Married for the Cameras

SELENA VALE – POV “If you breathe anywhere near my espresso, I will call security.” That’s the first thing I ever said to Jaxon Thorne. We were both scheduled for an early morning PR panel at the Hilton Rooftop. I had just taken a sip of my double shot caramel oat milk latte when he showed up—six foot four of smug attitude and tailored Armani, casually stealing my chair like it had his name on it. (Spoiler: it didn’t.) “I like my coffee with attitude,” he smirked, sliding into the seat beside me. “And I like my mornings without narcissists,” I replied. The room laughed. Phones came out. And boom—Selena Vale vs. Jaxon Thorne became internet gold. The next morning, my inbox was a mess. My father was fuming. “Fix it,” he’d barked. “You’re in PR, aren’t you? Use it.” I tried to ignore his message when his call came in. With a grunt and an eye roll, I picked it up. “Dad… I can explain…” I started as he scoffed. “I sent you to my company to help stars fix their scandals and not create more. What the hell is wrong with you?” “Dad…” “I’ve called him and told him to come back to the company and fix whatever issues he has. I’ve also told him you will answer him nicely this time.” “What does that mean?” “It means I gave him your number.” “What?!” Now I was fuming. “He will call, and you will answer. I hope I have that right.” “Dad…” “No excuses.” With that, he cut the call and I sighed while leaning back in my bed. How did it get to this? Can’t a girl give off her own piece of mind? I should’ve ignored him. I should’ve blocked Jaxon. Instead, when Jaxon called, I answered his call. And the devil had a deal for me. *** In my world, image is everything. Daughter of Adrian Vale—media mogul, king of cable news, and my personal emotional black hole—I grew up watching my parents destroy each other on the covers of tabloids. Scandals, affairs, public meltdowns… They made headlines. I made walls. I learned early that love was just another PR stunt. Temporary. Performative. Weaponized. That’s why I built Vale Strategies, a boutique crisis management firm separate from my father’s empire even though my father would have his hand dipping into my instigators to save the day from time to time if I entered trouble. I handled scandals for celebrities, politicians, CEOs—polished their messes until the public forgot they ever existed. I never asked for fame. I never courted attention. But I got it the second I told Jaxon Thorne to keep his breath off my espresso. Before that viral moment, we’d met once. A corporate gala two years ago. He was still shiny then—Forbes’ golden boy, a self-made billionaire from nothing. Genius coder. Tech savior. And impossibly smug. We locked eyes. He offered me a drink. I said no. He laughed like I amused him. It wasn’t exactly a romance novel beginning. But now, things were different. He was knee-deep in lawsuits, accused of letting his AI software leak sensitive client data. Investors were pulling out. The media smelled blood. And my father? He saw opportunity. “Help Jaxon clean this up,” he told me. “If he bounces back, I’ll sell you full rights to your company. No more Vale oversight. I will show you the ropes to save yourself without me even jumping in to save you. You will have full control over your company.” That’s what I wanted. Freedom. No more strings. Just having my company to myself with no one coming in to save me. So when Jaxon’s name flashed on my phone that night, I answered. “You sure have a lot of nerves calling me this late,” I fumed. I had already dealt with my fathers anger, I could deal with whatever was going on with this i***t. “What do you want? I need you to speak fast. I’ve got things to do.” “I need a girlfriend,” he said. No small talk, just straight to the point. “Okay? Why are you telling me?” “Because I want you to be my girlfriend.” I almost choked on my spittle. “This… this is a joke right?” “If it was, I’d laugh.” “I’m not for sale,” I replied, even though technically… I kind of was. The price had to be right. “This isn’t for love,” he said. “It’s for survival. I need to restore trust before the board vote. A steady relationship, a clean narrative, and someone who can spar with the press without blinking.” “And you chose me? Out of everyone?” “Because you’re terrifying,” he said. “And because they already think we hate each other. It’s the perfect arc—rivals turned lovers. The public eats it up.” I should have hung up. I really should have. But then he added, “Twelve months. A contract marriage. We get engaged publicly, then ‘married’ in front of the press. After that, you get everything your father promised. I get my company back.” “How do you know about my fathers promise?” I asked before I sighed. My father must have told him. “Fuck.” “Yeah, your dad wasn’t so subtle about that.” He made it sound so easy. “What happens if people find out it’s fake?” I asked. “Then we lie better,” he said. I stood there in my apartment, staring at the city skyline. Somewhere beneath me, headlines were already being written. The Ice Queen and the Silicon Devil. It was career suicide. Emotional madness. But it was also my chance to finally get free. “Fine,” I said, grabbing a pen. “But I’m drawing up the contract. My rules. No surprises. No real touching. And absolutely no falling in love.” He chuckled. “Agreed. But just so we’re clear…” “What?” “If anyone’s going to break that last rule, it won’t be me.” “Don’t flatter yourself, lover boy.” “You can’t draw up the contract on your own. I have rules to put out there too.” “Set a time and date for us to meet and we’ll meet up. But it needs to be in a secluded area.” “You got it,” he laughed manically as I rolled my eyes and cut the call.