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When we arrive at our destination, the exterior is strewn with twinkling lights, wreaths, and holly boughs. Turns out, Cameron’s grandfather booked theentireresort for his holiday festivities.
Inside, staff and party planners are scurrying around, going over checklists and finalizing details for the birthday bash this evening.
Cam checks us in at the front desk, and it’s only when he hands me a key card that realization hits me like a gut punch.
We have separate rooms.
He must see the devastation on my face because, as he ushers me to the elevator, he does what Mr. Cameron Steele, multibillion-dollar CEO, does so very well. Damage control.
“Look, when I booked the rooms, I didn’t know. I mean, I assumed you wouldn’t want to share a room with me, so I booked us adjoining rooms. That way you could have privacy but we could still maintain the appearance of a devoted couple.”
I must look like a bobble head toy as I nod.
You had fun, Izzy. Time to play your fake part as a fake fiancée in a fake relationship, and move on.
“Of course,” I answer stiffly.
I’m being unreasonable. Cam’s done nothing wrong, but I just don’t know how to handle the new dynamic between us.
Do I even want a real relationship with Cameron Steele?
I swore to myself I was going to find a decent family man, one who wants the same things I do. A man who will be home for dinner with our kids and me every night. A man who will be satisfied with his wife being a stay-at-home mom.
Not a supermodel. Not a celebrity. Not a socialite.
Our rooms are across from the elevator, and as the doors slide open, Cameron says, “We could share a room. I mean, just because I booked two doesn’t mean we have to use both.” He grins a cocky, sexy grin that makes my insides flutter, but I just can’t right now.
“You know what, I think I’m going to order room service and take a long, hot bath before the party tonight. Maybe a nap too.”
Before he can say another word, I slide the keycard into its slot, unlock the door, and duck into my room, closing the door behind me.
Four hours and a relaxing bubble bath later, there’s a knock on the door joining our rooms. It’s almost time for us to make our way to the party, and I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup.
My dress is a floor-length dark green satin Dior gown that sets off the auburn highlights in my hair.
I’ve never worn a designer dress before, but Cameron gave explicit instructions on what I was to purchase, and I was in no position to argue. It’s his dime. He’s running the show, and of course Cameron Steele wouldn’t be caught dead with a fiancée who wears her own handmade creations or, heaven forbid, a thrift store find.
I can’t even get upset about that. Not while wearingthisdress. It’s fabulous.
I unlock my side of the connecting door feeling a little giddy. I’m anxious to see Cameron’s reaction.
When I swing the door open, I’m not disappointed.
He’s momentarily stunned as his wide-eyed gaze sweeps over me. “You look beautiful,” he chokes out. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“It’s the dress.” I do a little twirl. “I think any woman would look amazing in this dress.”
“I disagree. The dress is lovely. The woman is exquisite.”
Butterflies flutter low in my belly.
“I have something for you.” He holds out his hand, and on his palm rests a velvet jewelry box. When he opens it, it’s my turn to be stunned.
Inside is a magnificent princess-cut diamond ring that has to be two or three carats.
Taking my hand, he slides the engagement ring on my finger, then leans forward and kisses my cheek.
“Tonight the most beautiful woman at the party will be on my arm.”
