Chapter One
AXEL
This is my break. The miracle I’ve been looking for. The light at the end of a very long tunnel. A tunnel I threw myself in. Because I’m an idiot who falls for shady, selfish assholes. I shake off that last thought and play with my cufflinks for the millionth time.
I want to check the time but I don’t wear a watch and I’m scared that if I pull out my phone, they’ll walk in at that exact moment and I’ll look like an asshole. So I twist my cufflink instead and try to stay calm. I don’t know what job they’re offering me but unless it’s head clothing designer or bathing suit runway model, I am confident I’m qualified.
I built a PR company from the ground up. I went from making seventeen thousand my first year to one point four million last year. I did that. No matter what Eric tells people, I know it was all me. And yeah, Allard Couture is an already established, billion-dollar mega-brand, but I can put out mega-fires.
The door to the room opens and a tall, slender man in an Allard suit walks in with a cool smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Walsh.”
I stand and lean forward to shake his hand across the table as a shorter, rounder man in a different Allard suit walks in. “Hi. Damien Fischer. I’m head of legal.”
“Oh and I’m Henri Boutin,” the first guy, whose voice I recognize as the one who arranged the interview, says. “And this is Louis Allard.”
Before I can register what’s happening the man who built the company saunters into the room, closing the door behind him. He turns and greets me with a warm, but brief smile and extends his hand. “Bonjour. I’m Louis. Please have a seat.”
I am going to faint. Louis Allard is interviewing me? It’s like applying for a job at the White House and having the President interview you. I am not prepared. And I am most certainly not prepared for the next thing that happens.
“So listen, Axel,” Damien says, dropping his elbows onto the table. “We have a unique situation. And you might be the right fit.”
And then, Damien the lawyer, asks me to sign a non-disclosure form. Which I do without even reading because I know how this business works. I have to pretend this never happened, this meeting, or I get sued. Fine. But why? Why is there an NDA at a job interview?
My question gets answered as Damien takes the signed form back and launches into a story I’ve heard at least fifty times before. Rich guy gets accused of something inappropriate by a woman. Rich man denies wrongdoing. Woman sues. Only the name in this story is one I know. Gabriel Allard. Son of the man sitting across from me, an elite race car driver and also… a guy I once kissed.
“So… we’ve got a plan. Several actually,” Henri says and now it’s his turn to slide a file folder my way. “But we aren’t one hundred percent on any of them.”
I’ve seen this before. It’s a strategy package. This one has three different tactics outlined. I read them as quickly as possible. It’s nerve-wracking and I can’t stop thinking about the way Louis Allard is just sitting there silently, hands folded, eyes never leaving me, like he’s assessing me for some test I don’t know I’m taking. I let my mind assess the ideas and make a mental list of hits and misses, which is essentially like a pros and cons list.
“So if you’re asking my opinion, with the basic amount of information I have,” I pause. “I would go with strategy one.”
“The fake relationship,” Damien reaffirms and gets a big grin on his face when I nod.
I honestly don’t like the idea of Gabriel, the best kiss of my life, fake dating someone but it’s been years, and it’s not like I pined for him. I didn’t. I was embroiled in a long, horrible relationship, and Gabriel… well I’ve seen his face in tabloids and on gossip sites with various women hanging off him. And there was the pregnancy scandal a couple months ago.
I hadn’t been following Gabriel Allard’s life (I mean sure maybe a quick Google search every now and then), but my best friend is also an F1 driver and I listen when he talks about work. Also, the media kind of blew that paternity thing right up. It was everywhere. It isn’t every day a fashion mogul’s only child is accused of fathering a child with a one-night stand.
“Mr. Walsh?” Louis Allard says firmly.
Oh my God, I just spaced out in the middle of the biggest interview of my life. Was Eric right? Am I not cut out for this anymore? I sit straighter and refocus.
“Fake dating has so many advantages here,” I explain confidently. “One, it diverts public interest from the woman in question to the new one. Two, it shows a human side to the accused, which is the perfect way to combat the negative press that is sure to be written. Three, the public loves a good love story, and they see people in love as better, kinder, and more likely to be innocent than perpetually single people. It’s an absolute flaw in the human brain, but it’s true. So the caveat here is you need to make sure both the client and the person you hire for the role of significant other are on board. Have chemistry. And PDA is required.”
Well, that was quite the soliloquy. I feel my face start to heat. I mean, I know that everything I said is true, but I still feel a swell of panic because all three of these men are not just looking at me, but examining me. I feel like I’m missing something big. “Is the job I’m here for related to this problem? Because I thought I was here for an Allard Couture position.”
“It is in fact related to this issue,” Damien confirms.
All the hope and positive energy I’ve been feeling since I got the call from Henri fizzles in my chest like a defective firework. I can’t work with Gabriel Allard. And I can’t tell them why. I haven’t told anyone about that night. Not even Billy. And I don’t intend to tell anyone, ever. “What could I possibly add to the situation? You seem to have it under control. I mean, you’ve got a solid plan to implement.”
They stop looking at me and start looking at each other. My anxiety ratchets up as I try to figure out what the absolute fuck is going on here. Louis Allard leans forward, his eyes, which are the color of melted caramel, hold mine. “I have two more questions for you. What happened to your company? Why are you here, interviewing with us, when you created and ran one of the most successful PR companies in Australia?”
Shit. I blink. Look away and then look back. I have a bucket of canned responses I’ve been practicing. I didn’t like the administrative work that comes with running a company. I needed a new challenge. I wanted more global work. I decided to move on before burnout happened. The problem with standard, canned responses is that people like Louis Allard know what they are. So I do the stupidest thing possible and tell him the truth. “My accounts manager decided to leave the company and took the top ten percent of my clients with him.”
Mr. Allard doesn’t look shocked. “And you couldn’t make it work with the other ninety percent?”
“I could have. But the top ten were seventy-five percent of my revenue.” I feel my palms get moist, so I press them into my pant legs under the table. “The accounts manager also tried to muddy my name. He made some massive errors in campaigns and blamed me for it to the clients. So I would have had to rebuild more than the just fiscally, and I wasn’t in the headspace to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was also going through a break-up from a six-year relationship,” I admit. “With my former account manager.”
Now Louis Allard looks shocked. But the expression moves quickly off his face. He’s not one to let things throw him off. He wouldn’t be as successful as he is if he was. I sigh and start to stand up, figuring we’re done here. I mean who is going to hire a guy who tanked his own company by dating the wrong guy. But Louis raises one single hand in the air. A finger actually. I notice the tattoo on his wrist as his sleeve slips down. A set of Roman numerals. I’m shocked someone of his age and stature has a tattoo. He’s still of the generation that kind of looks down on them. But again, that shows his maverick attitude. He wouldn’t be where he is if he toed the line either.
Mr. Allard motions for me to sit down. I hesitate. He gives me a hint of a smile. “I’m still looking for your services, Mr. Walsh so unless you aren’t interested in a position with Allard Couture, you should stay.”
I sit. Mr. Allard looks at Henri and Damien. They turn back to me. “So you asked how you can help in this strategy. Well, we need a person who can play the role of partner to Gabriel. And we want it to be you.”
Me? Fake date Gabriel Allard. The model handsome, sexy as hell, wild child who kissed me like it was the last thing he would ever do? The guy who is larger than life, passionate, bold, impetuous, and everything I am not and also not comfortable being around? I give them the only answer I can. “No.”