Page 40 of He Falls First

If I’m not careful, I’ll fall hard for a man who isn’t really mine. A man who’s only pretending to want me.

“I want to keep up appearances,” Hendrix says. “In case any of my staff have doubts.” His gaze burns into me, as scorching as his touch. “Unless you’d rather stop?”

Stop. The word sticks in my throat. I shake my head.

“Good.” Hendrix lifts my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles, a feather-light kiss that makes my heart stutter. “Now, eat. I had this made special for you.”

Special for me. Ridiculous, I know, and yet a ribbon of happiness unfurls inside me. I dig into my meal, savoring each bite, aware of Hendrix watching me with a small smile on his face.

His foot nudges against mine under the table, a subtle caress, and I nudge him back. He can’t tell me that part’s just for show. We really are having an intimate dinner in his home, and I find that I don’t want to be anywhere else.

“Your family must be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” I say, trying to steer the conversation towards something less unsettling.

“Yeah, I guess,” Hendrix says, clearing his throat. “My upbringing wasn’t exactly picture-perfect, though. We struggled financially when I was a kid.”

“Really?” I look around. “I wouldn’t have guessed from all this. I guess I was lucky. We were pretty comfortable, middle class. My family was always supportive.”

Supportive. When I think about my dad now, that’s not exactly the word that comes to mind. I’d rather hear more about Hendrix’s folks, though.

“Are you close with your family?”

Hendrix’s face darkens for a moment, and I can tell I’ve hit a sensitive subject. “Let’s just say we haven’t always seen eye to eye,” he says tersely.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” I murmur quickly.

“Don’t be.” Hendrix shrugs. “It is what it is. Made me determined to build something better for myself.”

I change the subject. “Have you tried this chocolate mousse? It’s divine!”

Hendrix takes a bite and nods in agreement. I think he appreciates my attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your wardrobe on our dates,” Hendrix says, his demeanor shifting back to his usual gruffness. “You have a great sense of style, but I think we need to up the ante a bit for our public appearances.”

“Really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been paying that much attention to my wardrobe choices?”

“Of course,” he replies without missing a beat. “It’s all part of maintaining the illusion, after all. You need to look the part of my fiancée, and the details matter. And besides, it’s hard not to notice when you look so stunning.”

My cheeks warm. “Alright then, Mr. Fashion Expert,” I tease. “What else have you noticed?”

Hendrix chuckles and leans back in his chair, pretending to scrutinize me from head to toe. “Well, let’s see. Yesterday, you wore that white blouse with the ruffles down the front, paired with a black pencil skirt. And the day before that, you had on a lovely green dress, with a subtle floral pattern.”

“Wow.” I’m impressed and slightly unnerved by his accuracy. “I didn’t realize you were so observant. Maybe I should put on a little fashion show for you sometime.”

“Only if it includes a striptease.” He sounds serious, but he tries out a wink that looks hilarious on his gruff face.

“Deal,” I say, still laughing.

But as the laughter fades, the air between us shifts, becoming charged with an unspoken tension. We’ve been treading a fine line, and I honestly don’t know if we’re capable of joking around like this. Our quips come dangerously close to the truth.

Hendrix chuckles softly as I stand and pretend to undo the top button of my blouse.

My heart races and I’m drawn closer to him, captivated by the intensity in his sharp green eyes. I know I shouldn’t continue, that the striptease thing is only a joke, but something inside me yearns to see what happens to Hendrix if I push the boundaries.

I take the button apart, for real.

As I reach for the next button, my fingers tremble slightly. I’m acutely aware of Hendrix’s gaze on me, ravenous and unyielding. He doesn’t speak, but the rigidness of his body tells me everything I need to know—he wants me.

The next button’s gone.

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