Just Pretend

Chapter Thirty

Jason

I'm fucking pushing my luck. And I fucking know it.

I want to – no, need to – figure out how far I can push Gwen on an outing like this; just the two of us.

We didn't go out during the time she was getting over Mark – the fucker. He abused the most precious thing to ever be put on this Earth, and I want to kill him for it.

Tonight is the first time she and I are going out alone, and I want to know what I can get away with. When she asks when the pretending ends, I'm tempted to say never, but I know it's too soon for that sort of suggestion, so I push it as far as I think I can get away with.

'Tomorrow morning.' She chuckles softly as I start reversing out of the garage and her eyes, those big, deep blue eyes, look at me calculatingly and I know that she's considering my question.

I turn onto the road and see Alyssa and Clarissa standing at their front window, watching us through a sliver of open window, in the rearview mirror.

When Gwen's hand lands on my thigh, I have my silent answer to whether or not we're going to "act" like we're dating. In reality, the outside world is pretty sure that the only bachelor son of Carl Harrington, is now seeing a girl that slightly resembles the daughter of international South African business mogul Harold Reddick.

In the last known public photo that I can find of Gwen on the internet, she's maybe thirteen-years-old and standing next to a large guy with a stern-looking face with his hand on her shoulder, staring onto the camera smugly. She's wearing a pink dress that would suit Barbie and an expression of utter unhappiness.

I keep one hand on the wheel as I put my other hand on hers resting on my thigh, and she twines our fingers together.

'Have you been watching the news?' I ask softly and she turns her head to look at me, before shaking it slowly.

'After months of you living here, the press has finally realised that Gwendolyn Reddick is no longer living in South Africa,' I say and she snorts, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

'And now they're gonna come looking for me. Dad won't tell anyone where I am though – keeping my life as private as possible and all that,' she says and I can hear both disdain and gratefulness in her voice as she speaks.

'Why are people so obsessed with the lives of billionaires?' I ask and she bursts out laughing.

'I wouldn't call myself that, but my dad certainly is. I can only speak for myself, though, but it's probably because my two brothers are in the spotlight, Indigo's an actor and Burton is one of the top surgeons in the southern half of the world, and I was kept out of it, and stayed out of it.'

I can't agree more with her, Gwen hasn't been in any newspapers or tabloids since no one saw her grow up; her parents keeping her sheltered from the spotlight.

'Wait, Indigo; as in Indigo Justice?' I ask and she cuts her eyes to me while she nods.

'He's not that bad,' I say and she laughs, shaking her head.

'He's a pompous asshole when he's in public,' she says and I can't help but laugh. Indigo Justice is one of the biggest movie stars in the world and the country's biggest playboy and party god.

'How much older are your brothers than you?' I have to ask, the math not quite making sense.

'Indigo started as a child actor, he's three years older than me, and Burton was a fucking protegee in the sciences and he's two years older.' When she explains it, it makes sense.