It took me an inordinate amount of time to find Aidan. Daymon had forgotten to say where this individual was, and it would appear that no one else was even remotely interested in telling such information to a new impersonator. Finally, after prowling room after endless room and hall after continuing hall, I burst through into the gardens.
There he was.
Standing near the trellis, a catch of sun in his dark hair, which shifted with the lazy afternoon breeze, Aidan Creek could have been the portrait of cruel perfection: sharp, carved cheekbones, a suit that screamed of designer labels, and the sort of presence that made people want to either kiss him or run far, far away.
I stopped a few feet away, folding my arms. "Hey."
He didn't turn immediately. When he did, his face was as unreadable as ever.
"You are late," he said.
I blinked. "You didn't tell me where to go."
He didn't acknowledge my excuse but came closer, his tone cold, cutting. "We don't have much time. There are things you should know before you meet my parents.”
"Not even a 'hello'?" I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
His eyes, so light a moment before, the light in their depths extinguished and left burning something much more sinister. "Watch your tone, Artemis," he growled in a low, sharp tone.
"Oh, sorry, sir. Next time I'll grovel when you talk to me," I said before I could stop myself.
That did it. He snatched my arm and knocked me backward against the side of the barn, graining through the thin cotton of my dress.
You don't get it, do you?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. "If you screw this up, I lose everything. My money, my reputation, and my family's respect. All of it to my brother.”
I looked right back at him, unmoving. "Not my problem.
His eyes finally dropped to my lips, held there a beat too long. The tension crackling raw between us sent a shiver coursing down my spine. My lips had parted instinctively, and for a moment, it was as if he would close the distance.
Instead, he pulled away, running a hand through his hair as though shaking off a thought he wouldn't like.
"You gotta understand something," he said ice in his voice clearer than ever. "You're not just pretending to be my girlfriend. You're impersonating her."
“Her?" I asked, raising a brow.
"My ex," he explained. “You two look so much alike and that is the only reason this crazy plan could work. I need you to impersonate her. Every gesture, every word—just like her."
"Let me get it," I said, really working at not laughing. "You want me to drop my entire life and play pretend so you can save yours?”
"Yes."
"What's in it for me?"
A knowing smirk tweaked his lips. "One million a month. Whatever else you want."
I faked deep thought, tapping my chin. "Throw in a lifetime supply of chocolate and a decent Wi-Fi connection, and we've got a deal.”
He didn't smile, but his eyes flickered with humor. "Done.”
By the time we got back to the house, I'd showered and dressed and been given a crash course on lessons 101 on how to be like his girlfriend. It wasn't hard to mimic her; there was something eerily familiar about the way he described her like I'd met someone like her before.
Dinner was. Strained.
His father, Don Carlo, was an intimidating man with small, beady, calculating eyes that never seemed to leave me. His mother was polite, even warm, but it was unmistakably clear who held the reins in this family.
"Welcome, Hera," rasped Don Carlo in his voice.
The name froze me for one second. Hera. A name my father once exclaimed he wanted to name his next child, though I dismissed it, knowing it would never make a difference. Coincidences like this threw a shiver down my spine.
I forced a smile, leaned over, and kissed his cheek as Aidan instructed. "It's such an honor, Don Carlo. Aidan has truly made me so happy—I can't wait to just be part of this family.”
Don Carlo's face relaxed, and Aidan's mother beamed. I fought the urge to bolt from the table.
"Let's eat, dears, while the food is still hot," announced Aidan's mother then, diffusing the atmosphere.
I turned to look at Aidan, who smiled at me so falsely it could have been printed on a billboard.
The rest of the dinner was one big blur of uncomfortable small talk and carefully framed answers to probing questions by Don Carlo. Thankfully, most of those questions I was prepared for with Aidan, so playing the role wasn't hard.
Then Don Carlo leaned back in his chair, arms across his chest while fixing an unblinking stare on Aidan.
"Well, when is the wedding?"
The question was hanging in the air as if it was a live grenade.
Aidan's green eyes widened slightly, but then he turned back to me. I faked a smile and pulled my chair closer to him, hitting his foot sharply under the table.
"Soon, Father," Aidan said smoothly. "We just don't feel now is the proper time."
“What are you waiting for, boy?" Don Carlo asked. "I know you two have had. What do the kids call it? Countless sex. I want grandchildren in my lap before I die. Don't give me bullshit, Aiden.”
I spat my water out, my face red from some quite violent coughs.
Countless sex? Not me, sir.
Aidan's jaw clenched, his gaze growing colder.
"Over time, Father."
In an instant, he was on his feet. His chair grated loudly on the floor as he jerked it backward. "Excuse us. Hera and I have to have a little talk."
He reached for my hand, nearly yanking me from the chair.
"Talk about giving me grandkids!" Don Carlo thundered after us, still laughter deep in his chest. "Gently with the girl, son!"
The longer Aidan seemed to stride, and if I didn't hurry to keep up, I would almost stumble over my feet.
"Hey!" I protested, "You're hurting me!"
He didn't let go.
"Aidan!" I yelled, wrenching my hand free finally.
He turned on me, his eyes a storm. "What?"
"Calm down," I said, fighting to steady my voice. "It was a joke. You don't have to act like such a brat.”
A cloud of danger over his face, and in one swift motion, he slammed me against the wall, his hands clenching around my waist.
"Don't call me that," he growled in a low, menacing voice.
For a moment, I really believed he would hurt me, but then his grip released, and he stepped backward, running a hand through his hair.
I drew a hand through my pocket and held out to him the lighter he had - a tiger-patterned thing - I had swiped from his room earlier.
He stared at it then at me. "What the hell?
"It looked cool," I shrugged.
He shook his head, reached for the lighter, and lit a cigar.
“Thief," he growled.
"Jerk," I shot back.
A slow, wolfish grin curled his lips.
I didn't trust that grin, not one bit.
It seemed, suddenly, that a week or two passed in a mist of duties and lies. Playing Hera was a lot more difficult than I'd thought, and Aidan's crankiness wasn't helping one bit. We even had to stage photos, pretending for the press that we were madly in love.I hadn't bargained for any of this paparazzi, the scrutiny, the eternal click-click-clicking of cameras that gave me the creeps. Aidan had assured me it would eventually die down, but I was anything but convinced. I was a small-town girl; I wasn't built for this world of flashing lights and fake smiles.The worst part, though, was sharing a bed with Aidan. I'd had my room to start, but his dad insisted on the arrangement since it would make the charade all the more believable.I lay now, awake in the dark, and listened to the soft rhythm of Aidan's breathing. He had looked different while sleeping-softer, almost human. The constant tension that always twisted his features had dissipated, leaving him to look… peaceful. His hair,
I was lost, stage five lost, total disorientation kind of lost. The big office, with tinted glass walls, with its sprawling view out at the city skyline, didn't feel like a sanctuary as much as it felt like a jail.I sat stiffly beside Aidan, his presence sharp and commanding. Behind us, Daymon loomed like a shadow, a quiet menace radiating from him. I was sure he was armed-his tension was palpable, the kind that only accompanied a weapon ready to be drawn.Aidan was calm, too calm, lounging in his chair with that maddening confidence he wore so easily. Across the polished mahogany desk sat Hernandez, his eyes darting between Aidan and me like a man trying to read the room but missing every cue.“Mr. Creek," Hernandez began, his voice careful but edged with nerves. "I've come with a proposal-one I think you'll find agreeable.”Aidan tilted his head, and his dark hair fell across his forehead, framing him like some rogue God. The green of his eyes was glinting with the sort of amusemen
Her lips collided with mine with a power that took my breath away. For an instant, I paused, the tempest of feelings tearing at the barriers I’d created around me. Artemis was the flavor of uprising and sweet defiance, and even though my brain urged me to stop, my body let me down. This was not meant to happen. Artemis had remained an enduring, persistent allure, always too nearby, too intense, too… her. I had reminded myself countless times to keep my distance. Women like her—no, all women—brought trouble, and I had learned this lesson through tough experiences. My history carried wounds I couldn’t reveal, reminders of how effortlessly trust could be broken. Yet at that instant, all the rules I had established for myself fell apart. Her lips melted against mine, urging a reaction I had suppressed for far too long. My hands acted independently, grabbing her waist, drawing her nearer until the warmth of her body endangered to burn away every bit of my self-restraint. And then I ki
“Why are you holding back?” I asked, my tone unwavering even though my heart quaked under my flesh. Aiden’s eyes met mine, piercing and cold, yet there was an underlying emotion concealed within—something he struggled to control. "I'm not holding back,"“I simply… don’t want to.” "You don’t want to what?" I pushed forward, moving closer, my heartbeat accelerating as the tension grew stronger between us. "This," he replied, shaking his head, his face lacking any feelings. "This—whatever you think is happening. It's a contract, Artemis. Keep that in mind." A slight, cheerful grin pulled at my mouth. “Shhh,” I whispered, gently tracing my fingers along his jaw, playfully provoking him. “I know you want it as much as I do. You're just a scared little puppy." His eyes grew dim, his jaw clenched tight. “Be careful with your words, baby girl,” he cautioned, his voice deep and menacing. "You will plead—pleading with me to stop." I moved in nearer, allowing my body to graze against his.
8 p.m. arrived sooner than I anticipated. My phone vibrated in my hand as the moment approached. This evening wasn’t an ordinary one—it was one I couldn’t manage to get ready for, regardless of how hard I attempted. I stepped out into the silent hallway; my heels clicked against the polished marble floor. Daymon stood by the door, his broad frame rigid, his eyes locking onto mine. Something about the intensity in those eyes ripped a ripple of unease right through me."Daymon?" My brow furrowed; I slowed my steps. "Why are you looking at me like that?"He hesitated, something unreadable crossing his face. "No reason," he murmured, tone flat. With reluctance, he added, "You look… good, ma'am.”The tightness in his tone was not to be missed. He wasn't one for compliments, and the words felt out of place.We walked silently to where the waiting car was, his eyes staying on me. But then the sleek black Range Rover came into view, and everything else faded. Aiden leaned casually against th
Aiden's words hung in the air long after he had vanished, leaving me rooted in the center of the grand hall. The hum of conversation continued to swirl around me, yet somehow sounded far away and muffled, like I was underwater. It tugged at my chest, and his voice continued to replay itself over and over in my head."You are mine.”Those words were a weight, but not a comforting one. It wasn't romantic; it stung. He had brushed me aside so many times since our little kiss in the storage room, he made me feel like nothing, and now suddenly I mattered.A glass appeared in my vision, the soft aroma of champagne rising to meet me.“Take this." Kane's voice was low, smooth, almost disarming. The easy smile played at the corners of his mouth as he held the glass out to me."You look like you could use it."I hesitated, my eyes
I eyed the golden watch on the table, pretending to be interested in something else while inching closer to the table. I knew it was wrong to steal but I couldn’t help it. I was hungry and I didn’t want to die.I couldn't afford to hesitate.I moved closer, each step calculated. Something in my head whispered caution, but hunger roared just a little louder. I could nearly hear the eulogy now: Artemis Vincent, dead at 22 because she was too virtuous to swipe a watch left behind by some rich guy.A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Of course, with therapy, that would be nice; if only that were an option when the bills needed paying. One last glance, and I swiped the watch, pushing it deep into my pocket."Good job, Artemis," I muttered under my breath, "You've earned yourself a burger—Starbucks, here I come—”"THIEF!"The shout pierced the air, and my blood ran cold. I turned to see a burly man in a black suit and dark glasses barreling toward me. Fists the size of small boulders were curle
Aidan Creek?The name rolled around in my head like a loose marble; I'd seen it somewhere, probably in a newspaper, or overheard it in one of those whispered conversations meant for ears much wealthier than mine. He was one of the richest men in California, practically untouchable.So why the hell would he want a petty thief like me to be his mistress?I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "You have to be joking. I'd marry a pig before I'd marry you."Aidan didn't flinch, just stared at a slow, calculated stare that had my skin crawling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but sharp enough to slice through steel."Then I'll make sure you rot in prison," he said. "Trust me, you don't want to know what happens to people like you in there."I froze. It felt like he gut-punched me with his words. He was right: he was the one with power and influence, and I didn't stand a chance. Prison wasn't just a punishment but a sure death sentence for someone like me."Why won't you let
Aiden's words hung in the air long after he had vanished, leaving me rooted in the center of the grand hall. The hum of conversation continued to swirl around me, yet somehow sounded far away and muffled, like I was underwater. It tugged at my chest, and his voice continued to replay itself over and over in my head."You are mine.”Those words were a weight, but not a comforting one. It wasn't romantic; it stung. He had brushed me aside so many times since our little kiss in the storage room, he made me feel like nothing, and now suddenly I mattered.A glass appeared in my vision, the soft aroma of champagne rising to meet me.“Take this." Kane's voice was low, smooth, almost disarming. The easy smile played at the corners of his mouth as he held the glass out to me."You look like you could use it."I hesitated, my eyes
8 p.m. arrived sooner than I anticipated. My phone vibrated in my hand as the moment approached. This evening wasn’t an ordinary one—it was one I couldn’t manage to get ready for, regardless of how hard I attempted. I stepped out into the silent hallway; my heels clicked against the polished marble floor. Daymon stood by the door, his broad frame rigid, his eyes locking onto mine. Something about the intensity in those eyes ripped a ripple of unease right through me."Daymon?" My brow furrowed; I slowed my steps. "Why are you looking at me like that?"He hesitated, something unreadable crossing his face. "No reason," he murmured, tone flat. With reluctance, he added, "You look… good, ma'am.”The tightness in his tone was not to be missed. He wasn't one for compliments, and the words felt out of place.We walked silently to where the waiting car was, his eyes staying on me. But then the sleek black Range Rover came into view, and everything else faded. Aiden leaned casually against th
“Why are you holding back?” I asked, my tone unwavering even though my heart quaked under my flesh. Aiden’s eyes met mine, piercing and cold, yet there was an underlying emotion concealed within—something he struggled to control. "I'm not holding back,"“I simply… don’t want to.” "You don’t want to what?" I pushed forward, moving closer, my heartbeat accelerating as the tension grew stronger between us. "This," he replied, shaking his head, his face lacking any feelings. "This—whatever you think is happening. It's a contract, Artemis. Keep that in mind." A slight, cheerful grin pulled at my mouth. “Shhh,” I whispered, gently tracing my fingers along his jaw, playfully provoking him. “I know you want it as much as I do. You're just a scared little puppy." His eyes grew dim, his jaw clenched tight. “Be careful with your words, baby girl,” he cautioned, his voice deep and menacing. "You will plead—pleading with me to stop." I moved in nearer, allowing my body to graze against his.
Her lips collided with mine with a power that took my breath away. For an instant, I paused, the tempest of feelings tearing at the barriers I’d created around me. Artemis was the flavor of uprising and sweet defiance, and even though my brain urged me to stop, my body let me down. This was not meant to happen. Artemis had remained an enduring, persistent allure, always too nearby, too intense, too… her. I had reminded myself countless times to keep my distance. Women like her—no, all women—brought trouble, and I had learned this lesson through tough experiences. My history carried wounds I couldn’t reveal, reminders of how effortlessly trust could be broken. Yet at that instant, all the rules I had established for myself fell apart. Her lips melted against mine, urging a reaction I had suppressed for far too long. My hands acted independently, grabbing her waist, drawing her nearer until the warmth of her body endangered to burn away every bit of my self-restraint. And then I ki
I was lost, stage five lost, total disorientation kind of lost. The big office, with tinted glass walls, with its sprawling view out at the city skyline, didn't feel like a sanctuary as much as it felt like a jail.I sat stiffly beside Aidan, his presence sharp and commanding. Behind us, Daymon loomed like a shadow, a quiet menace radiating from him. I was sure he was armed-his tension was palpable, the kind that only accompanied a weapon ready to be drawn.Aidan was calm, too calm, lounging in his chair with that maddening confidence he wore so easily. Across the polished mahogany desk sat Hernandez, his eyes darting between Aidan and me like a man trying to read the room but missing every cue.“Mr. Creek," Hernandez began, his voice careful but edged with nerves. "I've come with a proposal-one I think you'll find agreeable.”Aidan tilted his head, and his dark hair fell across his forehead, framing him like some rogue God. The green of his eyes was glinting with the sort of amusemen
It seemed, suddenly, that a week or two passed in a mist of duties and lies. Playing Hera was a lot more difficult than I'd thought, and Aidan's crankiness wasn't helping one bit. We even had to stage photos, pretending for the press that we were madly in love.I hadn't bargained for any of this paparazzi, the scrutiny, the eternal click-click-clicking of cameras that gave me the creeps. Aidan had assured me it would eventually die down, but I was anything but convinced. I was a small-town girl; I wasn't built for this world of flashing lights and fake smiles.The worst part, though, was sharing a bed with Aidan. I'd had my room to start, but his dad insisted on the arrangement since it would make the charade all the more believable.I lay now, awake in the dark, and listened to the soft rhythm of Aidan's breathing. He had looked different while sleeping-softer, almost human. The constant tension that always twisted his features had dissipated, leaving him to look… peaceful. His hair,
It took me an inordinate amount of time to find Aidan. Daymon had forgotten to say where this individual was, and it would appear that no one else was even remotely interested in telling such information to a new impersonator. Finally, after prowling room after endless room and hall after continuing hall, I burst through into the gardens.There he was.Standing near the trellis, a catch of sun in his dark hair, which shifted with the lazy afternoon breeze, Aidan Creek could have been the portrait of cruel perfection: sharp, carved cheekbones, a suit that screamed of designer labels, and the sort of presence that made people want to either kiss him or run far, far away.I stopped a few feet away, folding my arms. "Hey."He didn't turn immediately. When he did, his face was as unreadable as ever."You are late," he said.I blinked. "You didn't tell me where to go."He didn't acknowledge my excuse but came closer, his tone cold, cutting. "We don't have much time. There are things you sho
Aidan Creek?The name rolled around in my head like a loose marble; I'd seen it somewhere, probably in a newspaper, or overheard it in one of those whispered conversations meant for ears much wealthier than mine. He was one of the richest men in California, practically untouchable.So why the hell would he want a petty thief like me to be his mistress?I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "You have to be joking. I'd marry a pig before I'd marry you."Aidan didn't flinch, just stared at a slow, calculated stare that had my skin crawling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but sharp enough to slice through steel."Then I'll make sure you rot in prison," he said. "Trust me, you don't want to know what happens to people like you in there."I froze. It felt like he gut-punched me with his words. He was right: he was the one with power and influence, and I didn't stand a chance. Prison wasn't just a punishment but a sure death sentence for someone like me."Why won't you let
I eyed the golden watch on the table, pretending to be interested in something else while inching closer to the table. I knew it was wrong to steal but I couldn’t help it. I was hungry and I didn’t want to die.I couldn't afford to hesitate.I moved closer, each step calculated. Something in my head whispered caution, but hunger roared just a little louder. I could nearly hear the eulogy now: Artemis Vincent, dead at 22 because she was too virtuous to swipe a watch left behind by some rich guy.A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Of course, with therapy, that would be nice; if only that were an option when the bills needed paying. One last glance, and I swiped the watch, pushing it deep into my pocket."Good job, Artemis," I muttered under my breath, "You've earned yourself a burger—Starbucks, here I come—”"THIEF!"The shout pierced the air, and my blood ran cold. I turned to see a burly man in a black suit and dark glasses barreling toward me. Fists the size of small boulders were curle