by T. K. Leigh
He laughs at my nickname for him, a twinkle visible in his eyes, even in the darkened car.
“Care to share how you knew Trevor would be dining there tonight?”
“Simple.” He rests his elbow on the center console, drumming his fingertips against the leather. “Theresa is actually a close friend of my neighbor in Southampton. They went to prep school together or something. I just so happened to see her post on Instagram yesterday that she’d bought a new dress for a dinner date with her beau. Friends asked where she was going, and she spilled. No information is too difficult to find out these days. Not with social media.”
“So you did stalk her.”
“Again, I prefer to call it research.”
“Okay. So you knew where they’d be. How did you get a reservation? From what I know of that place, they have a waiting list a mile long. You need to book months in advance.”
“That’s true, unless you know someone.”
“And you know someone.”
“I know a lot of people.”
“But does Trevor know people?” My voice is low and wavers slightly. “Or did Theresa just go in my place?” I suck in a breath, another possibility crossing my mind. A more heartbreaking possibility. “Or was it Theresa’s date all along?”
I never even considered that Trevor had cheated on me. He didn’t seem the type. Plus, we lived together. I would have noticed if he came home smelling of another woman’s perfume. Then again, there were plenty of nights he never came home at all. Was he lying to me the whole time?
“Does it matter?”
“What?” I shift my gaze to Julian.
“Does it matter?” he repeats, this time more forcefully. “At this moment, right here, right now…” He brings his hands to cup my face, an intensity in his eyes causing a surge of desire to pool in my stomach. “Does…it…matter?”
I swallow hard, trying to calm my racing heart, on the brink of insisting it does. Whether Trevor made that reservation for me or Theresa is the difference between me opening my heart to him again or constructing a wall and never allowing him in. But Julian has a point. All evening, I barely thought of Trevor and Theresa, despite them sitting mere feet away. Every ounce of my attention was devoted to Julian. I was in the moment with him. He was all that mattered.
“No,” I say softly. “It doesn’t.” My words come out sounding surprised, and I am a little. Regardless, they’re true. Right now, there is no Trevor or Theresa. It’s just Julian and me.
“Good.” He keeps my face in his hands for another moment before pulling away. The sudden lack of contact leaves me longing for more.
Not wanting to let on, I clear my throat, pulling my cell out of my clutch. “Are there any pressing dates I should be made aware of now? Like within the next week? I don’t have any vacation planned, and am able to work from out of the office, but I have a few big projects going on.”
I shift my eyes to him when he doesn’t say anything right away. His brows are pulled in, an analytical gaze on his face as he seems to assess me. I’m not sure what to make of it. Then he sighs, relaxing into the seat.
“This coming Thursday is July Fourth. The celebrations go all week, starting tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” My mouth becomes slack. “I have things I need to get done this weekend. I need to have a life outside of our arrangement.”
“And I understand that. I’m not asking you to attend every single party with me. Just the important ones.”
“And July Fourth is important.”
He nods. “The annual Red, White, and Blue Gala.”
“Gala?” I arch a brow. “Am I going to need a dress?”
He laughs, his eyes dancing in amusement. “You’re going to need a lot of dresses, swimsuits, stuff like that. Some of these events will be formal, like Fourth of July. Others will be less so. There will be charity auctions, boat christenings, perhaps even some Ladies’ Tea luncheons you’ll most likely be invited to once word gets around you’re my girlfriend.”
My stomach suddenly feels weighted down. Lowering my head, I fiddle with the hem of the dress I bought at a discount clothing store, inadequacy washing over me.
“Do you honestly think this will work, Julian? This lifestyle you lead is vastly different from mine. Hell, for all intents and purposes, I’m homeless right now. The only reason I’m not on a street corner holding up a cardboard sign is because Chloe’s letting me sleep on the pullout couch in her den. The idea of anyone in your social circle accepting me is ridiculous. Don’t you think you’d be better off finding someone who knows the difference between the salad and fish fork?”
With a smirk, he grabs my hand, stopping me from fidgeting. “The fact that you know some settings have both a salad and fish fork shows you’re not as inexperienced as you’d like me to believe. We may not know each other well, but the instant I saw you, I knew you were the only person who could do this with me. The only woman I’d want to do this with.” He brings my hand to his lips, treating my skin to a delicious kiss. “So bury your doubt. Your unabashed confidence is what caught my attention. Don’t let the idea that you’re not good enough, like Trevor made you think, take it away. You are good enough. Hell, you’re better than most people can ever dream to be. Don’t forget that. Okay?”
I slowly turn my eyes from his, breathless from the passion and genuine affection in his words. “Okay.” It’s all I can manage.
After a few silent moments, the car comes to a stop. I glance out the window to see we’re already at Chloe’s building. Julian and his driver step out at the same time. When my door opens, I smile in thanks at his driver before turning to Julian. He places his hand on my lower back, leading me toward the brownstone.
The closer we get to the front door, the more my heart rate increases. What’s the proper protocol for saying goodnight to the man you’re pretending to date? I doubt I’d find the answer in any rule book. Perhaps this entire experience will give me more material for the column. Instead of just giving advice on normal relationships, I can give tips for fake relationships, too. I’m already writing it in my head…Fifty Rules for Pretending to Date an Undateable Man.
Not wanting to endure any more awkwardness than I already have, I take control of the situation, facing Julian and extending my hand toward him. “Thanks for dinner. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
Squinting, he eyes my hand, a bemused smirk forming on his lips. “A handshake?”
“Yes. Your driver obviously knows about our arrangement, as does Chloe, since she and Nora were sitting next to me when you called. There’s no need to put on an act right now. So, thank you for dinner.” I extend my hand even farther, making it clear that I’m serious about the handshake. When he lifts his hand, I exhale a small breath of relief, only to let out a surprised squeak when he grabs my hip instead, pulling me against him.
In an instant, the desire I’d struggled to suppress all evening flickers back to life as my body fuses into his. He brings a hand to my face, tilting my head back, forcing my eyes to his. They’re so intense. So consuming. So vivid. The hair on my nape stands on end, every inch of me aching with raw need.
“Do you honestly believe the only reason I touch you is to put on a show? To keep up an act?” His voice is deep and lustful as he lowers his mouth toward my neck. A slave to his unspoken command, I crane my head, this dance between us feeling like one we’ve done dozens of times over. Instead, we’re two strangers.
“The thought’s crossed my mind.”
“Well, get the thought out of your mind. Yes, I had certain criteria I was looking for in approaching someone about the prospect of this little arrangement. Smart, funny, confident. Most importantly, attractive.” He nuzzles against my skin, the roughness of his scruff jarring, exciting, and everything I need but didn’t realize it.
“Even though you want to keep emotions out of it?” I murmur, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as his breath tortures my skin. It’s pure agony, but in the most addicting w
ay.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be attracted to the person.” He lightly runs a finger down the curve of my neck, his breath following the same path, so close yet still not crossing any line. “And I am profoundly attracted to you.” His hands cup my cheeks and my eyes flutter open, staring into his enamored gaze once more. “You’re one of the most alluring women I’ve seen in a very long time. You have a classic beauty to you. One women would pay thousands of dollars to have, but it’s natural for you.”
I part my lips, my breath coming in pants the longer his body remains pressed against mine.
“And you’re confident in your own skin. Skin thousands of men would love to taste.” He smooths my hair behind my shoulder, his hand brushing the exposed flesh. “But what had me absolutely mesmerized was this mouth.” He shifts his eyes from mine, focusing on my mouth.
When he brings his lips within a breath of mine, my knees weaken. Desperate for some sort of release, I squeeze my thighs together. Mr. Winky, as I’ve named my battery-operated boyfriend, will definitely be getting a workout tonight.
“The things that came out of it were witty, charming, and full of hope. With each word you spoke, I was hungry for more. More of your words. More of your mouth. More of you.”
He leans even closer, his lips hovering so near to mine I can practically taste them. Wine. Spice. And a hint of chocolate from the soufflé we shared.
“No kissing,” I murmur, my teeth chattering. “You agreed.”
I sense his mouth curve into a smile. Then he drops his hold on me. I open my eyes to see him retreating down the stairs.
I’m unable to move, to breathe, to think, a statue frozen in time as I watch him walk toward the car. Before he ducks inside, he glances back at me, a mischievous grin on those lips I was a whisper away from kissing, despite insisting we not.
“Kissing is for amateurs, Guinevere. You’re in the big leagues now.” He holds my gaze a moment longer, then winks before disappearing into the car.
As his car drives off into the night, I lean against the door, placing my hand over my racing heart, trying to calm it down.
One thing is abundantly clear… I am royally fucked.
Chapter Fifteen
“How did the date go?” Chloe asks the following morning when I emerge from my makeshift bedroom. I head toward the one-cup brewer in the tiny kitchen and pop a pod into it. Instantly, the aroma of coffee fills the air. Just the smell of this magic potion helps erase the cobwebs from my restless and frustrated night, thanks to one Julian Gage.
“It wasn’t a date, Chloe.” I avoid her eyes as I answer. “Just dinner to discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“So you said yesterday.” She looks up from her laptop where she’s probably working on a story about some celebrity gossip that hit the wires within the past few hours. Chloe typically pulls all-nighters on Fridays and Saturdays, since that tends to be when all the juicy stories happen. “Have you come to a decision about this ‘arrangement’?”
After adding a bit of milk and sweetener to my coffee, I join her on the couch, keeping my head held high. “I have. And I’ve agreed to help.”
“Hmm.” Her lips press together.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She waves a hand dismissively, returning her attention to her laptop.
“No. It’s not nothing. You don’t hmm unless you want to say something but are holding back. What is it? Why did you go from wanting me to jump Julian’s bones to giving him the stink eye the instant he showed up at the door last night? Is it because he’s ridiculously good-looking and you don’t think it makes sense for someone like me to be with him?” With each word, my voice gets louder. “Because I’m more than aware I don’t fit the mold of the cookie-cutter, waif-like model a guy like him would normally be with. But I—”
“Evie, no. It’s not that. It’s just…” She blows out a breath as she pulls her gray and lilac locks into a messy bun on top her head. “Why didn’t you tell me it was Julian Gage?”
I furrow my brow. “Why does it matter? And how do you know his last name? I don’t think I told you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then how—”
“You don’t know who he is, do you?”
I shrug, feeling like an idiot for not Googling him before going out with him. Last time I was single, Myspace was still a thing. That’s how long it’s been.
Pushing out an exasperated sigh, Chloe types on her laptop before turning it toward me. Heat rushes through me when Julian’s vibrant blue eyes stare back from a Wikipedia article. The ache I’d momentarily relieved with the use of my battery-operated boyfriend is back and more intense than it was last night.
“Evie?”
I refocus on Chloe, discreetly wiping at my lip in the hopes that I’m not drooling. Thankfully, I’m not.
“Should I leave you and the laptop alone for a minute?” She giggles.
Rolling my eyes, I zero in on the screen and read a rather lengthy biography of the man who left me a quivering pile of hormones last night.
Julian Gage was completely unknown until Theodore Price, a distant relative of the Vanderbilt family, passed away, leaving the majority of his vast fortune to him. This prompted a fierce contest over the will by Mr. Price’s children, who assumed they’d inherit everything. While Mr. Price didn’t disinherit them altogether, providing each of his three children a rather generous testamentary gift…in most people’s standards…it was nothing compared to the billions of dollars he’d gifted Julian.
Mr. Price’s children tried to allege the will was invalid and that Julian exerted undue influence over an old man who wasn’t of sound mind. However, the court found that his children wouldn’t know whether he were of sound mind, considering they’d rarely spoken to him over the past few decades. Mr. Price’s housekeeper testified to that fact. She also stated that Mr. Price and Julian become acquainted when Mr. Price saw him in a local park and offered to teach him how to play chess, since he seemed interested in the game. I can’t help but smile at the image in my mind of a sixteen-year-old Julian befriending an older man over a game of chess. When I was sixteen, most boys only cared about video games. I can’t see Julian as someone who was ever interested in video games.
Upon Mr. Price’s death, Julian took the helm of the Price-Young empire. Hotels. Restaurants. Commercial buildings. There are hundreds of properties in New York City alone. It’s all incredibly impressive, but what catches my eye is the mention of a non-profit he’s tied to. An organization aimed at helping victims of domestic violence. It certainly piques my interest, another puzzle piece of who Julian truly is sliding into place.
I should have stopped reading there, but the section labeled “Personal Life” grabs my attention and I scroll down. Labeled one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, there are various photos of him posing with beautiful woman after beautiful woman. Models. Actresses. Heiresses. Every single one of them is all legs with barely an ounce of fat, a complete one-eighty from my ample chest and curvy hips. It again begs the question I posed last night… Why me?
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Chloe asks when I push away from the laptop, a sickness forming in my stomach.
“Why would he pursue me if he has his pick of any number of gorgeous women?”
She shrugs, silently agreeing. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Evie. That’s all.”
“What do you know about him?” I meet her eyes, unsure if I want to hear her answer.
“No more than what you read about in that Wiki article. There’s no information at all about his younger years. He’s an extremely private guy. People try to get details about him from those he’s closest to, but they all stay tightlipped. There’s a great deal of speculation about why he’s never had a serious relationship, although he’s been photographed with plenty of gorgeous women, as you see. My vote is he’s gay.”
I choke on my coffee. “I accused him of the same thing
,” I say through a fit of coughing.
“You did?”
The tense atmosphere slowly wanes. Now we’re just two friends dishing about my date last night. Who cares if Julian has a Wikipedia page? Hell, even I have one because of my position at the magazine, although there’s not much information on it. That doesn’t make me someone worth knowing. Granted, Julian probably has a few billion reasons why he’s worth knowing, but that doesn’t make a difference to me. I’d still find him endearing, regardless of the size of his bank account.
“Trust me. There is absolutely no way that man is gay.”
This catches Chloe’s attention and she smirks. “Is that so?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I thought you weren’t going to sleep with him. Hell, you said even kissing was off the table.”
“I didn’t sleep with him. We didn’t even kiss.” I waggle my brows.
“You didn’t? Then—”
“I told him my conditions, and he agreed to all of them. I thought for sure he’d insist on kissing me if we’re pretending to date.”
“It is a bit of a challenge, isn’t it?”
“Not to him, apparently. He said kissing’s for amateurs. And after the goodnight kiss that wasn’t last night, I’d say he’s right. Kissing is for amateurs.” I bite my lower lip, reeling in my smile. “And Julian Gage is certainly no amateur.” I fan myself, causing both of us to break out into a fit of giggles.
When our laughter fades, her expression turns serious once more. “So you’re going to do it? You’re going to be his fake girlfriend?”
“I am,” I respond thoughtfully before my eyes harden. “But you can not tell a soul the truth, that it’s just for show. You can’t use this in any of your articles. This is incredibly off the record.”
She reaches across the couch and clutches my hand. “You have my word. If you say it’s off the record, it’s off the record. I like my job.”
I laugh slightly, knowing how seriously Viv takes this kind of thing.
“But I value our friendship even more. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”