Chapter 4: Ground Rules and Grand Gestures

Selena’s POV 

“Ground rules?” I asked, my eyebrows raised and my arms crossed. This whole situation felt surreal. How did I get myself into this? Everything felt like a dream. As if asking me to play pretend girlfriend wasn’t enough, he also has rules. 

“Yeah, ground rules,” he repeated, his blue eyes watching me. “We need to be on the same page if this is going to work. Justin’s eyes were a huge distraction for me. Sometimes they appeared blue, other times green.

“And what exactly are these ‘ground rules’?” I asked, furrowing my brows and trying to push the unholy thoughts I had of Justin behind me. 

“Rule number one,” he began, his voice low and smooth. “No falling in love.” 

I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Please, Mr. Branson. The only thing I’m falling for is a glass of whiskey after this conversation.” I muttered. But did I have to say that though? 

He chuckled, a deep velvety sound that made my heart skip a beat. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

His smile reminded me of the man I had shared a passionate night with. Not this proud and arrogant man standing in front of me. 

“Rule number two: We show a united front to the public and the media. No fighting, no disagreements, no hint that this is anything less than genuine.” 

“Easy peasy,” I blurted out, the words coming out before my brain kicked in. Mental note: Think before speaking, Selena!

“Rule number three,” he continued, his gaze locking mine. “No personal questions. We keep our personal lives..private.” 

I hesitated. My personal life was a total disaster - a messy mix of family drama, crazy emotions and twin step-sisters who loved to stir up trouble. But he already knew some of these. It had slipped out during my drunken meltdown. 

“Fine,” I replied. “We keep our personal lives private.” 

“Good,” he said, satisfaction written all over his face. “Now let’s talk about the gala.” 

The gala was my chance to shine and prove to everyone, including my family, that I was good at my job. I had written a proposal to plan this huge event, which had helped convince a potential investor, Justin, to take a chance on our struggling company. 

At the time, I had no idea who Branson and Co. was, but I knew our company was on the verge of shutting down. My proposal, along with some other factors, had given Justin a reason to believe in us. But here's the thing: he had no idea I was the one who wrote it.

“Let’s go to my office,” Justin said, cutting through my train of thought. 

“What about the reporters and the paparazzis?” I asked my heart racing and my palms sweating. 

“They’re gone. They’ve been gone for a while now, security took care of them”. 

I heaved a sigh of relief. But if they’ve been gone for a while, why didn’t Justin say anything about that? Why did he keep us standing for as long as we did? 

He led the way, and I followed closely behind him. We spent the next hour discussing the gala, going over every detail. From floral arrangements to the eating charts. Justin was surprisingly involved. He even offered suggestions and made decisions that both impressed and intimidated me.

I shut his office door behind me, the cool doorknob a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in my head. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control. My love life was a mess, I had a fake boyfriend, and the charity gala was looming over me like a mountain. 

And then there were my family issues - a never-ending drama fest that was more exhausting than a marathon. My life had officially become a hot mess express, and I was just trying to stay on track.

Hailey was waiting for me at my desk, arms crossed and her eyes wide with curiosity. “So what did the big, bad billionaire want?”

I signed, collapsing into my chair. “He wants me to be his fake girlfriend,” I whispered. 

Hailey gasped. “No way! Selena, this is insane!”

“I know right” I replied, my voice flat. “He didn’t give me much of a choice. Besides, he's quite persuasive.” 

“Persuasive? Or just really, really hot?” Hailey teased, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“He’s not my type, Hailey. He’s a jerk and a snob. Maybe a little bit attractive but that’s all.” I was finding it hard to believe the words that came out of my mouth. 

“Okay okay, I hear you,” Hailey said, holding up her hands. “But be careful and remember that this ‘Mr. Not Your Type’ literally rocked your world a few days ago. She added smirking. 

Even though there were some truths in what Hailey said, I didn’t want to read much meaning to it. I wasn’t going to worry until there was something to worry about.

Later that evening, I headed to my mom's place in Westchester. Her mansion was a total contrast to the tiny Brooklyn apartment I shared with Hailey. My stepdad, Rick Baldwin, was a big shot in the business world, and they lived a life of luxury that felt like a different planet to me.

My mom gave me a weak smile, her eyes roving over my outfit, my hair, everything. It was like she was looking for something to pick apart. She always made me feel like I wasn't good enough, like I was somehow flawed.

"Hey, Selena," she said, her voice distant. "What brings you here?"

“Just wanted to see you,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite the anxiety raving over me. My mom’s expression was neutral, blank even. 

“How nice. We’re having a dinner party tonight, so you’re welcome to join in. Maybe you can meet a few influential people who can help get your life together” she said. I could feel the sarcasm and bitterness in her tone as she spoke. It made my skin crawl. 

I hesitated. The thought of spending the evening with my mom and stepdad, surrounded by their rich friends, made me want to hide. But I knew that saying no would only make things worse for me. All I had to do was smile and pretend like I was having a good time. It shouldn’t be so hard.

“Fine,” I said, exhaling slowly. “Sounds great.” 

The party was just as awkward as I thought it would be. Everyone was stiff and formal, and they all seemed to look down on me. My stepsisters, Gigi and Gia, were there, sucking up to their dad and barely even acknowledging me. It was pretty typical behavior from them. 

My stepdad, Mr. Baldwin was super wealthy, and my mom remarried him quickly after my dad passed away when I was little. I was raised by my grandparents until they passed away too. Mr. Baldwin never really wanted anything to do with me, so my mom kept me at a distance. 

Even after Gigi and Gia were born, nothing changed. And to make things more awkward, Gigi and Gia are also event planners, which feels like they're just trying to one-up me and prove they're better.

I stood alone in the corner, sipping my wine and feeling like a total outsider. This wasn't my scene, and I never felt like I fit in. Just as I was starting to feel like I was going to be stuck there forever, I felt a hand on my arm. 

I turned to see my stepdad standing next to me, his eyes giving me the usual cold, judgmental stare.

“Selena,” he said, his voice low. “I want to talk to you. This concerns your mother as well.” 

Here we go again, I thought to myself.

“She’s worried sick about you,” he continued. “Your… lifestyle. Your choice of friends.” 

“My friends are fine,” I retorted, my voice sharper than I intended. 

“If they’re so great, then why are you trending for the wrong reasons,” he asked, his voice hardening. “You need to start taking your life seriously, Selena. You’re not a kid. You would never see your sisters behave in this manner.” 

I let out a silent sigh. So now they’re my sisters. We have never even spent an entire day together, much less spent a holiday together. How were they, my sisters? 

“I’m taking my life seriously,” I replied. “I have a job, I have my apartment. I’m doing just fine. I wasn’t up for conversations like this right now. I already had a lot on my plate.

“Fine? You call that fine?” he scoffed. “You’re barely surviving as an event planner, living in a cramped apartment with that friend of yours. He said. 

“You need to get your life together, find a decent guy and maybe settle down. And stop chasing after billionaires like Justin. Also, I suggest you start looking to change careers or something,” he added dryly.

He spat out these words with such anger and resentment like he'd been harboring a grudge against me forever. But the truth was, he knew nothing about me – and he didn't care to.

“I’ll decide what’s best for me,” I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. “And also, the billionaire and I are in a real relationship”. I had no idea why I said that or if it was even necessary but my stepdad was pushing my buttons.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re as stubborn as your dad was.” 

The mention of my dad, who had passed away when I was a kid, felt like a low blow. I bit my lips trying to keep myself together. 

“Don’t even go there!” I shouted, my eyes stinging. “Just leave me alone!” He smirked and walked away, leaving me super alone and vulnerable. I scanned the room, feeling like an outsider among all the happy, laughing faces. 

I slipped out of my stepdad's mansion, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Back in Brooklyn, I stepped out of the cab and back into my comfort zone, but that was short-lived.

A sleek black sedan parked across the street caught my eye - it looked wildly out of place in our quiet neighborhood. My instincts kicked in, and I quickened my pace, my hand reaching for the pepper spray in my purse. 

But before I could react, someone grabbed me, clamping a hand over my mouth and dragging me into the sedan. The car sped away, plunging me into darkness and leaving me trapped and helpless.