Declan has been abnormally quiet ever since our trip to the hospital yesterday. I try to pry him away from his foul mood with a few comments, but it only seems to make him frown like I’m some nuisance.
If possible, the next day back only gets progressively worse. I can’t type with my right hand, so I’m limited to pecking individual keys with my left index finger. I’m tempted to throw my keyboard at the wall after only half an hour of working on a spreadsheet. Instead of resorting to violence, because we all know how that went last time, I text my knight in shining Armani.
Cal strolls into the office thirty minutes later. “I always thought it would be Declan who showed Dad what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his parenting style, but it turns out you did the favor for him.”
My chest aches for the children who grew up with such a cruel father. If only I could go back in time and throw a real punch.
Cal’s gaze narrows. “Don’t look at me that way. I don’t have nearly as many daddy issues as the other two.”
“That’s because you have a whole host of other problems.”
“It makes me layered.”
“No. It means you need to seek therapy.”
He laughs as he pulls out the metal chair across from me. “I’ve been there. Done that. Turns out if you’re not interested in changing, they can’t help you much.”
I shake my head. “Imagine that.”
He grins. “So I heard you needed my services.”
“Depends. How flexible are your plans over the next few weeks?”
“For you? Consider them canceled.”
I release a sigh. “I seriously owe you one. I can’t get much done with this brace when it takes me twenty minutes to type a single paragraph.”
“You’re going to regret asking for my help.”
“Probably, because you can’t focus for shit, but I’m all out of other options. I’m not about to spend hours next to a temp. At least this way you can make my job slightly more bearable.”
“You sure know how to flatter a man.”
“Declan doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.”
“Because, most days, he can barely be classified as human, let alone a man.”
Oh, he’s all man all right. I’ve seen the evidence in vivid detail.
Cal shudders at whatever expression is on my face. “Oh God. Whatever put that look on your face needs to go. Now.”
Declan’s mood deteriorates throughout the day. I’m almost hesitant about introducing my plan, but after all the work I put into it, I can’t go back now.
“Why are we stopping?” Declan reaches out to press the driver’s call button, but I stop him.
“Welcome to phase one of Operation Fake Dating.”
He turns in his seat and stares at me. “What are you talking about?”
“This is my plan. Together, we’re going to squash any doubts about our marriage, starting tonight.”
His lips curve downward. “With fake dating? What does that even mean when we are married?”
“It’s simple really.”
“I’m burning with anticipation here,” he deadpans.
I ignore his mood. “I planned a few public outings to make sure we are seen by anyone who is anyone in Chicago.”
“You lost me at public outings.” He reaches for the call button, but I latch onto his hand to stop him.
I release him instantly, afraid a torrent of butterflies might take flight in my stomach if I touch him for longer than a second. “I know you want to stay hidden away in your suburban mansion, but avoiding the press isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”
“It’s worked before.”
“I’m sure it has, but are you willing to bet your twenty-five-billion-dollar inheritance on it?”
I’m surprised he can get any words out with the way his teeth grind together.
“No.”
“I’m going to need you to trust me on this one.”
He remains silent, so I take it that he is willing to hear me out.
“I booked us a reservation for two at La Luna with a table overlooking the river. It took a lot of finagling to get one at the last minute, but I know a guy.”
“Does his name happen to be Benjamin Franklin?”
I grin. “Bribes work wonders. You taught me yourself.”
It feels good to return to our regularly scheduled programming. With him ignoring me for days, I kind of missed our back and forth. Even if it is only for a night.
“Why did it require a bribe in the first place? You could have told them it was for me.”
“You think that highly of yourself, don’t you?”
He shrugs, and I roll my eyes.
“For your information, name-dropping wouldn’t have worked here because I had a very special request that required some monetary motivation.”
“I’m hesitant to ask, but I feel legally obligated to as your husband.”
I laugh as I clap my hands together, leaning more toward evil genius rather than angelic. “Our table happens to be right next to the Chicago Chronicle’s lead gossip columnist’s.”
His spine straightens. “Now I’m intrigued for a very different reason.”
I glare. “I didn’t go through all this trouble for you to blow it by doing something stupid.”
He releases a heavy sigh. “How can you be sure they’re here tonight?”
“I’d tell you, but then that would make you an accessory to the crime.”
He shakes his head and looks out the window, but I make out a faint smile in the reflection. “You expect me to sit next to someone who called you a brainless babymaker and do nothing about it?”
“Aw. You actually sounded insulted for a second.”
He mutters something under his breath.
“Listen up. The plan is simple. We go to dinner, have a drink, and pretend we’re in love.”
“Because we’re fake dating,” he replies back with a robotic voice.
Finally. “Right! Now you’re getting it.”
“Dating you would be…”
I cut him off, growing more nervous with each judgmental stare he sends my way. “Painful. I don’t need you to tell me twice.”
His lips press together as he stays silent, scanning my face like an MRI of my soul. “Yes. Painful is exactly how I would describe this situation.” His voice is devoid of all emotion, and a chill spreads across my skin.
I swallow back the uncertainty and steel my spine. “Great. Now that we’re on the same page about all that, are you good to go? They’ll give away our table if we don’t show up in the next five minutes.”
“I’m only agreeing to this scheme because you broke a few laws to make it happen.”
“If I ever get caught, it’s a good thing I have you to bail me out of jail.”
“Who says I wouldn’t be in there with you?”
My grin might make my cheeks hurt, but his small smile causes my whole chest to ache.
Well, that shouldn’t be happening.
Avoiding your feelings doesn’t make them any less real.
Oh, shut up.
Plan a fake date, they said. It’ll be easy.
Said no one ever.
The hostess, who is now five hundred dollars richer thanks to me, guides us to the table located right beside the reporter. That’s all I can think of as Declan’s mask of indifference slides in place and his palm finds the small of my back. The warmth emanating off him bleeds into my skin, and I’m tempted to shimmy closer to him.
“Anything else I can get for you, Mr. and Mrs. Kane?”
The red-headed reporter looks up from her menu. A flicker of surprise passes over her features as her eyes scan Declan from head to toe.
I shake my head as Declan replies for us, “No, thank you.”
Declan’s hand breaks contact with my back as he pulls out my chair. I take a seat, and he pushes me closer to the table. Unlike other times, he doesn’t step away, but rather he leans forward.
His lips brush against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “You better be right about this.”
I shiver. “Have a little faith in me.”
“I’m a bit hesitant given your track record.” He chuckles, sending those butterflies in my stomach on fire.
“I take offense.”
“Forgive me.” His teeth graze the tip of my ear, sending another current of energy through me.
Is this part of the show? I’m extremely confused until I catch Declan’s eyes connecting with the reporter’s.
I release a pent-up breath as Declan pulls away and drops into his seat across from me. The weight of his stare presses against my chest like an anvil, making each inhale progressively more difficult.
I look past him only to lock eyes on the reporter. She types away on her phone, completely ignoring her date.
Something tells me she is taking notes.
Time to put on the show of your life. “I wish we were still on our honeymoon.”
Go along with it, I say with my eyes.
“I do too,” he says it without an ounce of sarcasm.
Huh. Does he actually mean that or is he lying to appease our audience? The first thought makes me push for more. “Why?”
“Because it turns out vacations aren’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Told you!”
His lips curve at the corners, but he remains quiet.
“What changed your mind?”
He leans in. “Not having to think about anything but which way I wanted to fuck you next.”
My sharp inhale isn’t staged. Neither is the way my heart beats like a war drum against my chest. My eyes flick between his burning gaze and the reporter’s flushed face.
“What are you doing?” I lean in and whisper with a forced smile. Although my gaze is locked on Declan’s, I can feel the reporter’s eyes tracking my every move.
He reaches out and tucks a braid behind my ear. “Selling a story,” he whispers.
“Then settle down, Romeo. This is a romance, not a porno.”
The way his eyes brighten has nothing to do with the candlelight. “Fine.” He grows bolder with his touches as his thumb traces my bottom lip. It sends a rush of warmth through my body.
“So, I was thinking…” I speak louder, gaining the attention of my target.
“That can never be a good thing.”
I laugh as I shove his shoulder. “Shut up. We both know you actually like my brain.”
“I like your heart more.”
For someone who sucks at using anything but grunts and orders to communicate, he sure knows how to make my insides melt from a single sentence.
Except it’s all a lie. “That’s…sweet.”
His lips press together in a thin line. I wonder if he does it to stop himself from laughing aloud.
“Anyway…I thought we could do something fun this weekend.”
“Define fun.”
“I want to host a little family get-together.”
His eyes speak of a hundred unspoken promises. There is no way he will go along with this plan, but it’s fun to pretend for the reporter’s sake.
“What kind of get-together?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“An F1 watch party!” This time, my smile is genuine. The idea seems like the perfect way to help Rowan and Declan get over their disagreement. Plus, I would love to spend more time with Zahra, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.
“No.”
I frown. “Why not? Rowan will be in town for a budget meeting, so it’s the perfect time for all of us to get together.”
He avoids my gaze as he assesses his menu. “That’s our thing.”
The way he says it makes my body buzz. “If you had it your way, everything would be our thing so that you never had to share me with anyone else, you territorial caveman.”
“I’m glad you finally understand. It took you long enough.”
Through the corner of my eye, I catch the reporter smiling at us.
“You can turn it down a notch. We’re married now. No one is going to swoop in and take me away from you. Although…”
“Don’t.”
The reporter scoots her chair a few inches closer.
“I would leave you for one man and one man only.”
He raises a brow. The reporter nearly tumbles out of her chair from the way she leans forward to hear us.
I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe two men. Absolutely three tops!”
He sighs. “This list of F1 drivers seems to be growing by the week.”
“It’s all your fault.”
“I’m well aware of my short-sightedness. Trust me when I say I regret it every single day.”
My smile turns flirtatious. “You’re cute when you get all possessive.” I don’t mean it, yet his nostrils seem to flare regardless.
“Not sure you’ll be feeling the same way once we get home.”
A blush spreads from my cheeks down my neck, unbeknownst to him. I expected Declan to entertain a fake date because his reputation needs it, but I didn’t think he would elicit all these reactions from me. My body doesn’t seem to understand his promises are nothing but fake. Hell, my brain is having a hard time making sense of the way his eyes seem to darken, the blacks of his pupils eating away at the dark brown irises.
I swallow the lump in my throat and pray I can make it through a few more of these. Deep down, I know it isn’t real, but my body seems to have a hard time understanding his words are nothing but empty promises.
I should have known going on a fake date would be a bad idea, but I don’t have many options. The only thing I can control is how much time I interact with him. Because if tonight is any hint at what the future might look like, I’m not sure I have the power to resist him. At least not when he talks and does things that make my heart race and my skin flush.
So what happens if our fake dating game turns into more? I’m too afraid to answer the question, although I think I have a good idea.
Sex. Love. And heartbreak.
