The Millionaire’s Fake Wedding

Her heart started beating faster. If he took off the towel and jumped into the pool, she would surely faint. He was a step away now.

Natalie’s voice stopped him in his place: “Bell, if I were you, I’d be filing harassment charges right about now. Al, get your di*k away from the poor girl!”

“Hey, I’m just messing around!” Allen said, and Belle thought he sounded genuine. Her heart was still racing.

“Go get dressed, we gotta go.” Allen went, squeezing between Natalie and the glass, and then she said: “Honey, don’t get comfortable, either. We’re out in ten.”

Fifteen minutes later they were on the road, with Allen leading the way behind the wheel of a Bentley coupe, and Belle beside in the passenger seat. Natalie was almost tailgating them.

“Hey, sorry about that, alright?” Allen said. “I like to have fun.”

“I figured.” Belle looked away. She was toying with him.

“People talk sh*t about me, but I’m not a bad guy, alright? One misstep, and everyone loses their mind! That’s stupid. And if it wasn’t for Candice…”

“What a name…” Belle added.

“I know, right? Point is – I like to have fun. It’s nobody’s business what that involves, so long as nobody gets hurt.”

Belle figured Allen had a lot to say on the subject, and she had the misfortune to be one of the few people who’d listen. Or, to be precise, had to listen, since it was in fact her job. She thought of the money then, and all doubts disappeared.

“That’s one way to look at it, Allen.”

“What do you think?”

“Me? I think people get too caught up in bullsh*t like this. Who cares about some athlete’s personal life? All due respect, of course. It was fun for a few days, I guess, but a whole year later? It should be let go.”

For the first time, it seemed, Allen Rodgers had nothing to say. He stepped on the gas some and looked into the rearview mirror.

“We’re miles ahead of her!”

They weren’t, but Allen began changing lanes every few seconds, and soon Natalie’s Audi was nowhere to be seen.

“See? Fun!” Allen smiled.

“Not really.”

“Not easily impressed, are we?”

“Not by this. Although, if you met me ten years ago…”

“Oh, please! Ten year you were what, eleven?”

“Sixteen,” Belle said. “And I think I still get impressed by things, just not as openly, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.”

They drove in silence for some time, except for the radio, and when a commercial for the game came on, Allen switched the channel to some pop music.

“Belle?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For taking on this job, I mean. I didn’t think I’d see anyone apart from crazy fan girls within a mile radius from me. They’re cool, but…”

“Crazy?”

“Exactly.”

Belle relaxed. She was just driving with a friend (with an ohmygod hot male friend), on her way to a game of basketball. It wasn’t so bad, after all.