Whatever She Wants: A friends-to-lovers fake relationship romance, page 1
WHATEVER SHE WANTS
KC LUCK
Whatever She Wants by KC Luck
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons either living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 KC Luck Media
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
CONTENTS
Also By KC Luck
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
About the Author
Thank You
Also By KC Luck
ALSO BY KC LUCK
Rescue Her Heart
Save Her Heart
Welcome to Ruby’s
Back to Ruby’s
Together at Ruby’s
Darkness Falls
Darkness Remains
Darkness United
Wind Dancer
Darkness San Francisco
Darkness Unknown
The Lesbian Billionaires Club
The Lesbian Billionaires Seduction
The Lesbian Billionaires Last Hope
Venandi
What the Heart Sees
Everybody Needs a Hero
Can’t Fight Love
Where Love Leads
Always Another Sunset
Storm in Her Heart
Capture the Moment
1
The room held a mass of cast and crew. It was Kim Murphy’s first post-season wrap party, and everything was a little overwhelming. The sheer energy of the event made her feel a bit out of her depth. The bar was a sanctuary of sorts, a small island amid the chaos, where she stood beside her producer, who leaned in close to be heard over the noise. “You know,” he began, his voice rich with the tang of a dirty martini. “You could easily be nominated for an Emmy for this.” His tone dropped conspiratorially as if sharing a precious secret. “Even win.”
Murphy wasn’t entirely sure she bought into his optimism, but the idea wasn’t unpleasant either. She offered him a modest smile, one that hinted at both skepticism and possibility. “That’s a stretch,” she replied, her voice light but thoughtful. “But you never know what’s going to happen in life.”
It was a statement that carried the weight of her journey. A year ago, the idea of being the talk of Hollywood would have seemed ludicrous, a notion to laugh off without a second thought. Yet here she was, after auditioning on a whim for a role she thought she had no chance of landing—a gritty ex-con turned bounty hunter, a character far removed from who she thought she was. The producers had adored her. Later, she learned they’d been searching for a “tough, lesbian-looking actress,” a description that matched her to a T. She was, after all, a lesbian, and if her soft butch appearance fit their idea of “tough,” then so be it. Who am I to try and educate the narrowminded men who agreed to my contract? she thought. After all, they sign my paychecks.
As the producer continued to talk, Murphy’s attention drifted. Something—or rather, someone— caught her eye. A striking blonde woman just entered the room, stealing Murphy’s breath with her arrival. She was a vision in a form-fitting black cocktail dress, high heels that accentuated long, toned legs, and hair elegantly pinned up, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. The sight was so captivating that Murphy found herself involuntarily licking her lips, her thoughts slipping away from the producer’s words as she wondered what it might take to catch this woman’s eye. “...that twist in the middle of next season will...” The producer’s voice faded into the background.
Murphy set her gin and tonic on the bar with quiet resolve. “Excuse me,” she said, cutting off whatever the producer was saying. The irritation that flashed across his face barely registered with her. She had a new mission. With a determined stride, she navigated through the crowd, with her eyes locked on the blonde. On her way, she deftly swiped two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, leaving him blinking in surprise as she continued her approach. “Hi there,” she said, her voice low and inviting as she reached the woman.
The blonde turned, her eyes widening in recognition before a radiant smile spread across her face. “Murphy!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Murphy’s neck in a warm embrace that nearly sent the champagne spilling. “I made it. I’m sorry I’m so late. Typical New York traffic.”
Laughing softly, Murphy drew back to take in the face she knew so well. It was Olivia Reid, her best friend for nearly twenty years, ever since they had met in their junior high drama class. “You’re not late,” Murphy assured her. “Not really. I’m learning that these things just kind of start whenever and end whenever. I’m just glad you made it.”
Olivia untangled herself from Murphy, her blue eyes sparkling with a playful light that never failed to lift Murphy’s spirits. No one else could make her feel as Olivia did—like the world was just a bit brighter, the burdens a little lighter. Even though Murphy couldn’t help but think that Olivia was the most stunning woman in the room, it was her friend’s vibrant personality that Murphy cherished the most.
“Me too,” Olivia replied, her voice warm with sincerity. “How could I miss your first celebration party?” She reached to smooth the lapel of Murphy’s dark blue blazer, a gesture so casual yet so intimate that it sent a thrill racing through Murphy. “And don’t you look good.”
Murphy swallowed hard, trying to keep the heat rising in her chest from spilling over into her voice. “Thanks,” she managed to say, her tone light. “But you think anyone in a jacket and tie looks good.” Olivia’s laughter rang out, full and contagious, drawing a few smiles from those nearby. Murphy couldn’t help but chuckle along, feeling a warm flush of happiness.
After a moment, Olivia took one of the champagne flutes from Murphy’s hand. “That is true,” she said with a teasing smile. “But you are always my favorite.” Watching Olivia sip the champagne, Murphy found herself wishing more than anything that what she said was true.
Olivia couldn’t help but admit that she had a soft spot for the sight of a dress jacket and black tie on just about anyone. There was something about the crisp, tailored look that appealed to her, but tonight, her focus was solely on Murphy. This was Murphy’s moment to shine, and Olivia knew that no one deserved it more than her caring and generous best friend. Olivia had once dreamed of being an actress herself, but those ambitions had faded into the background years ago, and she held no resentment toward Murphy’s success. Some people might have said Kim Murphy’s fame happened overnight, but Olivia knew better. She remembered all too well the countless weekends they spent huddled together at the small table in Murphy’s tiny, worn apartment, running lines and practicing for auditions that seemed to never end. Murphy had never stopped trying, even while juggling a part-time job as a UPS driver, to find that one role that would finally launch her career. And then, she did. Olivia couldn’t be prouder.
“I’m so happy for you, Murphy,” Olivia said, raising her champagne glass with a genuine smile. “Cheers to you.”
Murphy returned the smile, a warmth in her eyes that spoke volumes. “I couldn’t have done it without your help,” she replied, their glasses clinking together in a soft, celebratory chime. “You never let me give up. I owe you.”
Olivia paused at those words, an idea taking root in her mind—an idea that at first seemed too far-fetched to even consider. But as she thought about it, the notion grew on her. Although she would never dream of claiming any part of Murphy’s success, the truth was, Olivia could really use a favor. She was in a bind, and Murphy was the one person who might be able to help her out. Tilting her head, she took a longer, more deliberate look at her best friend—light brown hair, blue eyes, and a smile that could light up a room. Sure, the camera loved her, but Olivia hadn’t really taken the time to notice just how good-looking Murphy had become since the television series started. The chubby babyface and thick glasses that Olivia remembered were gone, replaced by a confident, attractive woman who stood before her, exuding a quiet, effortless charm. As Olivia tried to pinpoint exactly when this transformation had occurred, Murphy caught her staring and raised an amused eyebrow. “What?” she asked playfully. “Do I have spinach in my teeth?”
“No,” Olivia replied, shaking her head, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. “It’s just that…” She trailed off, struggling to articulate what was going through her mind. There was no reason for her to feel flustered by the realization that her best friend was incredibly attractive, yet here she
Narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion, Murphy scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Why do I feel like I might regret admitting that I’m free?”
“Oh, it won’t be that bad,” Olivia said with a grin, trying to reassure her. “So, are you?”
“I could be,” Murphy replied, curiosity clearly piqued. “What’s up?”
Olivia hesitated, taking a moment to weigh her words carefully. She wanted to make sure she was making the right decision, but the truth was, she didn’t have a lot of other options. In fact, she had none. “I need you to go with me to Bermuda,” she finally said, her voice steady.
Murphy blinked, clearly taken aback. “Bermuda?”
“Yes,” Olivia confirmed, nodding. “That’s where we’re holding Dad’s birthday party. It’s his sixtieth, so Mom is making it a big deal.”
“Wow,” Murphy said, her expression brightening. “That sounds like a lot of fun. How is that a favor? I’d love to go.”
Biting her lip, Olivia steeled herself for what she had to say next. She decided to go with the direct approach—it felt right, especially with Murphy. “I need you to go as more than just my friend,” she said, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “I need you to go as my date.”
“As your date?” Murphy asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Like, romantically?”
Olivia shrugged, suddenly appearing to be fascinated by the tiny bubbles rising in her champagne glass as if they held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. “Yes,” she finally said, her tone casual but her words heavy with meaning. “Like romantically. You’d be my girlfriend.”
Murphy shook her head, trying to process what was happening. For a moment, she wondered if she had somehow stepped into a dream. So many times she wanted exactly what Olivia said—to be more than her best friend but to be her girlfriend. And now, here was Olivia, standing beside her at a Hollywood party, suggesting exactly that. It was almost too much to take in all at once.
“You’re shaking your head,” Olivia observed, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “Does that mean the answer is no?”
“No,” Murphy blurted, then quickly corrected herself. “Wait, I mean yes.” She frowned, flustered. “Actually, I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.” Taking a deep breath, she started over. “Yes, I will go to the party as your date. But I need to know why you need a date. I’m pretty sure it’s not because you’ve finally succumbed to my charms.”
Olivia laughed, the sound lightening the tension that had begun to build between them. She lifted her gaze from her champagne and met Murphy’s eyes, and for a brief moment, Murphy thought she saw a faint blush coloring Olivia’s cheeks, though it seemed almost impossible. “No, I’ve not succumbed yet,” Olivia replied with a playful smile, but then her expression turned more serious. “But I do need a cover. Do you remember Stephen Carson?”
Murphy’s stomach tightened at the mention of his name. She had met Stephen only once, when she had bumped into him leaving Olivia’s apartment. He was the kind of man who exuded a certain polished charm that some might find attractive, but to Murphy, he came off as arrogant and self-satisfied. The smirk he had worn as he left Olivia’s place instantly made Murphy dislike him. “I don’t know what you see in that guy,” she had muttered at the time, but Olivia had just waved her off.
“Yeah, Dad loves him,” Olivia had said, a touch of exasperation in her voice. “Apparently, Stephen’s some kind of superstar investor at the firm. Not really anyone I’d normally go out with, but it makes my parents happy.”
“I see,” was all Murphy had said back then, and the subject had quickly changed. But now, hearing Stephen’s name come up in connection with Olivia needing a fake girlfriend for a party set off alarm bells in Murphy’s mind. “Yeah, I remember him,” she answered, her tone cautious. “Is he a problem?” Olivia took a sip of her champagne, her eyes drifting away as she seemed to mull over how to respond. Murphy’s grip tightened around her own glass, her free hand slowly clenching into a fist. If Stephen was harassing Olivia, Murphy was more than ready to step in and set him straight. “Well, is he?”
Olivia shook her head, refocusing on Murphy. “No, he’s not anything to worry about as long as he gets the hint that I’m not available,” she said. “That I’m dating someone else, so he should move on.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Which is exactly what I told him a few weeks ago.”
“But there is no one else,” Murphy said, the pieces of the puzzle starting to click into place. “And that put you in a bind to find a date for your dad’s party. I’m guessing Stephen will be there?”
“Yes,” Olivia admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “And I’m sure Mom and Dad will try to steer me back toward him.”
Murphy nodded, finally understanding the full scope of the situation. “I see the problem,” she said, her tone resolute. “And I’m happy to help.”
Before Murphy could fully process what was happening, Olivia leaned in and pressed a quick, grateful kiss to her cheek. “Thank you so much,” Olivia said, her voice full of relief. “I’m sorry to make you do it, but I can’t think of a better solution. I just hope everyone buys that we’re crazy about each other.”
A small smile played on Murphy’s lips as she gazed into Olivia’s eyes, her heart swelling with a mixture of emotions she barely knew how to contain. “Don’t worry,” she said softly, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I’m an actor, remember? I’m sure I can convince them.” Especially since, in her heart, she wouldn’t be acting at all.
2
After gracefully maneuvering her way off the bustling subway, Olivia navigated through the throngs of people on the crowded sidewalk, her eyes scanning for the familiar sight of the quaint, ivy-covered eatery where she planned to meet her mother. The small restaurant, nestled between two brownstones, exuded an old-world charm, its dark wooden façade and cheery window boxes brimming with flowers starkly contrasting with the towering skyscrapers surrounding it. This cozy spot had been their go-to for Sunday brunches for as long as Olivia could remember, a cherished ritual. Today, however, Olivia ran a few minutes behind, a rare occurrence that made her quicken her pace. She already pictured her mother—elegant as ever, dressed in a vibrant yet tasteful dress that perfectly complemented her pearls—seated at their favorite table, likely enjoying her first mimosa with a contented smile.
The thought brought a smile to Olivia’s own lips. She knew how fortunate she was to have such a close and loving relationship with her mother, something not many of her friends could claim. Their bond was special, a blend of friendship and mutual respect that Olivia deeply cherished.
As Olivia stepped into the restaurant’s warm, inviting atmosphere, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and baked goods wafted over her, wrapping her in a sense of comfort. The maître d’, a middle-aged man with a welcoming smile, approached her almost immediately. “Good morning, miss. Are you here for brunch?” he inquired, his tone polite yet warm.
“Yes,” Olivia replied, her voice tinged with anticipation. “I’m meeting someone.”
The maître d’ smiled knowingly. “I think I can guess which party. Mrs. Reid, perhaps?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, and Olivia wasn’t surprised. Not only were she and her mother regulars, but the resemblance between her and her mother was often a topic of conversation. Their strikingly similar features had even led to a few lighthearted comments about them looking more like sisters than mother and daughter.
Olivia nodded. “That would be correct.”
“Right this way, then,” he said with a slight bow, gesturing for her to follow. “She’s on the patio. It’s such a lovely day.” Olivia followed him through the restaurant’s cozy interior and past tables filled with other brunch-goers engaged in animated conversations. The maître d’ was right—New York in April was truly a sight to behold. The city seemed to come alive again, shedding the cold, gray layers of winter to reveal blooming flowers and budding trees, a reminder that the long, harsh months had finally given way to spring.
