Page 14 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

Wait, what were they talking about?

Oh, yes. He hid his confusion—and his frankly excessive arousal—behind the best smirk he could muster, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. “You didn’t answer my question. What about you?”

“About me?” She hauled her suitcase onto the bed—impressive, because that thing weighed a ton—and started the lock combination.

“Do you want to find love?”

Aria rolled her eyes. “I found it several times. Never quite got the hype. Love is like a diamond: costs a lot, has a great rep, but at the end of the day it’s just a shiny rock. It has no purpose and no value beyond what we’ve assigned to it. Most people just want to say they’ve got one.”

He gaped as she opened her suitcase and sorted through a pile of glittery fabrics. He had never, in all his life, heard such a cynical analysis of love. And he’d been a pro footballer since he was seventeen.

The beast she’d awoken inside him was howling its displeasure. It demanded that he prove her wrong, that he change that hard set to her pretty mouth and light up the shadows that wreathed her words. But before he could even begin, Aria looked up and flashed him a smile. “No offence,” she said wryly.

Nik choked down his impassioned responses and said, “None taken.”

* * *

The household staggered into life by 3 p.m. Where Nik led, Aria must follow, so she was relieved to find that his plans for the day revolved around the villa’s pool. He spent the afternoon thrashing about in the water with his mates, a series of men whose names she was never going to remember.

She paid attention only to the ones she’d already heard. Like Alvaro, or Varo, Nik’s best friend and Georgia’s boyfriend. He was a handsome Spaniard, if you were into the long-hair-and-bottomless-eyes thing. His ink was fantastic, too. And he seemed just as sweet as Georgia, if slightly quieter.

Then there was Kieran, a Brit with dark skin and a shy smile that made Aria’s heart melt. She found shy people fascinating, probably because she absolutely could not relate. Whatever the reason, she liked Kieran on the spot. His girlfriend, Laurie, was less easy to warm to—not because there was anything wrong with her, but because she only spoke French. Aria had failed French at school, along with almost every other subject. She did manage a mangled sort of “Comment ca-va?” though. Laurie, unsurprisingly, was not particularly impressed. But they had Georgia for company on the sun loungers, nattering away non-stop and translating parts of the conversation.

“I’ve told everyone about you,” Georgia was saying happily. “I ran through the house, I did, after youse got here! I shook all these lazy buggers awake and told ‘em, Nik’s got a girl!”

Thank you, Georgia, for doing half of my work for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.

“Course, most of ‘em fell right back to sleep.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “Honestly. They best be ready to go by tonight, at least!”

“You guys take this party pretty seriously,” Aria murmured, most of her attention on her sketchbook. She stared at the little 3-D heart she’d just finished shading. What should she write in the centre? Get fucked? Or Dior slut?

“You’re damned right we do!” Georgia cried. “Especially the lads. Most of them don’t get much time to relax.”

Aria flicked a gaze over to the pool. The guys, plus a couple of girls she hadn’t met yet, were playing some sort of raucous game involving three footballs and a series of highly questionable underwater tackles. “The poor dears,” Aria deadpanned. “They seem so stressed.”

Georgia snorted out a laugh. “Oh, you and Nik are so perfect for each other. I bet he absolutely dies over you! Bless him.” She chuckled as if Aria and Nik pairing up was the sweetest event in modern history. Then she said something in French and Laurie started laughing too. Georgia must be some kind of linguistic genius, because earlier on she’d been speaking fluent Spanish with Alvaro. Then there was Kieran, who must speak French to date Laurie—and, of course, Nik, who spoke two languages at least.

Aria made a mental note to download DuoLingo.

“Do you fancy a bagel, babe?” Georgia asked suddenly. “I’ve really got a hankering, you know. Love a bagel, me.”

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Laurie, veux-tu un bagel?”

“Oui, merci,” Laurie drawled. Aside from the movement of her bee-stung lips, the brunette remained completely still. She reminded Aria of a cat lounging on hot concrete.

As Georgia hustled off, Aria wondered if sketching Nik right now—those thick muscles dripping wet and glistening in the sun—would count as work. Because if she was his real girlfriend, she’d probably draw him. So, as his fake girlfriend…

“He-llo.”

Aria looked up sharply at the shadowy figure looming over her. “Uh… hi?”

The figure sat down on the sun lounger Georgia had just vacated. Now he was out of the sun, Aria saw an unusually tall man whose low-slung trunks displayed a lean, cut, tattooed body. Unfortunately, the tattoos were shit. He grinned, displaying a row of teeth that were strangely identical in size and shape, dominating his mouth like a pearly brick wall. His pale hair curled around his carved cheekbones, and his eyes were a bright, startling green.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said, leaning back on his hands in a way that sort of… puffed out his chest. He ran his eyes over her body, brows raised, and she became slightly conscious of her tiny bikini. “I’m Shenker.”

Ah. There was another name she’d heard. Nik didn’t like this guy. He hadn’t said so, of course; she got the feeling he’d never say anything unkind. But when they’d been running over the endless guest list on the plane, he’d sneered slightly as he said Tom Shenker’s name.

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