Young Billionaire Fakes a Relationship to Silence the Media. He Never Expected to Want Her for Real.

The Unexpected Arrangement

The flashing cameras were relentless, blinding him as he stepped out of the black Rolls-Royce. Julian Mercer had dealt with the press his entire life. Lately, they had turned into vultures, circling him with questions about his personal life.

“Mr. Mercer, is it true you’re dating the actress from last week’s gala?”

“Julian, are the rumors about your engagement real?”

“Julian, have you finally settled down?”

The headlines had been ruthless. “Billionaire Playboy Julian Mercer Caught in Another Scandal.” “Mercer Heir Still Avoids Commitment.” “Who’s His Next Fling?” They painted him as a reckless, untouchable man who hopped from one woman to the next.

Investors were starting to question his stability. Board members were whispering about his lack of a serious relationship. It was exhausting. He needed a solution, a distraction.

Then, as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, he saw her. She was standing near the entrance of the hotel, holding a tray of champagne flutes. She wasn’t supposed to be in the spotlight; she was staff.

Something about her caught his attention immediately. Maybe it was the way she stood chin high despite the chaos. Maybe it was the way her dark curls framed her face or the fire in her brown eyes as she glared at a man.

Julian didn’t think; he acted. In three strides, he reached her, slipped an arm around her waist, and whispered, “Play along.” Before she could protest, he turned to the cameras. With a slow, confident smirk, he declared, “This is my girlfriend.”

The world seemed to still. Her gasp was soft, barely audible over the journalists’ collective intake of breath. The reporters erupted into a frenzy, their voices overlapping as they hurled questions at them.

Julian ignored them, focusing instead on the woman standing stiffly beside him. She was staring at him like he had just announced her as the Queen of England.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed under her breath.

“Saving my reputation,” he murmured back, keeping his expression smooth for the cameras. “And apparently, you’re my savior.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“I don’t even know you.”

“Julian Mercer,” he introduced smoothly, pulling her in closer as the cameras clicked wildly. “And you are?”

She hesitated, then muttered, “Celeste Carter.”

“Lovely name,” he said, dipping his head as if he were whispering something romantic. “Now, Celeste, if you don’t want to be the center of a media storm, I suggest you follow my lead.”

Her fingers twitched against his chest. For a moment, he thought she might shove him away and cause an even bigger scene. But then she squared her shoulders, plastered on a dazzling albeit fake smile, and leaned into him.

“Fine,” she said sweetly. “But you owe me.”

Julian chuckled, low and approving. She had fire; he liked that. The cameras ate up every second of it. Twenty minutes later, Celeste was sitting in a private lounge, staring at the billionaire like he had lost his mind.

“You expect me to just pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Julian leaned back in his seat, his tailored suit flawless.

“For a short time, yes. Just long enough to silence the media.”

Celeste folded her arms.

“And what do I get out of this?”

He smirked. “What do you want?”

She hesitated. She should walk away, but rent was due, her student loans weren’t going away, and her hours might be cut.

“How much are you offering?” she finally asked.

Julian named a figure that made her mouth go dry.

“That’s a lot.”

“It’s pocket change for me.”

Celeste swallowed.

“And all I have to do is pretend to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes. We’ll go to events together, make a few public appearances, and after a few weeks, we’ll amicably break up.” He gave her a lazy smile. “No strings attached.”

She lifted her chin. “I have conditions.”

His brows rose. “Do you?”

“One: no touching unless absolutely necessary.”

Julian chuckled. “You seemed fine with it earlier.”

She scowled.

“Two: I keep my job. I’m not giving up my real life for this.”

“Done.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“I don’t expect you to drop everything for me.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto hers. “I just need you to make the world believe we’re real.”

Celeste studied him. He was too smooth, but this was business. Finally, she sighed.

“All right. I’ll do it.”

Julian extended his hand. “Then we have a deal, Celeste.”

She shook it, ignoring the jolt his touch sent up her spine. This was just an act, a temporary arrangement. At least, that’s what she told herself.