Page 62 of It's Not All Fake

Liam studies me carefully. “On the one hand, you want fireworks and kisses in the rain, but on the other hand, you want love to happen during ordinary, stressful life.”

I grin mischievously. “Can’t a girl have both?”

He smiles back at me, clearly amused by my answer. He brushes his thumb against my cheek as his expression grows more serious. “Sure, you can.”

My gut tightens. What does he mean by that?

“Well, that settles it. I’m taking you to the DMV on our next date.”

I burst out laughing and he grins.

“No, thank you.” I giggle.

He frowns, thinking. “Joint root canal?”

I crack up, completely not expecting his sense of humor.

He props himself up on his arm, gazing down at me. “Chloe, I just want to give you what you want,” he says, half-teasing, half-serious.

My giggles subside as he tenderly brushes my hair off my forehead, looking at me with adoration.

“Okay, then give me what I want,” I challenge him.

He knows exactly what I mean. He presses his lips against mine, kissing me deeply.

I’m aware that, despite my best efforts, I am completely falling for Liam.

But we’re in Hollywood. Deep down, I know the twist is coming.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LIAM

Her smile and that cute dimple on her right cheek... Fuck.

Chloe beamed, trying on outfits in the quaint boutique shops on Catalina Island. Her cheeks flushed pink, uncomfortable with the idea of being pampered, and it only made her look more adorable.

We had sex… so much sex. We talked about topics ranging from childhood memories to pet peeves. I’ll be extra careful not to leave toothpaste in the sink.

“Liam?” A man’s voice suddenly snaps me back to the present. Around the spacious conference room table, fifteen pairs of eyes are fixed on me, expecting a response.

Clearing my throat, I manage, “I think that sounds fine.” Thankfully, I’ve caught enough of the business discussion to respond with confidence.

Just as I'm about to drift back to thoughts of Chloe, another interruption comes. The door to the conference room swings open, and my assistant peeks in.

“Mr. Wright?”

Anxiety grips me. My assistant never interrupts like this. Could something be wrong with my mother?

I stand and quickly walk to the door, instructing my CFO to keep the meeting going without me.

My assistant, Linda—a fashionably dressed woman in her early twenties—closes the conference room door behind me as I step into the hall.

“Ms. Middleton is here,” she informs me, and I keep pace with her as she starts walking briskly down the hall.

“What?” Confusion washes over me. I was expecting Chloe to contact me later about her computer, but we didn’t have any plans to see each other until tonight.

“Ted asked her to come to the office first thing to discuss her legal situation,” Linda explains, “and she arranged to meet the computer forensics expert here too.”

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