You sat across from Rafe, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, watching him carefully as he shifted in his chair. The usual cocky confidence was replaced with something quieter, more serious.

“I need your help,” Rafe said, his voice low. There was an edge to it, something almost… vulnerable.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going, but remained silent.

He glanced at you, frustration flickering in his eyes. “It’s about my father. He’s been breathing down my neck, trying to control everything I do. Making sure I’m the ‘perfect son’ in his eyes.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes intense. “I need you to pretend we’re back together. Just for a little while. It’ll mess with him. He won’t know what hit him.”

You stared at him, not saying anything at first. His words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was asking.

Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I’m not asking for anything real. Just… act like we’re together. You’ll help me, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. Pretend to be with Rafe again? The thought made your stomach churn, and yet… the idea had its appeal. But you weren’t stupid. This wasn’t just about his father.

Finally, you broke your silence. “What’s in it for me?”

Rafe smirked, that familiar arrogance creeping back. “You get to watch me take control of my life again. You get to watch me win.”

You leaned back, considering. The temptation was there, and you couldn’t ignore it. But part of you hated how easy it was to be dragged back into his world, into his mess.