The Faking Game (The Billionaire Games #1)

by Olivia Hayle

To all the people-pleasing girls who grew into women afraid of setting boundaries. May you find the courage to draw them, and the love that says yes to you anyway.

The best part about going to a nightclub is when you finally get to leave.

The problem with being a chronic people-pleaser who hates conflict is that life is nothing but constant conflict.

Be present. Let them see the real you. You don’t have to perform for them.

She’s going to be so angry at me. The idea shouldn’t make my blood run hotter. But it does, because should really never works around her.

You have never had a problem being yourself around me. If he was the love of your life, you’d still be in there. Or the two of you lovebirds would be on the phone all night after this. I’d be a good villain to bond over.”

It’s easy to be nice in texts. It’s harder to be authentic in person.

You can say yes and then change your mind. You can say no and not have it kill you. Or them. You can negotiate boundaries and compromise.

It’s one thing I’ve learned in modeling over the years. Smile. Look happy. Never let anyone know that you’re uncomfortable, or upset, or hurting. Never let anyone see you. Let them see what they want to.

There’s something unexpected in her beauty, something unique. It hits you right beneath the breastbone. She’s not someone you look at and forget.

“Thanks?” I fumble for another compliment, trying to think of anything else. That he’s painfully handsome but seems not to care about his appearance. That he’s intimidating and scowls a lot, that he’s powerful. That I’m aware every single time he steps into a room. He’s magnetic. But I can’t tell his sister that.

She looks like a model. Which she is. Pretty as a fucking painting, and trouble if I’ve ever seen it.

“If you’re pretending to be my girlfriend, you’re only dating me.” I press my hands flat against the table. “So if you want to practice? You’ll practice with me.”

“You want expensive dinners, Nora? You want flowers, and chocolates, and to flirt with no consequence?” His eyes are that amber color, the one that makes my stomach tighten. “Do it with me.”

She has men fawning over her. She must have. She’s stunning, and kind, and smart. And if she struggles to leave or set boundaries? Well, that’s a problem. And it’s not one I want her to have. She may be sparkly and beautiful and smiling with the world, but she has fangs. I’ve seen her use them with me. It’s my favorite version of her.

I once dreamed of him looking at me like this. Now he is, and it undoes me. And I hate that I’m still attracted to him after everything. After what he said. After agreeing to help me out only to do his best friend a favor. I shouldn’t wonder what his kiss would really feel like. And right now I hate that part of me.

She likes these kinds of compliments, I’ve noticed. Maybe not the ones that make her feel ogled or like an object. She’s had enough of those. But she loves being praised. Good thing I fucking love praising her.

“That was magnificent,” I tell her honestly. “And now? What would you do?” “Run. You know I’m fast.” She’s still grinning. “Yes, you are. You’ll run and you’ll call for help. You’ll call me.” “And you’ll come?” I push up the sleeve of my shirt. “Always.”

“You should have let me pay for all of this.” “What? No. This is my collection.” “And you’re my girlfriend.” “Fake girlfriend.” “Fake or real, you’re mine,” I say. The words feel better than they should. “Take my card next time.”

“If you want to practice kissing, trouble, practice it with me.”

“You’re the prettiest little liar I’ve ever met.”

“Everyone’s looking at you. You’ve never been here before. They’re interested. And you look…” My breath catches. From somewhere left of us, a loud moan cuts above the music. “Like what?” “Like you don’t belong,” he says. “Like an angel that’s wandered into hell.”

And because I’ve looked far, far too much at her over the years. And once I saw the real her, it was the only version I wanted.

I’m jealous of men she hasn’t met yet. Irrationally, desperately jealous. And furious at all the ways they’ll fail to deserve her.

It fucking wrecks me that I’m one of the few people she feels safe enough to be mostly herself around. That she doesn’t preen or pretend for me, doesn’t offer me fake smiles or hide her opinion.

She smiles beneath my thumb, and I’m lost. Maybe I always was. But this is the moment I know it, wholly and completely. There’s no recovering from her.

It hurts to look at her. That’s the way her beauty is: a dagger, sharp and piercing. And yet the pain doesn’t stop me from looking.

And if you want to be adored, well… I’d adore you.

I’ve been afraid of ruining her, but here she is, ruining me. Lesson by lesson and day by day.

“Be a good girl and get angry,”

“You’d marry me?” His voice is hot and half broken. “You’d marry me.” “Yes. You’d get to keep the estate.” I smile against his lips. See how much I want this? “But I want the cat. He’s mine.” “You can have him. He doesn’t like me anyway.”

“West,” I murmur. His eyes are incredulous. “You love me?” “Yes.” I smile at him, a bit shy. “This is what it feels like, right? Like I’ve been given an extra dose of energy, of self-confidence, of happiness. Like I can’t focus, can’t think when you’re not around. Like you’re my favorite person in the world. The person I can be myself with.” “I think so.” He’s smiling now, and rain continues to pour down outside, but in here, it’s blazing summer. “That’s how it feels for me. Like you’ve become the center of my universe.” “You haven’t…?” “Before you? No.” “I guess you can’t teach me this, then.” My nails scrape gently over the back of his neck, his hair tickling my fingers. “We’ll have to figure it out together.”