Pretend to Want Me

Ava.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped me as I pushed open the heavy glass door of Café Noir. At least, I think that's what I smelled. My senses were a bit dull that morning, probably from the three—or was it four?—international video calls I'd fielded before most people had even hit snooze. Being CEO of a multinational corporation meant my day started when normal people were still dreaming. Not that I'm complaining. I loved my job. Most days.

"The usual, Ava?" Sarah, the barista, called over the hiss of the espresso machine.

I nodded, fumbling for my wallet. "Please. And maybe an extra shot today?"

Sarah laughed. "Rough morning already?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, though to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure how my morning had gone. It was all a blur of spreadsheets and shareholder expectations.

As I waited for my latte, I leaned against the cool marble countertop, idly scrolling through my phone. The café buzzed with the usual morning crowd – a mix of business types, students, and the occasional tourist. A man in an expensive suit was gesticulating wildly as he spoke into his bluetooth earpiece. I rolled my eyes. Amateur. I would never be so obvious about my business dealings in public. At least, I didn't think I would.

My phone vibrated. Dad's smiling face lit up the screen. I considered ignoring it—I was in no mood for his usual cheerful banter—but guilt won out. I answered with what I hoped was a neutral "Hi, Dad."

"Ava, sweetheart!" His voice was breathless with excitement. "Why didn't you tell me? I had to hear about my only daughter's engagement from the morning news!"

I nearly dropped my phone. "What engagement?"

"Yours! To Alex Russo. It's everywhere. 'Tech Titans to Tie the Knot.' Catchy, isn't it?"

The world tilted. Or maybe that was just me, stumbling backwards into a nearby table. "Dad, there's been a mistake. I'm not engaged to Alex Russo."

Was I? No, that was ridiculous. I think I'd remember agreeing to marry the man I'd once called "The Bane of My Existence" during a particularly heated board meeting. Though, come to think of it, I had been pretty drunk at last week's charity gala...

"No need to be coy, sweetheart," Dad chuckled. "I know you two have had your differences, but the way you talk about him... all that passion had to lead somewhere!"

I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. Had I really been talking about Alex that much? Surely not. Although, there was that time I spent an entire girls' night ranting about his "infuriatingly perfect hair" and "stupidly charming smile." But that was just venting, right?

"Don't you worry about a thing," Dad continued, oblivious to my internal crisis. "I'll handle all the arrangements. You just focus on being happy, okay?"

"But Dad—"

"Oh, I've got to call your Aunt Sarah! She'll be over the moon. Love you, sweetie!"

The line went dead. I stared at my phone, then at my now-cold latte. What just happened?

A gust of wind sent a flurry of golden leaves dancing around my feet as I stepped outside. I watched them swirl, my mind racing. How did a simple misunderstanding spiral so quickly out of control? It was a misunderstanding, wasn't it? I mean, I think I'd remember getting engaged. Then again, I couldn't quite recall what I had for dinner last night, so who knows?

The smart thing would be to call Alex immediately. To coordinate our responses, to nip this ridiculous rumor in the bud before it spread any further. To laugh it off as the absurd mix-up it clearly was.

So why was my finger hovering over his contact info, unable to press 'call'?

And why couldn't I shake the feeling that some small, traitorous part of me was... intrigued?

No. Absolutely not. I was not excited about a fake engagement to Alex Russo. I was annoyed. Furious, even.

Wasn't I?

I tossed my unfinished latte in a nearby trash can, the thud echoing my resolve. I needed answers, and I knew exactly where to find them.

Alex Russo had some serious explaining to do. Assuming, of course, that I hadn't somehow agreed to marry him in a caffeine-deprived haze and completely forgotten about it. It wouldn't be the strangest thing I'd done before my morning coffee.

The Russo Corp building loomed ahead, its glass facade reflecting the morning sun. As I approached, my determination wavered. What was I even going to say? 'Hey Alex, are we engaged? Because I honestly can't remember if I agreed to that or not.'

Too late for second thoughts. The revolving door spun me into the sleek lobby, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The receptionist looked up, recognition flickering in her eyes.

"Ms. Silver? I didn't know you had an appointment today."

I forced a smile. "Last minute thing. Is Alex—I mean, Mr. Russo available?"

She frowned, tapping at her computer. "He's in a meeting, but—"

"Great, thanks!" I called over my shoulder, already halfway to the elevators. I'd apologize later. Probably.

The ride up felt endless. I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls – flushed cheeks, wild eyes. I looked... well, exactly like someone who'd just found out they were fake-engaged to their business rival. Or maybe real-engaged. God, I needed more coffee.

With a soft 'ding', the doors opened onto the executive floor. I strode past Alex's protesting secretary and burst into his office without knocking.

"We need to talk. Now."

And there he was, Alex Russo in all his infuriating glory, looking up from his desk with those piercing blue eyes. For a moment, I forgot why I was even there. Then reality came crashing back.

"Ah, Ava," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of my fiancée's company this fine morning?"

Wait, what?

I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. Had I missed something?

"I'm not your fiancée," I said, though it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

Alex's eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly perfect way of his. "Oh? That's not what the entire internet seems to think. Or your father, for that matter. He just called to congratulate me on finally 'making an honest woman' out of you."

My face burned. Of course Dad had called Alex. He'd probably called everyone in Seattle by now. "This is clearly some kind of mistake," I said, trying to regain my footing. "We need to issue a statement, clear things up before—"

"Before what?" Alex interrupted, rising from his chair. When had he gotten so tall? Or had his office shrunk? "Before we reap the benefits of being Seattle's new power couple?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to have settled over my thoughts. "Benefits? What are you talking about?"

Alex moved around his desk, perching on the edge of it. His cologne wafted towards me – something woodsy and expensive. Had he always smelled this good? Focus, Ava.

"Think about it," he said, his voice low and persuasive. "Our clean energy project has been facing opposition at every turn. But now? We're the golden couple of the tech world. People love a good romance, especially when it comes with the promise of saving the planet."

I opened my mouth to argue, but found myself considering his words. The project had been struggling lately. And the amount of press we'd get from this... No. This was insane.

"So, what?" I said, crossing my arms. "We just pretend to be engaged? For how long? And what happens when people realize it's all a sham?"

Alex shrugged, the movement causing his perfectly tailored shirt to stretch across his shoulders. Not that I noticed. "We ride the wave of good publicity, push the project through, then have an amicable split. No harm, no foul."

It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But surely there were a million reasons why this was a terrible idea. I just... couldn't seem to think of any at the moment.

I stared at him, my mind whirling. This was crazy. Absolutely insane. There was no way I was going to agree to this harebrained scheme.

But then again... maybe... just maybe...

No. I needed to put a stop to this right now. I took a deep breath, ready to tell Alex exactly where he could shove his fake engagement idea.

"Alex, I—"

A knock at the door interrupted me. Alex's secretary poked her head in. "Mr. Russo? Your 11 o'clock is here."

Alex held up a hand, his eyes never leaving mine. "One moment, Janet." He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. "Well, Ava? What's it going to be? Are you in, or out?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What was I doing? This was Alex Russo, for crying out loud. The man who'd made my professional life hell for the past year. The last person on earth I should be considering a fake engagement with.

And yet...

"I..." I started, not entirely sure what I was going to say next.

***