The Act Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Stella Gray

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Paige Press

  Leander, TX 78641

  * * *

  Ebook:

  ISBN: 978-1-953520-40-1

  * * *

  Print:

  ISBN: 978-1-953520-41-8

  * * *

  Editing: Erica Russikoff at Erica Edits

  Proofing: Michele Ficht

  Contents

  Also by Stella Gray

  About This Book

  Prologue

  1. Emzee

  2. Emzee

  3. Ford

  4. Emzee

  5. Emzee

  6. Emzee

  7. Emzee

  8. Emzee

  9. Ford

  10. Emzee

  11. Emzee

  12. Emzee

  13. Emzee

  14. Ford

  15. Emzee

  16. Emzee

  17. Emzee

  18. Emzee

  19. Emzee

  20. Ford

  21. Emzee

  22. Ford

  23. Emzee

  24. Emzee

  25. Emzee

  26. Ford

  27. Emzee

  28. Emzee

  Also by Stella Gray

  About the Author

  Also by Stella Gray

  Arranged Series

  The Deal

  The Secret

  The Choice

  * * *

  Convenience Series

  The Sham

  The Contract

  The Ruin

  The Convenience Series: Books 1-3

  * * *

  Charade Series

  The Lie

  The Act

  The Truth

  * * *

  Bellanti Brothers: Dante

  Coming Soon

  About This Book

  It was always going to end in heartbreak.

  * * *

  You can't pretend-marry the man you secretly love and escape unscathed.

  * * *

  Ford has never hesitated to ask for my help before, but this is the farthest he's asked me to go. Not that I ever say no to him.

  * * *

  Even when I know I should.

  * * *

  Sleeping with my husband is the best worst idea possible.

  * * *

  It's everything I dreamed it would be.

  * * *

  But everything to me is nothing to him.

  * * *

  And he's not the only one I've made promises to.

  * * *

  Book Two in the Charade Series.

  Prologue

  Ford

  Cruising through the halls of Wayland-Blaine Academy, there’s not a doubt in my mind: I’m the king of the whole fucking school. It’s unquestionable, irrefutable. Whatever I say, goes.

  The guys respect me, offering head nods or salutes, and the girls want to fuck me, coyly lowering their lashes or flashing brazen, hungry grins. As a sophomore, it’s a heady high knowing I command so much power already; I won’t deny I take pleasure in wielding it. And at fifty grand a year in tuition, I’m ruling a lot more than just plebes in this place.

  My subjects are the cream of the crop, the elite, the future leaders of America—or at least the city of Chicago—which means my influence will last a lot longer than the few years I’ll spend in this place.

  That said, the majority of the school’s drama doesn’t interest me. I don’t care who’s fucking who (unless, of course, it’s one of the teachers) and I really don’t care who’s getting shit-talked or hang-wedgied in the bathroom. But a certain bullying incident has snowballed into an untenable situation, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

  The social destruction of Mara Zoric.

  I’m not saying I’d never joined in on the abuse—everyone had—but at this point, enough was enough. It had gone too far. And I had my own reasons for taking issue with the whole thing.

  If you were nice, you pitied the girl. If you weren’t—and let’s face it, most of my friends weren’t—you mocked her to her face. She was the laughingstock of the whole school. I’d been in the locker room just this morning and seen her name and phone number written across the wall in big, fat sharpie, with “text for nudes” and “for a good time, call!” underneath it. Again.

  Teenage boys had never much been known for their originality.

  Not that the girls at this school were any better. One of them had used lipstick to write WHORE on her locker this morning.

  Mara was taunted everywhere she went—the cafeteria, the gym, even the courtyard outside. It had started months ago, but things had been ramping up over the past few weeks for reasons unknown.

  On the surface, nothing about her screamed “loser.” She was on the short side, but she was pretty enough—big gray eyes, wide mouth, dark hair that was always hanging in her face—maybe a little mousy and awkward looking, sure, but nothing she wouldn’t grow into eventually.

  She also had these amazing tits, but she always wore a dark cardigan buttoned up over her uniform, as if that would help disguise them in any way. I could see why girls might be jealous. But I didn’t get why the guys felt the need to drag the torture on and on so enthusiastically. Hadn’t she been picked on enough?

  I guess it just goes to show the enduring power of the high school rumor mill.

  “Aww shit,” Blake said. “Here she comes.”

  I stood with Blake and the rest of my friends, confident in my position at the top of the high school social hierarchy, and watched as the person occupying the rock-bottom of that hierarchy walked by, arms wrapped tightly around her books, chin tucked to her chest.

  She looked pathetic, resigned to her sad fate. Truthfully, I felt sorry for her.

  “Ho ho ho!” someone shouted at her.

  I watched her flinch, but she just kept walking.

  “There go the one-dollar blowjobs!” someone else yelled. “Get ‘em while they’re hot, under the bleachers!”

  Mara tried to ignore them, but I could see her cheeks turning pink. It looked like she might cry. I hoped she wouldn’t—tears would only make the teasing more aggressive.

  A guy named Paul pushed off the wall as she came closer. I watched as he stepped right in her way.

  “Hey Mara,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the floor.

  “Got a question for you,” Paul went on.

  No response.

  “How much you charge for the Zoric special?” he asked. “I heard it’s a good, cheap time.”

  Everyone burst into laughter as Mara pushed past him. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes but she was gone before they had a chance to fall.

  I was a tiny bit impressed with that.

  “Come on,” I told Blake and the others as the bell rang. “We’re gonna be late.”

  I didn’t care much about being late, but I wasn’t really interested in watching whatever Paul and the other high school idiots were going to do to Mara next.

  She and I had study hall together. She walked into the library late that day.

  When she arrived, I looked up just in time to see her walk past my table. Our eyes caught. Hers were red-rimmed. She’d managed to keep from crying in front of her tormentors, but she clearly hadn’t managed to keep the tears completely at bay.

  She looked away, hurrying to the study table she preferred in the back corner.

  “There she goes,” Blake said to me
. “Pathetic.”

  He was drawing boobs in his notebook.

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “You don’t think little Miss Russian Whore is pathetic?”

  I just shrugged, not bothering to correct him—I knew for a fact that Mara and her older brothers were of Serbian descent, thanks to the genealogy project she’d presented in our history class last year. God, I was so bored with high school kids. So bored with all of this shit. I couldn’t wait to graduate. To get out of this place. Out of my own house.

  “I’m going to ask if she’ll tutor me,” Blake said, waggling his eyebrows. “Privately.”

  I rolled my eyes, hoping he was joking, but when he stood it was clear he intended to continue the teasing that Paul and the others had started in the hallway.

  He strode to the back of the room. I watched.

  “Hey Mara,” he said.

  She ignored him. Good girl.

  “Mara Zoric. MZ. Em Zeeeee,” he tried again, drawing out the last part of her name like a whine, drumming his hands on the stack of books beside her.

  It was so annoying I wanted to punch him.

  “What do you want?” she finally asked.

  Blake put a hand to his chest, wearing an expression of comical hurt.

  “Why the aggression? I was just trying to talk to you,” he said.

  Mara stared up at him. She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what he was doing. We all did.

  I glanced around and noticed that pretty much the whole room was watching the interaction from the corners of their eyes. The only person blatantly ignoring the harassment was the teacher in charge of study hall, a younger guy who spent the class period messing around on his smartphone, as if we couldn’t see it under the table. It was obvious he didn’t give a shit.

  “I was just wondering…” Blake said, a shit-eating grin on his face. “If you offer discounts? You know, like two for one.”

  Mara’s face went red and her eyes dropped back to the open textbook on the table.

  It was almost adorable how innocent she was. At least, it might be adorable—if it wasn’t for the fact that innocence got you absolutely nothing but abuse in this world.

  “Come on,” Blake coaxed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you want it. And I know I can get it for free anytime I want.”

  “Go away,” she whispered, glancing over at the teacher who couldn’t care less. Clearly, he wasn’t going to save her.

  “Don’t be such a fucking tease,” he said. “I’ll even throw in a ride from my good pal Ford over there. Come on, M, don’t you want to see how the other half lives?”

  As far as goading went, it was kind of weak. Especially because while Mara’s family wasn’t wealthy like mine was, they weren’t close to poor either. No one at this school was.

  “I’d give it to you so good,” he went on. “Maybe you’d even pay me, you little slut.”

  “Please,” Mara said, her voice grating a little. “Just stop.”

  It was the catch in her voice that got to me. How broken and desperate it was. He’d gone too far. Everyone had. That little mouse of a girl didn’t deserve the kind of treatment she’d been getting, and I was sick of watching it play out like a TV rerun every fucking day.

  As I stood, all eyes turned to me—including Mara’s. There was apprehension in her gaze, and why wouldn’t there be? I was the de facto king of the school. Whatever I said was law.

  I walked over to her table.

  “Right on, Malone,” Blake said. “You ready to double team this bitch under the bleachers later?”

  “I’m ready for you to leave her alone,” I said coldly.

  A murmur went through the room. Ford Malone standing up for Mara Zoric? It would be the gossip of the week.

  “You serious?” Blake challenged, his grin starting to falter.

  “Let it be,” I told him, folding my arms over my broad chest. “I’m over this shit.”

  For a second, I thought he’d argue, but then he looked around. Everyone was watching.

  “Whatever,” he said, and walked back to our table. It was possible he’d be pissed and we’d fight about it later, but I was half a foot taller and on the rowing team. I could handle him.

  “You okay?” I asked Mara, even though I knew she wasn’t. Not that I really cared.

  But then she looked up at me, her eyes full of absolute adoration—and whatever guff I might take from my friends suddenly seemed totally worth it. Because as far as Mara Zoric was concerned, I had just become her hero.

  Emzee

  Chapter 1

  My wedding day had dawned like a dream, the New England skies a gorgeous blue and crystal clear, save for a few picturesque clouds. The sun was shining and the temperature was going to be mild. I couldn’t have asked for better weather. Though I was pretty sure that if it hadn’t cooperated, my sisters-in-law, through some sort of wedding magic, would have figured out a way to literally control the elements.

  They had done absolutely everything in their power to make this the most perfect day a bride could hope for. Ford’s family property on Martha’s Vineyard was an exquisite venue for an outdoor ceremony. The rolling green lawn, impeccably manicured and shaded by mature trees, was the setting for almost six hundred cushioned chairs. They faced a dais that held a wedding arch draped in ivory chiffon, eucalyptus branches, and an actual crystal chandelier. Behind that was the sound, where deep blue water rocked rhythmically as sunlight glittered across its surface.

  The end of each aisle was festooned with gigantic clusters of more eucalyptus branches, sprays of ferns, anemone blossoms in bright, bold shades, blue thistle, and classic ivory roses to match my luxurious bouquet. I’d asked for a mix of both rustic and traditional florals, and Brooklyn had knocked it out of the park. The red anemones matched her dress, and the blue ones matched Tori’s. I was sure the color coordination wasn’t an accident.

  My dress, of course, was as perfect as the day I’d tried it on. Every detail was perfect. My sisters-in-law had truly outdone themselves, from the custom hand-done calligraphy on the invitations to the gourmet catering menu that I’d been thrilled to approve. Brooklyn had even taken Munchkin to the groomer’s before bringing him on the flight out to the vineyard with her, so he’d be freshly spiffed up for the ceremony. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better wedding.

  But it was all pretend, and I was heartbroken.

  The worst part was that I’d started to believe that it might not have to be pretend, and the way Ford had snuck into my dressing room to ask about my feelings had me wondering all over again if this sham could have been real after all.

  What would have happened if I had just told him the truth? That I did love him?

  No. It wasn’t even worth considering. The wedding—the marriage—had to be a lie. All of it. Ford could never know how I really felt.

  If I told him the truth, there would be no rescue for my family, nor for our business. The Malones had only promised to bail out Danica Rose Management from its entanglement with the Russian mob as long as I agreed to walk out on this marriage in a year’s time. I couldn’t sacrifice the entire Zoric family—my brothers, their wives, their children, their livelihoods and legacies—for my own selfish ends. My own feelings.

  After the agency’s debt was paid off and my divorce was finalized, I had no idea what would happen between me and Ford. Maybe our friendship of seven-plus years could be salvaged. Maybe not. But right now, I couldn’t let myself think about that. I needed all my focus, all my strength, to get me through this farce of a wedding. The worst best day of my life.

  “Are you ready?” Stefan asked me.

  Startled out of my thoughts, I forced a smile as I heard the bridal waltz begin. I was waiting in a tent that had been set up specifically for the purpose of hiding me from the guests—and the groom—but once I walked out onto the grass, there would be no turning back.

  “I am,” I said, lifting my chin resolutely. “Th
ank you for doing this.”

  Since my father was a monster and very much behind bars, I had asked my oldest brother to give me away. Stefan stood there in his suit, elbow crooked for me to take, smiling down at me with a softness in his eyes that I rarely ever saw.

  “Hey,” I said. “Remember when you took me to your senior prom because I was a total loser freshman with no friends, and after that, the entire school knew my name?”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  “This kind of feels like that. Like you’re presenting me to the world or something.”

  Cocking a brow, he said, “Meaning you’re nervous as hell and you want me to be your first dance?”

  “Totally.”

  Stefan nodded. “Done. And seriously, don’t be nervous. The only thing that matters today is that you’re here with Ford, starting your new life together. Just focus on that.”

  Except focusing on that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Because the only thing Ford and I were starting together was a twelve-month lie.

 
-->