Page 61 of Coerced Kiss

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s…” She hesitates. “Very impressive.”

“But?”

She stops dead and faces me squarely. “What I think about your house doesn’t matter, so why do you ask?”

“It matters if you’re to live here.”

“I can’t live here.” Desperation creeps into her tone. “It’s a crazy idea.”

“The police are asking questions about us. They’re suspicions about the authenticity of our relationship.” I lean closer. “We’re going to make this look so real that no one will have a doubt about how serious we are about each other.”

She stares at me with big eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” I lower my voice, letting the warning carry on my words. “But don’t worry. You’ll get lots of practice. You’ll be the perfect doting girlfriend.” My smile is all for show. “Your life depends on how well you play your role.”

The color drains from her cheeks.

“I’m glad you understand,” I say, taking her arm.

She neither resists nor says anything when I lead her to the end of the hallway and finish our tour in the master suite.

Inside, I let her go. “This is our bedroom.”

“Our?” She searches my eyes with a panicked look. “Why must we share a room?”

“A cleaning company comes in once a week. I sometimes have visitors. The police may question them. You’ll sleep in my bed where my girlfriend belongs.” I walk to the dressing room and open the door. “I had a few things delivered while I was gone. I’ll have the rest of your belongings moved tomorrow.”

She approaches cautiously, as if she expects a vile surprise. When she stops on the threshold, her mouth drops open.

“Have a look,” I say. “You can make a list of everything I overlooked. I’ll send for any items you may need in the morning.”

“You got me clothes?” she asks, her gaze moving over the shelves stacked with T-shirts, pants, shoes, and handbags.

“I didn’t get them for anyone else,” I reply with humor.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asks with a hint of defensiveness.

“Nothing.”

She motions at the shelves. “Then why all this?”

“You’ll attend dinners and parties with me. We’ll often be seen together in public. As your boyfriend, it’s normal that I’d get you nice things to wear.”

“Is it?” She squints at me. “Normal?”

“Yes,” I drawl, ignoring her jibe at the absurdity of our situation. “That’s what I’d do for any girlfriend.”

Her mouth tightens. “I assume that means you don’t have one at the moment.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Where would I have been?” Her look is cutting. “Six feet under somewhere on aprettyhill?”

I only smile. It no doubt would’ve complicated matters if I were in a relationship. I would’ve had to make it look as if I were cheating on my partner with Anya—while letting my girlfriend in on the farce—but the mere thought ignites an old, volatile anger.

“Go on,” I say, tilting my head toward the rows of dresses and coats in every color of the rainbow. “If what I chose isn’t to your taste, we can go shopping this weekend.” I can’t help but add, “Like a loving boyfriend and girlfriend.” At the flare of her nostrils, I wave a white flag with a small piece of honesty. “Considering your condition, I thought I’d save you the hours of being on your feet while browsing for clothes.”

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