us.”

“What should we do?” I asked, nervous. I bit my lip, knowing how nasty they can get. Having been with Alaric, I knew what it was like to be in the limelight. Before that, my life was simple and normal; I lived with my aunt, who passed away after my marriage to Alaric.

“Stay with me, Raisin,” Soren said, using the nickname he had called me since we became friends. He smirked, seeing me annoyed.

“Soren, I can’t stay with you,” I said.

“Why not? Publicly calling you my girlfriend was a bold step. Here you are, making a fuss,” Soren replied. “I’ll call Hazel to my penthouse.” I nodded. He’s right; I need to stay with Soren for now. I have no home of my own, only the house Alaric and I shared, and I can’t go there to face that asshole and his girlfriend tonight.

Soren entered the keypad lock and opened the door to his bachelor pad, which exuded an air of sophistication and luxury; the sprawling layout boasts panoramic city skyline views through floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light. Soren looked different—not the young guy I remembered, but a man with a sharp jawline, soft brown hair, and hazel eyes with a charming allure. His body profile was more muscular as he took off his light blue blazer, and his white shirt hinted at the contours of his body. Back in college, he was a lean guy and not so groomed—he was a nerd if you ask me. I glanced away from Soren as my phone rang; it was Hazel. I texted her to come to Soren’s place and sent her the address.

“When did you move to New York?” I asked as I settled in the room, wanting to steer the conversation away from my pain and agony. “You said you would never return to New York since your family business is based in London.” Soren didn’t answer; he walked to the bar counter, made a drink, and handed me the vodka that I liked.

“You remember what I like?” I asked, impressed with his memory. I downed the vodka in one gulp. Soren brought the bottle over, placing it on the table, and I poured myself another drink. Soren watched quietly. He was always the introvert, rarely speaking unless asked, especially if the question was too personal.

“What are you planning to do, Raisin?” he asked.

“First, my name is not Raisin; it’s Raisel,” I corrected him, and Soren rolled his eyes. “Second, I’m going to divorce that motherfucker—no, wait, I will divorce him and tarnish his fucking name,” I said, my words turning into an evil laugh that soon turned to tears as I remembered how sweet Alaric had turned into that bastard and devil. I never imagined it would hurt so much; he humiliated me. I hugged myself, crying. The doorbell rang, and Hazel came in and hugged me; I cried even more as she gently patted my back.

“Hazel, what you said came true—he cheated on me.”

“We will take revenge, but first, divorce that asshole,” Hazel said as we stepped back from the hug, and I nodded.

“And you, seriously pulling the college stunt, Soren, acting as the boyfriend?” Hazel scolded him. “The internet is going crazy. Some are on Raisel’s side, and some call her the reason the marriage was ruined: she’s dating Soren for money, like a gold digger.”

“Why is my name tarnished and not his?” I snapped angrily.

“Your husband has a good PR team to handle crises,” Hazel explained.

“Alaric is not my husband,” I snapped back. Hazel raised her hands in surrender, signaling for me to calm down.

“What do you want, Raisel?” Soren asked as if he were a genie ready to grant my wishes.

“Revenge,” I said, my tears mingling with anger. Alaric had only seen my housewife side—the loyal and obedient wife who listened to him and followed his rules. But he doesn’t know my other side.

“How do you plan to do it?” Hazel inquired. I looked at Soren. He had come up with the stupid college stunt of renting a boyfriend. Between Soren and me, I hoped he would agree to play along.

“Soren, you will act as my rented boyfriend to stir up the drama my husband tried to create. I will bring a storm to his life,” I declared, half-drunk. Soren looked at me and smirked, a sign of agreement.