Insinuating herself between Ronan and me, she grabbed both of our elbows and pulled us forward down the hall.

“Joan,” I croaked, “I can explain.”

“No need, dear. It was brilliant. You are both brilliant.” She glanced at me and gave me something resembling a smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What?” I blurted, my wide eyes moving from her to Ronan. I found him looking at her in plain confusion. He was obviously just as befuddled as I was.

“The pictures. The laughing, the hugging, the kissing. It was all brilliant, though I wish you’d talked to me before putting your plan in action. But it’s fine. You’re perfect. You’re exactly what we want for Ronan’s image. Ian can’t believe he didn’t consider it before now. It makes complete sense, given your background. You’re the perfect candidate—you meet all the criteria.”

It was my imagination, I know for a fact it was; but I felt the world tilt, pitch to the side, and I heard the sound of a thousand screaming tea kettles in my ears.

“Wh-what?” I breathed, shaking my head, trying to bring Joan and Ronan and the hallway into focus.

Joan had no choice but to stop because my feet had stopped moving. She glanced at me with an expression that displayed her bemusement and gave me a once-over.

“Are you feeling well?”

“What do you mean I’m perfect? Perfect for what?”

She blinked at me. Her gaze flickered to Ronan and then returned to move over my face in a shrewd examination.

At length she said, “I mean that little act you two put on over the last hour was perfect. You, Annie, are perfect to act as Ronan’s fictional date, partner, and love interest for the foreseeable future…obviously.”

Chapter Nine

@RonanFitz: So this is Twitter. Can’t say I’m impressed.

@Tomsouthernchef: @RonanFitz Oh, go drink some prune juice, Granddad.

*Ronan*

For the second time in the space of a week, I felt like kissing Joan, and it wasn’t because she was such a handsome specimen of a woman. Seemingly, she was becoming my very own fairy godmother; I wasn’t yet sure if this was her intention, but I’d roll with it anyway.

Annie had gone very, very quiet ever since Joan announced her misunderstanding that we’d planned and staged our earlier interactions, that we’d planned for Annie to pose as my fake girlfriend. Her worry was written all over her face. In a way, I could understand her obvious reluctance since I’d been sending her gifts all week, and she probably thought I was some sort of obsessive psycho.

I’ll admit I’d been coming on a bit strong, but I was in New York all alone and had a lot of time on my hands. For some reason, over the past few days my mind had kept wandering to Annie, hence the gifts. So yeah, it was a combination of boredom and spending way too much time thinking about her lips and that lush little body of hers. I wanted in, and my dick thought presents would be the way to get there. God, I could still taste her on my tongue, could still hear the tiny moans she made, the way her breathing stilted and became sexy little pants.

I could also still taste the bitterness of her rejection. It hadn’t just caught me off guard; it had pissed me off. She didn’t want to change; she said she liked hiding in her comfortable little world, and yet the way she kissed me said otherwise. Now all I could think about was rattling her cage.

We followed Joan into the conference room where Rachel and Ian were waiting. Rachel wore a big, encouraging smile while Ian’s face was schooled into an expression of grudging respect with a dash of cynicism. Perhaps he suspected those photos of me and Annie weren’t so much staged as they were perfectly real.

I sat down on a chair, and Annie took the one beside me. Her movements were slow and awkward like she was in a daze, and when she placed her hands in her lap, I could see that they were shaking. I didn’t like seeing her like this. I knew she was reeling from the fact that pictures of us shoving our tongues down each other’s throats were currently making the rounds on the World Wide Web. And now I wanted to kill the Internet just for making her feel that way. I’d always been protective of the females in my life, but this was coming on so quickly it was almost disconcerting.

Reaching over, I tried to take one of her hands in mine to soothe her, but she quickly pulled away. The glance she gave me was a very clear communication: No.

“So, we’re a little ahead of the game with this,” Joan began as she sat down at the table. “Brona’s story won’t be going live on this side of the world until this evening, and already the Internet is abuzz with these pictures. Everyone loves it when a celebrity starts dating a non-celeb. It gives them hope that it could one day happen to them. I swear, you two” —she paused and waggled her finger between me and Annie— “this was a stroke of pure genius. Annie, darling, I may need to give you a raise.”

“There’s no need for that, Joan,” Annie said softly. “In fact, about those pictures….”

“We’re very surprised how quickly they got online. Shocked the fuck out of me, pardon my French. We were only at the café twenty minutes ago,” I cut in, sensing that Annie had been about to confess everything.

“Yes, Mr. Fitzpatrick, the wonders of modern technology continue to astound and amaze,” Joan replied. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a touch of sarcasm in her voice. Then she clapped her hands together. “There’s lots to do, lots to do, but first, the uncomfortable part. I need to ask you a question, and you need to answer me honestly.”