“Serena? Serena, wake up.” Someone was shaking her shoulders as she opened her eyes hesitantly, not wanting to let go of the dream she'd been having before this rude interruption.

Her eyes snapped open when she realized the subject matter of the dream she didn't want to let go of was now sitting on her bed, gorgeous green eyes irritated but imploring her to wake up.

Dream Rhys had been a sweetheart and a gentle lover. Real life Rhys, on the other hand, she wanted to punch.

“What the fuck, Rhys? You disappear for two days and now you can't let me sleep one more minute?” she fumed, morning breath be damned.

“Yeah, look, Serena. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, let you know I was going to be gone for a few days.”

“So where were you, Rhys?”

The party had been two days ago. Two days ago she had fallen asleep waiting for him after he had sent her upstairs. Two days ago she had been drifting through his ginormous house by herself, with not a single word from him. She may not have been his real girlfriend, but she was a real person. A real person stuck in his house. Alone. For two days. Okay, maybe not stuck. She could have left if she'd wanted to, but a small part of her was afraid if she left, she'd never get back in.

So instead she'd spent a ton of time on her laptop, read more books on her Kindle than she'd ever admit to, fixed her meals in the splendor of his kitchen and generally lounged around pathetically waiting for him to return.

“Look, Serena. I’m sorry. Okay? Really. Won’t happen again. I was preoccupied, but I should’ve let you know when I’d be back at least.” He seemed sincere, but still on edge and mildly irritated with her for some reason.

“Yeah! Yeah, Rhys. You should have!” She couldn't stop the hurt from sneaking into her voice.

“I said I’m sorry, Serena. Okay? I’m really fucking sorry, but it’s not like I can change it now!”

He was quiet for a moment before he continued, softer this time. “I'm sorry for the other night, too. I spoke to Luc. He told her it wasn't your fault. You didn't come on to him or anything.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Rhys. Girlfriend or not, I wouldn’t hit on your fucking brother in your house. Ever!”

“I get that, now. It’s just…” he trailed off. “Never mind. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain. But we need to get moving, yeah?” He ran his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. Like he was trying to push away a bad memory. Oh how she wanted to run her hands through his hair, take away all his bad memories…

Instead, she sat up. “Moving? Where? Why?”

“We had to check Luc into rehab. That’s where I’ve been. He’s completely out of control, was going to kill himself if we didn’t get him help.”

Well, that explained the worried look glued to his face.

“The paparazzi are going to have a fucking field day with this little cliché. ‘Rock star in rehab hot off the heels of a world tour.’ That’s why we need to get moving. Distract them.”

“You mean you need me to be a good little distraction today?”

“Yeah. We’ll head out, go to all the fucking places to get noticed that I usually avoid like the fucking plague, hold hands, make out a bit. Whatever it takes to keep the heat off Luc. He needs to focus on getting better.”

She reached for his hand. “I'm sorry about Luc,” she began, but he was already moving for the door. “Get ready, will you? We leave in forty,” he said.

Okay, so it was time to pay the piper. This was why she was here. “Create the narrative” for the paparazzi, just like he'd said.

She took a quick shower and then got ready as best she could for her introduction to the world. God, she was nervous. In a couple of hours, if she did her job right, there would be pictures of her everywhere. Holy hell. Why had he chosen her for this?

His stylist had come over yesterday, an elegant older woman who had assured her that she was the best in the business. She had taken a look at Serena's wardrobe and seemed adequately impressed, but had left her with a ton of clothes, shoes and accessories anyway.

“I like your style, dear. But this isn't just about you now. How you look impacts them all. I can see that you dress yourself,” she had said, and Serena had reeled at the insinuation that at twenty-two-years-old she wouldn't be capable of that, especially since that had been the one thing she'd ever had any measure of control over. “But you call me if you need anything, okay? Or snap a picture of yourself before you go out if you're unsure.” Serena had seethed, quite sure she would never call her, but had bitten her tongue and smiled politely.

There was no time to wallow in self-doubt though, about his stylist or why he had chosen her. He would be waiting, and her time was up. She slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed a pair of designer sunglasses she'd had delivered yesterday for an occasion such as this and headed downstairs.

He waited in the large modern kitchen, looking as delectable as ever. Her heart skipped a beat, a now familiar heat spreading through her body. Sure, she was still pissed at him, but she couldn't help being human. No way seeing him wouldn't evoke some sort of reaction... Jackass or not.

He was wearing what she had began to think of as his uniform in her mind. Skinny jeans that looked like they were made just for him, although come to think of it, they probably had been. He wore a dark t-shirt that hugged his body close and allowed a look at the sexy tattoos her fingers still itched to trace. A pair of sunglasses rested in his hair as he leaned on the kitchen island, checking his Tag Heuer for the time.

He looked up as she entered, openly checking her out and nodding his approval.

“You look sexy as all hell. I love it. You're perfect.” He shot her a smile as he jingled his keys and headed for the garage. She followed him into the cavernous space that held four cars.

To her surprise, not all of them were flashy. There was an old beat-up truck that might have been red at one point before the paint had flaked off and the metal had rusted. A silver sedan with black windows. A black Range Rover as well, and he was headed toward a black Aston Martin. Idly she wondered whether someone just gave famous people the obligatory black Range Rover as soon as they made it big.

She didn't know much about cars, but even she knew the Aston Martin she was sliding into as he held the door open for her was crazy expensive and super luxurious.

“I hardly ever get to drive this thing, but we're out to get noticed today, right?” He seemed delighted and almost giddy with excitement as the engine purred to life and the garage door opened.

The ever-present throng of paparazzi that seemingly lived outside his gates fell over themselves trying to get the money shot as soon as they drove out. Several of them were already on motorcycles to follow them wherever they were going.

“How do you feel about brunch? Couples do brunch, yeah?”

“I think so. Besides, I’m starving. My boyfriend didn’t give me time for breakfast this morning.” She wasn't so sure she'd be able to keep anything down, since her stomach was filled with knots, but she knew she had to try to eat for the sake of the photos.

“He sounds like a jerk. You deserve better” he said, sounding like he was only half joking.

“Nah, he’ll make it up to me with ice cream later,” she replied, trying to lighten the mood again.

She was here to create a distraction, a good one. And the better she was at it, the longer she would hopefully get to spend time with him, so it wouldn't do to have him look unhappy on their first day out as a “couple.”

“He will, huh? Ice cream? That’s really all it takes?” he threw back at her, relaxed half smile back in place.

Good. That’s what she needed him looking like.

“So, what’d you get up to by yourself these last few days?”

“Not much, I read, played around online, explored the house… rummaged through your underwear drawer and put them in the freezer as revenge.” She was only joking about the last part, of course, but his face blanched for just a second.

“I like the thought of you in my underwear,” he joked, or at least she thought he was joking. Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, his mouth had turned up into a naughty smile.

“I’m kidding! I didn’t do that! I explored every part of the house, except your room. I wouldn’t invade your privacy like that!”

“I’m glad. This way, I can be the one who shows it to you.” Her heart began to race. He wanted to show her his bedroom? Wow, this man was way too confusing... He may have been the crowned prince of guitar to the world, but to her, he was the king of mixed messages and double entendre.

He pulled the luxury vehicle into a spot reserved for VIPs at a restaurant frequented by those celebrities wanting to be seen.

Yes, she knew this now. He may have been gone for two days, but she'd done a bit of homework on celebrity culture while licking her wounds. Her time on her laptop was definitely going to come in handy...

Her stomach was still in knots as he got out of the car to flashing cameras all around, and walked around to her side to open the door for her. This was it. The moment of truth. She felt like she may vomit.

He offered her his hand as he opened the door and helped her out of the car, pulling her firmly to his side and keeping his arm almost protectively around her shoulders. The flashing was insane. Even though it was daytime, she was blinded by the cameras.

“Rhys, who is this?” “Rhys, is it true the band has broken up?” “Rhys, Rhys, Rhys...” was all she could hear. These people were crazy for him. He didn't say anything though, keeping her safely tucked under his arm and simply smiling as they finally made it through the doors to the restaurant.

“You okay?” he asked as he pulled out a chair for her at a table clearly visible through the windows where the paparazzi were clamoring for their picture. He bent down to kiss the top of her head before taking his seat across from her.

He reached for her hand across the table as soon as he sat down, and she didn't hesitate before placing it in his. Cue those invisible sparks she'd really hoped would've gone away by now. This man didn't want sparks, just pictures. And yet, the sparks were definitely there. For her, anyway.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for keeping me close. Not sure I would’ve made it inside if you hadn’t, those flashes are intense!”

He gave her hand a squeeze. Wait, that couldn't be for the benefit of the paparazzi, could it? Yep, king of mixed messages.

“Wish I could tell you it’ll get better. But it doesn’t, you just sort of get used to not being able to see properly.”

A waitress came over to them, carrying a bottle of ice cold sparkling water. She went to set it on the table but nearly missed due to the way she was staring at Rhys.

She had to be used to serving famous people working in a place like this, but you couldn't tell from the way her wide eyes were popping out of her skull. She was pretty, but to his credit, he barely glanced at her as she set the bottle down. His focus was entirely on Serena.

She almost felt bad for the waitress. Almost, but not quite. Rhys was her man, after all. Her fake man, sure, but it's not like the waitress knew that. Plus it wasn't polite to stare at someone else's man, however impossible it might be not to stare at this particular one.

She followed his example though, and kept her focus on him.

“Thanks,” he said as she poured them each a glass.

“No problem. I'm not supposed to do this Mr. Grant, but I'm such a huge fan of Misery! I...” she didn't finish her thought, however, as the manager seemed to be approaching.

Instead, she assumed some semblance of professionalism. “Can I get you anything else to drink, Mr. Grant?”

“I'd like a coffee, please. Princess, what would you like?” Princess. Again. Really? He was selling this hard. Still, her heart skipped a beat at hearing him say it. Someone really should tell her heart he didn't mean it.

“Coffee for me too, please.”

“Sure. I’ll have that right over. Will you be dining with us this morning?”

“Yes. We’re brunching,” he answered, seeming quite proud of himself for some unknown reason. Menus appeared like magic, and the waitress left to get their coffee.

Rhys was still holding her hand, but was now studying the menu instead of her.

“Want to share a platter of sushi?”

“For brunch? Pizza for breakfast, and sushi for brunch. Did nobody ever tell you what appropriate morning foods are?”

His eyes darkened, so fleetingly that she thought she must have imagined it, before he was all meaningful smiles again.

“It was a breakfast pizza. It’s right there in the name. And there are more letters that represent lunch in the word ‘brunch’ than breakfast, so it’s anybody’s choice. So, sushi?”

“Can’t argue with that logic, so yeah. Sushi it is.”

The waitress brought over their coffees and took their order from Rhys. She still looked like she wanted to ask him something, but she kept her mouth shut.

The sushi was delicious, although she thought it had better be, considering what a place like this must cost. She was actually having fun talking to Rhys again.

He was still just as easy to talk to – much to her chagrin, given that a part of her was still pissed – and their little charade meant that he was paying rapt attention to her. She almost forgot about the cameras. Almost. But not quite.

How many pictures could they possibly snap of two people sitting still?

She managed to eat without making a complete idiot of herself. She didn't drop anything or get soy sauce on her dress, so she chalked it up as a win.

There was only one piece of salmon left, and Rhys deftly picked it up with his chopsticks. He'd had most of the sushi, but Serena hadn't minded one bit. Years of conditioning under her mother meant that she never ate a lot in a single sitting. To her surprise, though, he guided his chopsticks to her lips instead of his and said softly, “You get the last piece, for luck.”

She acted almost mechanically, opening her mouth and delicately accepting the salmon. She briefly considered that she probably could have tried to be more seductive about it, but she most likely would have poked an eye out on a chopstick.

“Luck?” she asked when she finished chewing. “What do I need luck for?”

“The rest of the day. Now that we’re fortified, we’re going shopping. I’m taking my girlfriend shopping just like the meek, in love lapdog boyfriend that I am.”

Her heart skipped another beat. Maybe she was developing a heart condition. She made a mental note to find out if there were any hereditary heart conditions in her family if and when she started speaking to her mom again.

“Trust me, there is not ever going to be anything meek about you, nor do you even slightly resemble a lapdog,” she said as he signed the check. True to his habit of constantly surprising her, he signed the napkin as well and handed it to their waitress, who was waiting nearby.

“Thanks for taking such good care of us,” he said, giving her a small smile that clearly had her swooning. He slid his sunglasses over his eyes and pulled Serena into his side once more. Back into the lion's den we go, she thought.

“Ready for some shopping, princess?” he breathed into her ear. He had called her princess again, and this time there had been no one else around to hear it.

Her heart skipped a beat yet again. She really needed to phone her mother and find out about heart conditions in the family.

“Are you kidding, I was born ready for shopping!”

She gave him a huge smile that he returned before pressing a kiss unexpectedly to her lips just as they exited the restaurant. She thought a few cameras might have actually exploded at that. She couldn't say for sure, though, as all rational thought had fled from her body at the moment his lips found hers and reduced her to a needy, shivering mess. He broke off the kiss, lingering for just a second before pulling her toward the car.

Everywhere they went, the paparazzi followed, the size of the crowd following them constantly growing larger.

Rhys kept her close, touching her body at all times. Whether it was his arm around her shoulders, simply holding her hand, keeping his hand protectively splayed on her lower back or the occasional well-timed kiss, they were always touching, and the cameras didn't stop capturing it for one single second.

As long as she kept her focus on Rhys, she was fine. She couldn't let herself even start thinking of the fact that very soon, these pictures were going to be broadcast around the world, if the first ones weren't already doing just that. She definitely didn't want to think of her mom's reaction, or Katie's or Mary's... and definitely not Josh's. Crap, she should have told them.

She still hadn't told Katie and Mary who the “someone” she had met at the party had been. She hadn't been sure what was permissible given the terms of the non-disclosure agreement she had signed.

Well, the cat was well and properly out of the bag now. She'd have to call them as soon as she got back to the house.

They spent a few hours shopping. If it were possible to have a fashiongasm, she would have. He made all kinds of her impossible dreams come true by the clothes he insisted on buying for her. If she were being honest, she was unable to resist the clothes any more than she could resist him.

True to his earlier promise they stopped for ice cream, holding hands as they waited for their orders and all the way to their table at the cute, but small ice cream parlor. They were still visible to the paparazzi through the windows, but Rhys chose a table with slightly more privacy this time, located near the back of the shop. He licked at his pistachio ice cream and she nearly melted along with her mint chocolate chip while she stared at his ministrations. He caught her watching him and gave his cone a deliberately long lick, a self-satisfied smirk in place.

“You were great today, Serena,” he said once they were back in the Aston Martin and headed to his house.

“So were you. Do you think they bought it?”

“The way my phone has been buzzing in my pocket for the last few hours, yeah, I think they bought it all the way to fucking Timbuktu.” He smiled triumphantly.

She realized then that she hadn't seen him look at his phone once today. All of his attention had been completely on her at all times. He really was too good at this.

“Feels like I have a vibrator in my pants,” he said nonchalantly.

Must. Not. Think. Of. A. Vibrator. In. His. Pants. Too late, again, she was only human after all and he was just too damn sexy. The spot between her legs ached at the thought of ”in his pants,” an ache that had gone unsatisfied for far too long.

She must have flushed a little, because he asked, “Hey, you okay?” as they edged through the crowd of paparazzi camped outside of his gate.

“Fine, yeah. I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second. It’s been a long day.”

Once they were inside, he hung his keys up in their rightful place and headed to the kitchen. He returned shortly, chugging a glass of water.

“You got any plans for tonight?”

“Uh, no? I just have to call my sister and my best friend before their heads explode at finding out I’ve been keeping their favorite rock star being my boyfriend from them.” She may have had some other plans for satisfying the dull ache that was still present between her legs, but she definitely wasn't letting him on that.

He laughed a little. God, that laugh. “No, we wouldn't want any heads exploding. Wanna watch a movie when you're done? I'll fix us something to eat.”

His house had a screening room, because that was something famous people apparently needed. Couldn't just watch movies on a normal television like mere mortals, of course.

“Sure, I’ll catch up with you when I’m done.”

She headed up to her room, resigned to the roasting she was about to receive from her sister and best friend for keeping this from them, while Rhys headed toward the bar and pulled out a bottle of bourbon.