Faker: A Fake Relationship Romance by Christie Tegan

Author:Christie Tegan [Tegan, Christie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: I, Sisyphus Publications
Published: 2020-04-29T18:30:00+00:00

The next morning, I woke up to the table set for breakfast on the terrace. Espresso, juice, a platter of rolls and croissants, butter, jams, cheeses, olives, and ripe garden tomatoes. Tara started a torrid affair with a French man that Amadeo introduced her to. Fortunately for me, he has his own room in the villa, so I don’t have to make myself scarce in the dead of night. Cilla is stuck like Crazy Glue to Amadeo. I’m basically on my own. There’s a fantastically hot guy named Gianni who has been trying like mad to get to know me better, but I keep explaining to him about my situation. His English, though, is not so good. Or maybe Italian men do not care about pesky little things like marriages.

We thought the party that was going when we arrived was the party Amadeo invited us to, but we couldn’t be more wrong. The next night was the real party and it was insane. Famous international actors, singers, models, artists—you name it—were all in attendance. Paparazzi were trying like crazy to get photos using drones, but they were getting thwarted by drunken guests. Amadeo couldn’t keep guests from snapping shots and posting them online, but everyone expects that anyway. Which is why I have to be careful.

About ten o’clock when the party is in full swing, Tara rushes over and grabs my arm.

“Oh. My. God. Marley, you have got to see this.” She’s holding up her phone.

“What?”

She pulls the phone to her chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t show you.”

“Well, now you kinda have to. What is it?”

Her arm shoots out and hands me her phone. When I see the image, I can actually feel the blood drain from my face because it goes numb and cold. And then burning hot.

“That bastard. He told me we had to use discretion at all times, and here he is being photographed with another woman. I don’t think so.”

The photo is from a British news site and shows him on a yacht with a gorgeous woman with dark skin and golden hair. She has her arm on his shoulder and her body draped against him—like Kelly is fond of doing. What is it with these super-thin tall women? Can’t they hold up their own weight? They can’t weigh much more than a French fry.

After the initial shock wears off, I feel fire race through my veins. Okay. Two can play at the same game, Creed. There are some very handsome men hereabouts, men who I’ve been keeping at a distance as a good wife should. But maybe not anymore.

All it takes is this one good party and a tiny bit of friendliness, and my photo is plastered on multiple IG accounts. Since Fletcher’s publicist has my name tracked, it won’t take long to get back to him. My husband will be informed of my activities within a few hours—maybe less—of them being posted to various social media accounts and websites.

The party has spilled over into the

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