Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club Book 1)
Faking Ms. Right: Chapter 3

My assistant came into my office. She didn’t knock, but she was the one person who could get away with it. Probably because she never interrupted me when I was on a phone call or in a private meeting. She took my coat off the hook and draped it over her arm.

“You should get going or you’ll miss your reservation,” she said.

I glanced at the time. I did need to leave. Lateness was something I could not abide. I didn’t allow it in myself any more than I allowed it in others. But I’d been distracted, caught up reading a proposal.

I closed my laptop and put it in my briefcase, then stood, my mind already on the unpleasant dinner ahead of me. This had the potential to go very badly. Breaking things off with Svetlana in public was a risk. I hadn’t been seeing her for very long, but she had a flair for drama. I hoped I’d made the right call in taking her to a restaurant.

“I confirmed your reservation at Tulio,” she said, handing me my coat. “Do you want me to send you the menu?”

“No.” I slipped on my coat and pocketed my phone. I hadn’t finished reviewing the proposal. Tomorrow was going to be busy with meetings, so I’d have to go over it tonight. The sooner I finished this dinner, the better. Maybe I wouldn’t stay to eat. Get in, get out. Move on.

I fixed the collar of my coat and took my briefcase off the desk.

“Goodnight, Mr. Calloway,” she said as I walked out the door, heading for the parking garage.

This Svetlana thing had me distracted. I probably could have blown her off without seeing her in person again, but she struck me as the sort of woman who’d try to make trouble. If there was anything worse than a shitty breakup, it was a shitty breakup that made it into the press. She knew how private I was—how closely I guarded my personal life. If I pissed her off now, I was certain she’d make it as public as she possibly could. My best bet was to mollify her with money.

Not a direct bribe. I wouldn’t insult her by treating her like a prostitute. But I knew the sort of currency that had the potential to satisfy a woman like Svetlana. After all, that was why she’d been dating me in the first place.

I should have seen it in the beginning, but the woman’s acting ability deserved an Oscar. She’d approached me at a fundraiser, and her smile had caught me. To look at her, you’d think it would have been her body—because honestly, her body was insane—but it had been her smile. She’d smiled at me, wide and bright, and I’d known I was taking her home with me.

But at thirty-six, I was apparently still shit at judging authenticity, because her smile was as fake as her hair color.

Beneath that incredibly hot exterior, Svetlana was a nightmare. She was territorial, demanding, and whiny. She wanted a billionaire sugar daddy—a role I had no interest in playing—which was clearly why she’d set her sights on me.

Just like Brielle. And Sasha. And Marissa before her.

Clearly, I had a problem.

I was beginning to think I might be cursed. I wasn’t stupid. I knew it was normal for a man like me to attract a certain type of woman. In my younger days, I wouldn’t have dreamed I’d ever tire of the string of gorgeous women beating down my door. But they were all the same. A beautiful face and a hot body only went so far. It wasn’t that I was looking for something serious. I barely had room in my life for a casual relationship, let alone anything long-term. But spending time with a woman who wasn’t a viper disguised as a kitten would be a nice change.

My black Mercedes was parked near the elevator. I got in with a sense of resignation. I’d let her down easy, which would hopefully minimize the fallout. And if she did come after me, I’d handle it. As with any business deal, there were always work-arounds. Ways to cope with challenges and unforeseen problems.

Tulio was an upscale Italian restaurant. Small. Nice atmosphere. Good food. Svetlana wasn’t here yet, so I waited near the front.

I didn’t need to look up from my phone to know she’d arrived a few minutes later. The stir she caused wherever she went heralded her entrance.

Svetlana was beautiful in every sense of the word—physically, at least—and people noticed her. She’d been blessed with the best of nearly every feature, and had bought the rest. Perfect facial symmetry. Large eyes. Sleek nose. Full lips. Stunning curves. Just enough of her Bulgarian accent remained so she sounded pleasantly exotic.

She smiled at me, but I didn’t return it. Just nodded to the hostess that we were ready to be seated. We followed her to a table near the back. Svetlana paused while I pulled out her chair, but I didn’t kiss or touch her.

Her lower lip protruded as she took her seat. “You’re especially cold tonight.”

She hadn’t asked me a question, so I didn’t give her an answer. Just took off my coat and sat across from her.

“I have no idea what to order here,” she said, looking at the menu. “Everything has carbs.”

“Hmm,” I said, ignoring her thinly veiled complaint about my restaurant choice.

The waitress came back and asked if we’d like something to drink.

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” she asked.

“Nothing for me.”

She scowled and plucked the drink menu off the table. “Pomegranate martini, then.”

“I’ll be back with your drink,” the waitress said. “Then I can take your order.”

I decided I wasn’t ordering dinner. I had too much work to do.

“Svetlana, I’ve booked a ten-day vacation for two at an all-inclusive resort in Hawaii.” I reached into my jacket and pulled out an envelope with the information she would need. “Everything will be taken care of. Flights. Meals. Drinks. Even entertainment.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Shepherd, are you serious?”

“Yes, but I won’t be joining you.” I put the envelope in front of her. “You’re welcome to take anyone you’d like. Get in touch with my assistant to finalize the details. I’ve enjoyed your company the last couple of months, but we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at me. “You’re leaving me?”

Leaving me. It wasn’t the fact that English was her second language that made her choose that phrase. It made it sound as if I were divorcing her, not ending a casual fling.

“This has run its course,” I said.

“And what is that?” she asked, gesturing to the envelope. “You never take me anywhere, and now you’re getting rid of me by sending me on vacation by myself?”

“I said you can take whomever you like.”

“I can’t be bought, Shepherd.”

I raised an eyebrow. That was a fucking lie if I’d ever heard one. “Indeed. I thought it might be a pleasant distraction.” I plucked the envelope off the table. “But if you think I’ve insulted you, apparently I judged wrong. My apologies.”

Knowing she’d ask for it back, I made a show of tucking it back into my pocket.

“Well…” She paused and rolled her eyes. “I might as well use it, if it’s already booked.”

I set the envelope in front of her just as the waitress came back with her martini. I looked at the waitress. “Her dinner is on me. She can order whatever she’d like.”

“Of course, Mr. Calloway,” the waitress said.

I stood and grabbed my coat. “Good night.”

Without waiting for a reply from either Svetlana or the waitress, I turned and left.

That had gone much better than expected. In a few days, Svetlana would be off to Hawaii. When she returned, I had no doubt she’d find someone new. A woman like that wouldn’t be alone for long.

I would be, however. Having a woman in my life had never been anything but a complication. A distraction.

A disappointment.

Pushing aside the thoughts of Svetlana—and my dissatisfaction with dating in general—I went to my car. I had work to do tonight.

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