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“You’ll accept the money from me anyway. My money. From my bank account. Not my uncle’s cash.” He brought his face closer, eyes holding mine like a challenge. “And, Talia, the only thing that will ever be fake between us is our hate for one another. Nothing else.”
“Ryan, please.”
“No,” he snapped out. “I will not involve you any further.”
“Well, too bad, because I don’t want you dating her,” I rushed out the other side of the story, the part I’d been trying to keep trapped behind my stubborn lips. “I can’t handle that.”
I started to pull my hand away, pissed off at his stubbornness and my inability to keep my thoughts to myself. He closed his hand around my wrist, and the next thing I knew, he had my back to the wall by the dresser, and I was imprisoned by his frame.
He was breathing hard as he flattened his palms on the wall alongside my face, his chest nearly brushing my body. “I told you if dating her was a problem, I wouldn’t do it. I’d find someone else.”
“This isn’t about her and Anthony. It’s about you,” I whispered. “I don’t want you ‘dating’ anyone else.” When he remained quiet, silently studying me, I went on, “Just imagine for one second it was me that’d be going to Italy with another man. Playing his fake girlfriend. How would you feel?”
Ryan angled his head, his eyes doing that “darkening” thing that was intimidating and sexy as hell.
“I wouldn’t let that happen.” His eyes moved to my mouth again. It felt as if he was doing everything in his power not to crush his lips over mine. Like he thought an angry, possessive kiss would let me know his words were facts, carved in stone.
“You’re a hypocrite, then,” I said after I freed a sharp breath from my tight chest.
“I’m fine with that,” he murmured. I lifted my hands between our bodies and set my palms on his chest, prepared to shove. But then he said, “Fine, I won’t date her or anyone if it bothers you.” His brows relaxed and so did his shoulders. “I’ll find another way to get the money.”
My body went limp at his surrender. Then the guilt took over. “And if you can’t?” I shook my head. “No, I won’t let you risk Anthony’s life because I don’t want you dating someone else.”
“Fake dating.” And with that, he pushed away from the wall and turned, clawing his big hands through his dark locks.
I took a few seconds to process everything, then pleaded, “Please, just think about it. Enzo’s going to escort Maria to the party tomorrow. She doesn’t want to be alone.” I fidgeted with the hem of my white tee. “I’d just not go, but I was hoping to talk to Kate Maddox. I was thinking about trying my hand at the catering business. And since she runs an event planning company, I thought it’d make sense for me to, at least, introduce myself.”
Ryan went still at my words, but he didn’t turn.
“It’s a long shot, I know. And I don’t plan to pitch to her at the party, that’d be rude. But any face-to-face time might help down the road if I decide to try and save my restaurant by catering.” That was one of the main reasons why Enzo and I had planned to go to the party in the first place once Maria offered the free tickets.
“Honestly, I forgot all about the party after everything that happened. Never got a costume,” he remarked in a low voice, slowly facing me. “This is not me saying yes to fake dating you. It’s a no to Calista, though.” He paused. “And a yes to us going to the party together. Not sure if you were actually asking, but tough shit, I’m your plus-one. I don’t want you going by yourself.”
“Enzo will still be there. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Hell, Enzo being there is one reason I should go. Unless you want to enlighten me now as to why I shouldn’t worry?” He stalked over to his dresser and began turning his framed photos to face the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“You wanted privacy.” He jerked a thumb toward the photos. “Doesn’t feel so private with eyes on us.”
My skin pebbled as I tried to decipher what he was suggesting. He erased the space between us and held my cheek before his hand slid into my hair to hold the back of my head.
“What are you doing?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper as I tried to understand how we went from talking about his dad and his guilt about his brother to what seemed to be turning into a hot moment between us. Based on the last few days, he and I ran on two settings. Hot or cold. Like the weather. Arguing or nearly kissing. And, as of last night, we had finally kissed. And then some. Had we turned a corner?
“I’m just looking at you,” he said in a hoarse voice. “And promising you I’ll take care of you no matter what.” He let go of my head and dragged the pad of his thumb along my lower lip, tugging it down a bit. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m nervous,” I confessed.
“Why?” He cocked his head.
“Scared.” Not for the reason you think.
“You don’t need to be.” He traced the contour of my cheek with the back of his hand, and a quiet moment passed between us as we stared into each other’s eyes.
I looked over at the photos Ryan had turned, and it felt like the answer. His guilt and loyalty to his brother would stand in the way of his own happiness.
But I wasn’t ready to accept that bit of truth.
