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I even covered all the damn expenses. Couture designer gowns, ego slaying shoes, glittery handbags big enough to swallow an elephant, the works.
The entire steaming enchilada.
No, she wasn’t getting me, but I was never on the table. Dating is the last fucking thing on my list of experiences, right next to eating fried wombat and a nice bout of hantavirus.
When I laid my cards out, I made that perfectly clear.
Vanessa knew precisely what she was getting into. With me, it’s always strictly business.
Absolutely no romance.
I have a reputation for not getting involved, and I gave her zero indication it would be different with her pretty smile.
I knew better. I’m too smart to fall into the fake-love-turned-real trap that claims so many other billionaires in this town.
When I needed a fake girlfriend, I intended to keep her fake and at a safe distance.
But I watch the way she smiles so innocently, my lip curling with disgust.
How did I miss it?
For all the arranging and agreeing we’d done, I never saw it coming.
I never once imagined she’d ambush me in the back of my limo.
Shewas the one who threw her leg over my lap and thrust her tits in my face like Thanksgiving dinner.
The memory makes my teeth grind.
We’d been at a movie premiere—some indie flick gone big—and the only reason I was there at all was because the producer, Dane Jacobs, also headed Homes for Seattle, one of the charities my company supports.
I went because I had to, and I brought Vanessa as a favor.
A fucking favor she repaid by telling me she had so much more to offer if I’d just get over my rules and let her ride my cock all the way to happily ever after.
And damn, did she offer.
My skin crawls at the thought.
It’s not that she’s not attractive. Most men would go to war over a woman like her with straight red hair that’s almost auburn and naturally plump lips.
Still,attractivedoesn’t mean insta-love.
It certainly didn’t mean I wanted to get it on in the back of a car with a relationship prop after an event I had little interest in.
On the screen, she flicks her hair over her shoulder as she tells the world her version of our relationship—how we met, which is almost true, and what happened after, which is where the lying starts.
“I didn’t even think he was interested in me at first,” she says slowly, teasing out her words. “I mean, look at him. He’s gorgeous and brilliant and so wealthy, right? I didn’t mind his past—and he hates when people talk about that, so I won’t.”
Fuck, I might just break my own jaw today.
“We kept running into each other at charity events,” she continues, batting her eyes. “But one day... one day, he pulled me aside. Shepherd kissed me and told me that he thought we could reallybesomething special.”
“Wow. That sounds so romantic,” Martha the host says, batting her lashes back at the liar.
I snort, unable to help myself.
Bull. Shit.
