The world thinks I'm a call girl.

Now I have no choice but to be his fake fiancée.

I'm not going to law school to become some rich man's arm candy. Hell no. I intend to be a high-powered lawyer or nothing.

That all goes to hell when I'm photographed with the president's playboy brother.

How can I get a job at a respectable firm if everyone thinks he pays me for a good time?

Now that the president is involved, it's clear: I'm trapped being Graham Blackpool's fake fiancée.

The ring on my finger is all politics.

But it's starting to feel so, so real...