Page 13 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

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“I think that went well,” Nik said, as he set down their suitcases and shut the bedroom door firmly. They were in the room Varo usually gave him, right at the top of the house and almost alone, but complete privacy was necessary. No point hiring a (fake) fake girlfriend if anyone could pass by and overhear the fact that she was, you know, fake.

When Aria didn’t answer, he turned to find her standing in the middle of the room, staring at the queen-sized bed. Nik smiled and ran a hand through his hair, stretching out the aching muscles in his back. “Yeah, the room’s amazing. I love this house.”

Abruptly, Aria turned to him, her focus on the bed forgotten. “What was that?”

Nik’s smile faded. He wasn’t exactly an expert in social interaction, but her tone did not sound positive. “What was what?”

“That. Down there. I know the point is to fake this, but…” she gave a brittle, nervous sort of laugh. “I didn’t know you were that good an actor.”

“Was I… supposed to be bad?” Nik asked slowly. Then he realised what he was saying and frowned. “Wait, what? I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

For a moment, she just looked at him with something steely in her gaze. She was beautiful, of course, even after the flight. He was starting to think she couldn’t not be beautiful. Her hair was dark now and longer than it had been when they met. She was wearing shorts and a vest, but the way she wore them—he couldn’t even describe it. Something about her commanded attention, and it was sexy as hell.

At that moment, though, she seemed fragile despite her power. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched him almost warily, as if expecting him to turn into a monster before her eyes. The tension swelled for several rigid seconds. But then she shook her head and slowly seemed to relax.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going on about. You just shocked me. I didn’t know you could lie like that.”

He grimaced at the word. Lie. He hadn’t felt as if he was lying downstairs, but he supposed he must’ve been. And he was definitely lying to her, kind of. Sort of. Was paying an extortionate amount of money to keep her with him under false pretences a lie?

No. That is the behaviour of a potential serial killer.

Oh, for God’s sake.

“It was easy,” he admitted, “to… perform love. Because I’ve seen so much of it. My parents, before my father died. My sister and her husband. I wouldn’t say I’m a good liar, but that I can do.”

The last bit of hesitancy left her expression. “That’s sweet. I wish I could say the same,” she chuckled, wandering around the room, from the ornate vanity he’d never used to the huge, glass-panelled wardrobe. “My parents fucking hate each other.”

The humour in her voice startled a laugh out of him. He almost forgot the unease that had cloaked her moments earlier; in fact, she seemed to have forgotten it. Maybe it was just nerves. It was easy to forget that she could feel something so mundane, because everything about Aria was bold and fearless—but their situation was pretty fucking weird, and she had vulnerabilities like everyone else. She must. Despite how perfect he found her, she was only human.

“Not a happy family?” he asked.

She smirked as she walked past him into the bathroom. “God, no. But divorce is a sin, so on they trudge.” She looked at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Fucking kill me now. Oh, look, there’s little moisturisers in here, like a hotel.”

“That’s G. She takes these parties very seriously.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Aria said. Nik felt something in him relax, something he hadn’t even realised was there. He wanted her to like his friends. He needed her to, almost.

“Eventually,” Nik blurted out, “I’d like to be like my parents. Or my sister. Or even Georgia and Varo. It’s ridiculous how much they love each other. That’s what I want.” He had no idea why he’d said that. They weren’t even on that topic anymore. They’d moved on to little moisturisers, for fuck’s sake, but apparently his mind hadn’t gotten the message.

Still, Aria didn’t question it. She leaned forward to reach the cabinet over the massive marble counter. Her top rose up, and he tried not to stare too much at the expanse of lower back it revealed. “That’s funny,” she said lightly. “That you’re so into true love, I mean, but you’ve got yourself a fake girlfriend.”

If only she fucking knew. “Well, I’ve always wanted love, but in a distant sort of way. I suppose…” He faltered as a realisation hit him. It wasn’t a particularly flattering one, but he said it anyway. “I suppose I assumed it would fall into my lap, like everything else. So, I never put any effort into romance.”

“Hmm.” She caught his eye in the mirror. “I feel like you’re expecting me to judge you here.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to get paid.”

He snorted, even as the words scratched at his heart. “I’m aware. So, what about you, chrysí mou?”

She smirked. “See, you think I’m gonna ask you what that means, so you can tell me some romantic shit and I’ll swoon.”

“Ah... What?” Nik blinked.

“Cut the Greek. You know it sounds sexy. And you just can’t stop being a dirty little flirt.” Aria winked as she strutted out of the bathroom. Her hip brushed his as she passed through the door, and Nik’s mind scrambled. Did she really think Greek was sexy? And what did it mean that she’d called him dirty with that teasing smile on her face and that sparkle in her eyes? And why was he trying to figure out ways to get her to say it again?

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