Page 24 of The Fake Date Deal

“My dress for tonight. We’re not late, are we?”

“Not if you hurry. I’ll help you get dressed.”

I laughed. “You do that, and we’ll be here all night.” I ducked into the bedroom and got myself ready, dress, hair, and makeup, accessories. Shoes. I’d forgotten to grab the pair Gabriella had promised to lend me, but I had a white pair that went well with my dress.

“Gorgeous,” breathed Marco, when I stepped out to show him, and that heady thrill coursed through me again. “Come la Cenerentola— ah, Cinderella. Only this time, she’s snubbing the prince.”

“The prince deserves it.” I did a slow turn. Marco came up behind me and set his hands on my hips. He pressed up against me and I leaned back against him, grabbed his lapel and pulled him in for a kiss. He spun me to face him and I bit back a gasp. His dark eyes were burning, his lips slightly parted. He’d never looked sexier. I’d never wanted him more.

“You look good in a suit.” I bit his lip. He kissed me hard, wanting, and growled out his lust. I could feel his desire in his grip at my waist, in his rough lips on mine. The throb of his cock. I pushed him back, moaning, toward the bed. He half-fell, half-sat, and I climbed in his lap. My skirts pooled around us like liquid gold.

“We can’t,” he groaned. “We’ll miss the first act.”

“And show up all rumpled, and they’ll know why we’re late.” I kissed him again, raked my hands through his hair. Leaned in to whisper dirty promises in his ear. Marco thrust up against me, then pushed me away.

“No. No, we can’t. I want you to see this.”

I slid my hand down between us to stroke through his pants. “You mean this?”

“No, you’ve seen that. The opera, it’s—” He hissed through his teeth. “Stop it. You’ll break me. My willpower, I…”

I stole one more kiss and slid off his lap, my whole body aching for more. For his touch.

“It’s worth it,” he said.

“What, the opera?”

“Don Giovanni.” He smoothed out my skirts. “It’s the first one I went to, my first opera. I went with my father when I was eight. I thought I’d be bored — I tried to bring my DS. But then it started, and you’ll see for yourself. There’s this crudeness about it, this fury, this fire. Like when I’m racing. Like when I make love. You think of Mozart, you think powdered wigs. You picture that movie, ah, Amadeus. But he was an animal. He knew from passion. So I want you to see this. To see it with me.”

I stared at him, breathless, this new side of Marco. I hadn’t imagined him a fan of the arts, much less so ardent. So frank in his fandom.

“Let’s go, then,” I said, and I took his hand.

“Wait just a second.” He thumbed at my mouth where he’d smudged my lipstick. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

We rode down in the elevator hand in hand, and floated across the lobby and down the front steps. It actually surprised me when the flashbulbs went off, photographers jostling for the best shot. I’d forgotten I’d summoned them, forgotten to pose, and I straightened up quickly and showed them my teeth. Marco pulled me to him and we smiled cheek to cheek. I tilted my chin up to catch my good angles… but for a second there, they’d caught me flatfooted.

Maybe Gabriella wasn’t wrong.

Maybe I was catching feelings.

CHAPTER 10

MARCO

Reality cut in on my dance with Eve — three days in a row of actual work.

Monday was a gym day, full-on with my trainer, going hard on endurance and strength and reflexes. Then after that was a fan meet-and-greet — an hour’s Q&A, then an hour for selfies. That second hour ran into two, and when I waved for my agent to rescue me, he pretended not to see.

“It’s all good,” he said later, over a working dinner. “The happier your fans are, the more merch they buy.”

“And the more colds I get. You can’t let them in coughing.”

“Well, that’s on the venue. I don’t deal with that.”

I bit back a smart remark, not wanting to argue. I just wanted to finish and get back to Eve, but by the time I broke loose she was curled up snoozing. Drained from my day, I lay down beside her, and she cuddled up to me and nuzzled into my chest.

Tuesday was a travel day, back to France. I was driving back, so I left early, with plans Eve would join me for a late lunch. But I got a text from my agent, telling me he’d booked me a shoot, some fashion spread for one of my sponsors. I barely had time to shower and get changed, then I was off again, out to the set.

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