Page 7 of Billionaire Book Boyfriend

Then, just as quickly as it began, he pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll call you to set up our next date. It’ll be soon,” he murmurs as he places the book in my hand. The tension between us still hums, unresolved and electric.

I nod, my heart racing, both exhilarated and frustrated. “Okay.”

We stand there lingering in the moment, filled with possibilities neither of us is quite ready to face.

Chapter 5

Emily

Unspoken Truths

Several dates in, and the chemistry between us has only gotten stronger. Drake is everything I didn’t know I was looking for. He’s charming, intelligent, and just... right. But the more he talks about my book, the more I want to tell him who I am. That’s an internal battle that the carefully constructed detachment from my writing world and real life I have built keeps winning.

I want to keep my pen, Eva Steele, separate from who I really am as Emily. But every time Drake mentionsFlirty Dirty Secrets:how much he loves the writing, how clever the twists are, how this or that, the guilt eats at me. If he were anyone else in the world, I wouldn’t care that he doesn’t know I’m the woman behind the thousands of emotions he is explaining from the book. I feel entitled to my privacy as a writer, but with him, that privacy feels like a deception, and I don’t know how to come clean.

Tonight, we’re in his pristine home, sitting at his classically decorated dining table. We are sharing a private dinner cooked by a local celebrity chef, and everything is delicious. We laugh over wine, the conversation flowing effortlessly, as always. He always goes overboard with our dates, and with every passing moment with him, I find myself sinking deeper into the fantasy, willing myself not to think about the truths I keep from the world.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Drake says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he disappears into the other room.

My eyes widen as I become intrigued with what he’s doing. “What kind of surprise?” I call after him.

“I’ll be right back,” he yells, his voice echoing through the cozy space.

As I wait for him to return, I inhale the scent of woodsy potpourri and our gourmet dinner. Before he gets back, my phone buzzes with a flurry of notifications. When my eyes zone in on what the messages are about, my stomach twists as a chill runs through me. The messages are like shards of ice piercing my heart.

“Not now,” I whisper to myself, torn between the intoxicating thrill of dinner with Drake, his surprise, and the reality of what’s unfolding.

Rachel, my agent, sends a new text message.

Rachel: I don’t know how or who put this out there, but we have to spin this ASAP. Call me.

I’m too stunned to type a response. I scroll to my blog site, which is a popular go-to site for readers. I have to see what, if anything, readers are saying on there.

My latest blog post under Eva Steele has just gone viral. Thousands of likes, comments, shares. I swipe through the notifications, dread filling me as I realize what has happened. The blog post isn’t just trending. It’s been picked up by a news outlet, and reputable news sources are ripping the post to part for clues they say somehow verify who I am.

And then, I go to Google and type in my pen name. The first thing that comes up is a headline from the USA Tomorrow website that makes my stomach drop:Flirty Dirty SecretsAuthor Revealed: The Face Behind Eva Steele.

I click the link, and along with that damning caption is my picture plastered all over the screen.

Drake reappears in the dining room, a playful smile on his face as he holds something behind his back. My heart races, wishing that somehow the surprise he’s been teasing could overshadow what I’ve just read online.

Internally, I’m spiraling, and with the way I feel, it has to be all over my face.

As he takes a few steps closer, his phone buzzes loudly on the table, rattling against the surface as notifications flood in. He glances at it, his brow furrowing slightly, but his focus remains on me. “So, I was thinking—”

Before he can finish, the phone buzzes again, a persistent reminder that something urgent is unfolding. He looks down, the warmth of his dark skin suddenly contrasting sharply with the shock that creeps across his expression.

I can see the moment the realization hits him. He hesitates, and slowly, almost reluctantly, he turns the screen toward me, his face paling as he reveals the news. The color drains from his cheeks, and I feel my heart sink in sync with his shock.

“You’re… the author?” His voice was quiet, disbelieving, and a little bit wounded.

My heart sinks. There it is. The moment I’ve dreaded. The secret’s out, and he knows who I am.

"Drake, I can explain..." I start, my voice shaky.

The hurt in his eyes stops me cold.

"You're Eva Steele?" he repeats, disbelief written all over his face. "This whole time… you were her?"

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