Landon Trask is the biggest movie star in the world. Everyone knows who he is. Everyone wants a piece of him. Everyone wants to either be him or be with him. Any detail or aspect of his private life is voraciously gobbled up by the masses. Just standing next to him at a red-carpet event is Hollywood Goals. He’s that kind of famous. It doesn’t hurt that he’s drop-dead gorgeous, ridiculously talented or that since the death of his wife six years ago, he’s all but turned his back on the very entity that made him famous in the first place. So when Landon Trask finds you half-naked in his bedroom, he has every right in the world to assume you’re a stalker and when he shows up on your doorstep the very next day and asks you to dinner, you say, just let me grab my purse. Imagine my surprise, and monumental disappointment, when Hollywood’s favorite leading man turns out to be a cold, ruthless bastard who all but blackmails me into accepting the indecent proposal of the century—play the role of his girlfriend and shoot to the top of A-lister royalty. If I accept, he’ll see to it that I’m given the lead role in his latest blockbuster. And if I refuse, he’s made it clear he’ll use his considerable amount of Hollywood influence to see that I never land so much as a laxative commercial again. When I accept his proposal and agree to his terms, he seems angry. When he kisses me in public it seems like a fairy tale. When he touches me in private it feels like something else altogether. It feels dangerous. Because this business arrangement isn’t just business anymore. It’s something else. Something real. Something right. Something that could destroy me if I forget that this is all pretend and let myself fall.