Bright Lights and Summer Nights: A Fake Dating Billionaire Sports Romance (Black Tie Billionaires)

I can’t do this. I absolutely cannot do this. Preston’s Gram looks exactly like Betty White, and no one—and I mean absolutely no one—can lie to a woman who looks like the angel that is the Betty White.

“Hi,” I manage to get out, despite the feeling of my throat swelling up from nerves. “I’m Emma.”

Grammy’s cold hands wrap around mine. She seems so frail as her fingertips dig into mine. “It’s so nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Lois, but you can call me Gram.”

All I can do is nod. I think I want to kill Preston. I was having a great time with him—I even pondered if maybe I should allow myself just one night of fun with him because he seemed like he’d be absolutely mind-blowing in bed. Now, I’ve found myself sucked into some charade for his family as I pretend to be his girlfriend. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to role-play, but I envisioned it happening in the bedroom to spice things up, not at a family event where I’m getting the hopes up of a sweet old lady.

Was Preston’s sister’s friend really that bad? The moment I get him alone, I want to ask him what stage clinger we’re talking about for him to go to these great lengths to keep her away.

I realize that I’ve been internally panicking for too long as his grandma watches me closely, waiting for me to answer. “Oh, Gram seems special. I’m good with Lois.”

She scrunches her nose as if I just said the most ridiculous thing ever. “If you call me Lois, I’ll be upset. I know it must be serious for Preston to bring you to Peyton’s wedding. You’re family now.”

Family?

I can’t be part of his family. Fuck, I barely had my own family growing up. It was just me and my aunt, nobody else. I don’t know how to be a part of a family, and I don’t particularly want to learn by pretending either.

I should run. I wore the worst heels possible to ever run in, but I should make it work and run for the damn hills.

“Mind if I have a moment with Emma alone?” Preston asks, cutting in. His large, warm hand moves to the small of my back. It almost feels possessive, and I try not to focus on the fact that I don’t hate it. I would’ve loved the feeling of the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of my dress if I didn’t have to lie to his family about being his girlfriend.

Gram smiles wide. She winks before giving a nod of approval. “I remember those days. Your grandfather used to be very eager to get me alone as well.”

I blush, and I’m fairly confident Preston blushes, too. Peyton is the only one seemingly unbothered by Gram’s crude words.

Preston clears his throat, his fingers twitching against my back uncomfortably. “Oh, it’s just to talk, Gram. Promise.”

“You don’t have to lie to me about funny business. I get it,” she quips. I’d find her absolutely hilarious if I wasn’t being roped into lying to her.

Before I can say anything, Preston is leading me out of the large room. His fingers are strong around my wrist as he tries to find us somewhere private to talk. Eventually, he leads us into what seems to be a coat closet, but one that isn’t in use due to the warm weather outside.

As soon as the door shuts, my hands find my hips. “Preston, I want out of this lie. Now.”

He nods, threading his fingers together and placing them behind his neck. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

“Then let me out. I’ll just sneak out the back door—you can tell everyone we got in a fight, and I won’t have to look your grandmother in the eye again and pretend to be in love with you.”

He narrows his eyes on me, his biceps tightening. Is that a tattoo on his wrist? I want to take a step closer to see if I’m imagining it because I’ve always been a sucker for a man with tattoos. He didn’t strike me as someone who’d have them, but I swear there’s something peeking out from underneath his fancy watch.

“No,” he states calmly, breaking me from my concentration on trying to figure out if he’s got tattoos or not.

“Yes,” I counter. He can’t force me to stay. He’s lucky that I even went along with his silly plan to begin with.

“My family would never believe me if I told them we got in a fight and you left.”

“Why? They don’t even know me.”

“What plans do you have this week?” he asks, completely ignoring my question.

I take a step back, wanting as much space between us as possible because the tension in the air is thick, and right now, I’m really annoyed with him. “Plans that do not involve other people. I want to be alone.”

He frowns. “Who comes to the Hamptons to be alone?”

I huff, folding my arms across my chest. “If you must know, people who have no idea what they’re doing with their life and are in the midst of a quarter-life crisis.”

This makes him smile. He tries to hide it by turning his head, but he fails miserably. “So, it sounds like you don’t have any plans at all, then. Perfect. You now have plans with me.”

My jaw flies open. The audacity of this man. I’m not sure if his arrogance is extremely attractive or a blaring red flag. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“I do not have plans with you. I have plans with myself.”

“How long are you here for?” he prods.

I purse my lips, annoyed he keeps asking me questions instead of letting me out of this whole charade. “It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t see me again.”

“Answer the question, Emma.”

I swallow, trying not to give him a reaction to the demanding tone of his voice. God, why is it so sexy?

“I’m here for the summer. No set timeline. Until I have to find a new job or figure out what I want to do with my life.”

“You have the rest of this summer to figure your life out. Spend this week pretending to be my girlfriend, and then we’ll go our separate ways. You can discover yourself, and I can tell my family my schedule got too busy and we didn’t work out.”

“Too busy to have a girlfriend?” I ask sarcastically.

He lifts a shoulder. “Something like that.”

I want to ask him what he could possibly do for his family to think he’s too busy for a relationship, but I bite my tongue. It doesn’t matter. As hot and charming as Preston is, I still don’t want to spend my week pretending to be his girlfriend.

“Is she an ex-girlfriend?” I ask, voicing the first question that pops into my mind.

A wrinkle appears on his forehead. “Marsha?” he asks incredulously. “Absolutely not.”

“You sure? Are you trying to make her jealous? Or did she get too clingy after the two of you had a fling?”

Preston takes a step closer to me, his jaw flexing in anger. “Try again.”

I take another step backward, not wanting to be too close to him. He’s frustrating to no end, but I can’t deny that there’s some attraction between us. I can fight it and still recognize it’s there.

“You broke her heart?” I offer, my shoulders hitting the wall.

He shakes his head, tucking his hands into his pockets. “She’s been interested for years. I’ve never given her the time of day—and I don’t intend to.”

I roll my eyes. Men. I’d bet money he’s given her mixed signals, giving her just enough attention for her to think he’s interested before he ghosted her. “Oh, so you’re just too cool to give any woman attention? Is that it?” I don’t know why I’m arguing with him. It doesn’t matter. Whatever reason he has for starting this whole debacle doesn’t matter in the slightest because I want out.

“That isn’t true.”

A sarcastic laugh bubbles from my throat. “Okay.”

“The moment your heel came flying at me, I knew I wanted to give you as much attention as you’d let me.”

My mouth snaps shut. Oh shit. He’s good. I should’ve known he’d know exactly what to say to make me pause. “Is that just a line you’re using so I won’t bail?”

“It’s a line I’m using because I must admit, all night, the only person capable of capturing my attention has been you.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out if he’s being sincere or not. We’ve been wrapped in our own little bubble since the moment we walked into the party. People tried to talk to him, but he brushed them off. We’d stood at the bar, lost in conversation and oblivious to everything else going on for a long time before Marsha came up and ripped us from it. He’d been nothing but attentive—which is impressive, considering I now know this is his sister’s wedding event, and I’m sure he knows almost every single person in attendance.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Talk to me,” Preston pushes. “I know you have something to say, so just say it.”

For a moment, I refuse to meet his eyes as I try to gather my thoughts. I was having a great time with him. I even remember thinking to myself I was so grateful for the driver who encouraged me to go out tonight because it’d led me to this charming, handsome man who I could flirt with for a night. But I wanted tonight to be just that—one night of fun. We’d share some laughs—probably a few too many drinks—and I’d go home alone and wonder for the rest of my life if I should’ve let the smooth-talking man in the Hamptons take me home for the night.

Never did I think I’d find him asking me to be his pretend girlfriend for a week to appease his family. Never did I think I might actually consider it.

“Tell me what this next week would involve,” I finally offer. My lip feels raw from chewing on it.

“To be honest, I don’t remember everything on the agenda. Basically, it’ll be one fancy party after another, some in the form of brunch, some as afternoon socials, and others at night. I promise, they will all be adventures.”

“You’re really trying to sell me on this being an adventure, aren’t you?” I fold my arms across my chest, trying to decide if this is what I want to do with my week.

He rubs his lips together, giving me a coy smile. “Is it working?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’m all for an adventure, but you’re basically a stranger to me. I’m not sure I want to spend a week pretending to be your girlfriend. My entire reason for coming here this summer was to be alone and find myself—not pretend to be someone else.”

Preston shakes his head. “I’m not asking you to be anyone but exactly who you are, Emma. All I’m asking is for you to pretend to like me enough to be my girlfriend.” His expression is so sincere, chipping away at my resolve to keep saying no to him. “Hopefully, that isn’t too hard.”

“It might be the hardest thing I’ll ever do,” I tease.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”

I shrug. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“And when will you have your answer?” His voice is rough, the sound of it sending shivers down my spine.

“I guess you’ll have to wait to find out. Let’s go back out to your sister’s party. I have to test-drive the situation a little longer before I make my decision.” I open the door, leaving him waiting behind me.

I don’t look back to see if he follows or not. I know he will. What I don’t know is if I’m going to agree to this crazy idea. One thing I know about myself is I love crazy ideas, and what I love even more is a wild story. What’s wilder than agreeing to pretend to be the fake girlfriend of this super hot guy who clearly is rich as fuck? Not much.

Preston doesn’t need to know this, but I think I already know my answer. I’ll tell him yes because I don’t want to live with the what-if of telling him no for the rest of my life.