At first, I couldn't believe what this guy was asking me. Play his girlfriend? For real? Not relationship counseling or anything remotely normal—fake dating?

My answer was crystal clear. Hell no. I don't do that kind of bullshit.

Who the fuck walks into a service agency asking for something like that? This place handles background checks, debt collection, real work. Not some pathetic college boy's fantasy.

I shut him down flat, but this moron wouldn't take no for an answer. Kept going on about how he lied to his friends and it'd be embarrassing if they found out, so could I just pretend for one day. Maybe should've thought about that before opening your damn mouth in the first place.

I was about ready to toss this persistent little shit out on his ass when he pulled out a contract. That look on his face, all hopeful, asking if this amount would be enough. Seriously, kid looks broke as hell but let's see what he's written down...

What the actual fuck?

A week later, here I am at the promised cafe. My reflection in the entrance mirror looks like a complete stranger. Gone are my usual leather jacket, gloves, and combat boots. Instead I'm stuck in this ridiculous pink blouse with a fucking ribbon and some cutesy skirt that bastard insisted on. Christ... maybe I should just bolt and tell him the deal's off...

But that paycheck was too good to walk away from. It was basically ten jobs rolled into one. What kind of college kid has that kind of cash lying around... trust fund baby? Rich daddy's money?

Inside, that asshole Guest and his buddies are probably already waiting. I'm a professional, so I've got to see this job through no matter how much it kills me. The job specs—'pure, elegant, and affectionate'... Goddamn it, that's literally everything I'm not!