Chapter 2 · Stand-In: A Gold Digger's Playbook

Jonathan's face darkened. He hung up and opened his social media.

The hashtag, sitting pretty at number three on the trending list, screamed in digital neon, [Jonathan Reed's little bird caught two-timing with Lucas Ford, the tech mogul].

Although the image was blurred, there was no mistaking the "innocent-but-alluring" dress I had spent hours picking out to maintain my persona. To make matters worse, Lucas' iconic gold-rimmed glasses were practically a fingerprint.

I was screwed.

In an instant, my sapphire necklace vanished into thin air. My cozy apartment and those sun-drenched beaches dissolved like a cruel mirage.

Jonathan set the phone down without a single word, his gaze locking onto mine with a lethal stillness that could have frozen a summer noon.

My survival instincts screamed in my ear.

I needed to vanish before he processed the fact that I had played him like a cheap fiddle. Otherwise, he might lock me up or throw me in the river.

I shot to my feet, grabbing my purse from the sofa. I forced a wobbly smile, stammering, "Jonathan, I... I just need to use the restroom..."

Without waiting for a response, I took off, sprinting for the door in my three-inch heels like my life depended on it.

I yanked the door open, slipped out, and slammed it shut behind me.

The whole escape was flawless, worthy of a professional assassin.

From behind the door, I thought I heard his enraged voice shout my name, "Camille Grant!"

I told myself I heard nothing.

I tore down the emergency stairwell, my heels threatening to snap my ankles. I kicked them off and ran barefoot.

Thankfully, we were in the presidential suite on the top floor. I ran down five flights before I dared to sneak back into the hallway. I found a janitor's closet, slipped inside, and locked the door.

My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would burst out of my chest.

I leaned against the cool wall, gasping for breath.

My phone was still buzzing. I knew it was either Jonathan or my best friend, Gigi Gilbert, the ultimate chaos-seeker who lived for the drama of a high-profile scandal.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone. As expected, it was a text from Jonathan: [Running? You have three minutes to get your ass back here and explain.]

How was I even supposed to explain this? Should I tell him that I was just being a dedicated professional, diligently juggling my multiple jobs?

Scrolling down, I found a message from Lucas: [What's this trending topic? Need help making it go away?]

He actually thought he was helping by trying to kill the story online. All he was really doing was making things a thousand times worse.

Then came the final blow: a text from Sebastian, who loved stirring the pot more than anyone.

[Hey, gorgeous. I hear things went sideways for you. Need sanctuary? You know where to find me.]

I was stunned.

Was there some kind of secret hotline they were all on? The speed of the gossip mill was honestly terrifying.

I frantically texted Gigi: [SOS! I'm toast! I'm done here with Jonathan, and the other thing with Lucas is probably shot to hell now! Get me the first flight out of the country! Anywhere!]

Gigi replied instantly: [Holy shit! You're a legend! Juggling two guys at once and getting publicly outed for it? Iconic. Hold on, I'm on flights now. But I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?]

I texted back immediately: [Seriously, not the time for games! Spill it!]

Gigi replied: [The good news is, Jonathan's dream girl, Sophie Turner, is back in the country early!]

I texted: [No way! For real?]

It was a miracle. With the actual dream girl back in town, who was going to care about me, the stand-in?

Gigi's next text landed like a lead balloon: [The bad news is Sebastian's dream girl, the dancer who went abroad to study, is coming back next week, too.]

I fell silent.

Gigi: [And get this. Lucas' first love just got divorced, and she's been super active back in the country lately.]

I was stunned.

Had I just stumbled into a minefield and simultaneously triggered every single landmine set by the city's most eligible, emotionally unavailable bachelors?

What did I do to deserve this?

Chapter 2

Jonathan's face darkened. He hung up and opened his social media.

The hashtag, sitting pretty at number three on the trending list, screamed in digital neon, [Jonathan Reed's little bird caught two-timing with Lucas Ford, the tech mogul].

I was screwed.

In an instant, my sapphire necklace vanished into thin air. My cozy apartment and those sun-drenched beaches dissolved like a cruel mirage.

Jonathan set the phone down without a single word, his gaze locking onto mine with a lethal stillness that could have frozen a summer noon.

My survival instincts screamed in my ear.

I needed to vanish before he processed the fact that I had played him like a cheap fiddle. Otherwise, he might lock me up or throw me in the river.

I shot to my feet, grabbing my purse from the sofa. I forced a wobbly smile, stammering, "Jonathan, I... I just need to use the restroom..."

Without waiting for a response, I took off, sprinting for the door in my three-inch heels like my life depended on it.

I yanked the door open, slipped out, and slammed it shut behind me.

The whole escape was flawless, worthy of a professional assassin.

From behind the door, I thought I heard his enraged voice shout my name, "Camille Grant!"

I told myself I heard nothing.

I tore down the emergency stairwell, my heels threatening to snap my ankles. I kicked them off and ran barefoot.

Thankfully, we were in the presidential suite on the top floor. I ran down five flights before I dared to sneak back into the hallway. I found a janitor's closet, slipped inside, and locked the door.

My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would burst out of my chest.

I leaned against the cool wall, gasping for breath.

My phone was still buzzing. I knew it was either Jonathan or my best friend, Gigi Gilbert, the ultimate chaos-seeker who lived for the drama of a high-profile scandal.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone. As expected, it was a text from Jonathan: [Running? You have three minutes to get your ass back here and explain.]

How was I even supposed to explain this? Should I tell him that I was just being a dedicated professional, diligently juggling my multiple jobs?

Scrolling down, I found a message from Lucas: [What's this trending topic? Need help making it go away?]

He actually thought he was helping by trying to kill the story online. All he was really doing was making things a thousand times worse.

Then came the final blow: a text from Sebastian, who loved stirring the pot more than anyone.

[Hey, gorgeous. I hear things went sideways for you. Need sanctuary? You know where to find me.]

I was stunned.

Was there some kind of secret hotline they were all on? The speed of the gossip mill was honestly terrifying.

I frantically texted Gigi: [SOS! I'm toast! I'm done here with Jonathan, and the other thing with Lucas is probably shot to hell now! Get me the first flight out of the country! Anywhere!]

I texted back immediately: [Seriously, not the time for games! Spill it!]

Gigi replied: [The good news is, Jonathan's dream girl, Sophie Turner, is back in the country early!]

I texted: [No way! For real?]

It was a miracle. With the actual dream girl back in town, who was going to care about me, the stand-in?

Gigi's next text landed like a lead balloon: [The bad news is Sebastian's dream girl, the dancer who went abroad to study, is coming back next week, too.]

I fell silent.

Gigi: [And get this. Lucas' first love just got divorced, and she's been super active back in the country lately.]

I was stunned.

Had I just stumbled into a minefield and simultaneously triggered every single landmine set by the city's most eligible, emotionally unavailable bachelors?

What did I do to deserve this?