A ringing phone pulls my attention away from the laptop in front of me. I glance over to see Mom’s face flashing across the screen.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. How’s your faux-gagement going?”
My nose wrinkles. Could she be more cringe?
“Great, thank you. I think the gazillionaire hotel mogul’s ready to hire the gazillionaire architect who hired me.”
“Woo, finally!” An audible breath fills the phone. “That means you can move on with your life. Thank God.”
I’m silent.
“Mom, I have to stick out the ninety days we agreed on. We can’t give the guy any reason to suspect this was a ploy...” My toes curl, bracing for impact.
“I hardly see how that’s your problem. Paige, I don’t want you in this tangled mess longer than you have to be. I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just let your dad help you out with a studio. You wouldn’t have had to resort to something like—”
“Like what? The biggest success of my life? I need to do things on my own, Mom.”
“By pretending to be some rich man’s girlfriend? Have it your way. You’ll be explaining it for the rest of your life, how you got mixed up with a family with a supermodel fetish and sordid history—”
“That’s Nick.”
“What?”
“Nick, the brother, he has the supermodel fetish. I’m engaged to Ward. He’s as straight-edge as they come.”
“And yet he’s playing at being engaged. You’re pretending, and he’s paying you to lie.”
Way to twist the knife, Mom, I think with a sigh.
This is hard enough without having it pointed out by someone else.
“I hope you haven’t lost your head in this. Brandts aren’t good people, that lovely older woman aside. I’ve seen women they dumped on tabloid covers in checkout lines for ages. They always look like deer caught in headlights, never knowing what just hit them.”
She’s fixated on Victor Brandt’s sins, and I don’t know how to tell her his sons are nothing like him.
“You don’t need to worry. Ward’s nothing like his dad or his brother. I mean, Nick is pretty fun and a little broody, and Ward didn’t know what fun was before I showed up. He’s a serious guy.”
My eyes flick to the time, wondering how long this suffering will go on.
“So serious he’d fake an engagement to my daughter and let her name be dragged through the mud? A charmer, I’m sure.” Mom pauses. I can see her pinching the bridge of her nose like she always does when she’s about to drop a bomb. “Paige, this family doesn’t need more scandal. Your rock star cousin’s misadventures with addiction and strange men—”
“Mom, Milah’s a pop star,” I correct, trying not to laugh.
She only made a fortune and fame around the world with her music, and Mom still can’t nail down the right genre. Her sister, Liv, is a bestselling women’s fiction author.
I made it through art school with a 3.75 average.
Yay me.
“Whatever. She’s so famous, she shines a spotlight everywhere she goes. Milah’s last overdose was all over the news for months. Then that mafia hit with the girls...it was all anyone talked about.”
Let’s be real. It was all over the world. Milah is an international sensation.
“And Milah’s been clean for a long time, Mom. She just needed help, and Liv got through everything and landed a hot new husband. I wish I could have those Enguard guys cleaning up my problems. Besides, Milah’s married to her music. It can’t be easy when you’re famous.”
My art will never rival hers. She has a dedication I’m still chasing, and a talent made to tap the sweet spot of eighty million people looking for their next earworm.
“Back in my day, people kept that kind of drama quiet.”
I laugh. “Now you sound like Gran.”
“Sorry. She did raise me, after all. But our family doesn’t need more scandal. I don’t. I didn’t sleep for weeks when I was worried sick over your poor cousins.” She sighs.
“Oh, Mom, I’m not in that kind of danger. Thank God. If you want to fret over me playing charades with a man who has his crap together and just gets a little growly sometimes, stock up on melatonin,” I say with a smirk.
“All I’m saying is, think about things, dear. I don’t want you hurt.”
“And I’m just saying it’s too late now. I signed a contract with a mammoth payoff. I have to see it through.”
Also, I can’t bear to see it end.
Not after the frantic nights we’ve shared under the hot glow of fiery kisses. When the contract is up, it’s going to suck royally, coming back to real life. I can’t tell her that, though.
“I don’t understand why this circus has to go on if it’s over. When the client signs, are you still keeping up the ruse?”
“Ninety days, Mom, and we’re about a third of the way there,” I say. “I can’t leave Ward hanging.”