Page 15 of Fake Fiancé for the Billionaire Rockstar

My heart races, and I struggle to find my voice. "Some mysteries are worth taking time to solve," I breathe, surprised by my own boldness.

Donny pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. In their depths, I see a tumult of emotions – desire, tenderness, and something deeper that makes my heart ache with longing. For a heartbeat, I think he might close the distance between us, claim my lips with his own. But he steps back, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You captivate me, Sunshine," he says, his voice a gentle caress filled with genuine affection. The pet name, once teasing, now feels like a cherished endearment, wrapping around my heart and tugging at something deep within me.

6

Donny

The night air iscrisp as we step out of the restaurant. Carmen walks beside me, unusually quiet, her gaze fixed on the pavement. Her hands fidget nervously, a stark contrast to her usual composed demeanor. As we reach the curb, I gently guide her closer, my hand at the small of her back. The warmth of her body against mine sends an electric jolt through me, a reminder of how much things have changed between us.

“Not a good first date, Sunshine?” I wink, trying to ignore how right it feels to have her near.

She stiffens, taking a small step back. The loss of contact is immediate and disappointing. “That’s not it,” she murmurs, a hint of something–regret?–in her voice.

All evening, I couldn’t help but notice Carmen’s reactions to Olive. Every time Olive approached, fingers trailing over my shoulder, flashing that flirtatious smile, Carmen’s jaw would clench, her eyes flashing with... was it jealousy?

Olive and I had a casual thing years ago, but it’s long over. Olive's flirting brings back memories of late nights and shared laughter, but it feels hollow now. My bandmates had warned me about mixing business with pleasure, their own relationships with their partners a testament to how complicated things could get.

Yet here I am, pretending to be engaged to our manager, and wishing it was real. If I’d known Olivia worked at La Belle’s, I would’ve chosen another place. But seeing Carmen’s barely concealed irritation? That was unexpectedly entertaining.

I find myself wishing her jealousy was real, not just part of our act.

“Tell me about your family,” I say while we wait for my driver to pull up to the curb.

Carmen shifts, suddenly tense. “What about them?”

“Are you close?” I press, genuinely curious.

She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “Closer than most, I guess.”

“Siblings?”

“Three brothers, two younger sisters.” Her answers are clipped, guarded.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Wow, thanks for the detailed family history.”

Her eyes snap to mine, a mix of irritation and something softer. “We’re only doing this for another day or two. Why does my family matter to you?”

I want to say it matters because she matters, but I swallow the words. This isn’t real, I remind myself. The memory of how this all started flashes through my mind. My mother's incessant pestering about settling down, Carmen's reluctant agreement to help, the rush of excitement when she said yes.

We had agreed just long enough to get my parents off my back. But now, with every passing moment, the line between fake and real blurs a little more.

Before I can say anything else, my driver pulls in front of us, and Carmen immediately climbs into the back seat without looking back at me. I shove my hands deep into my pockets, then follow her and slip into the seat. She’s sitting as far away from me as she can, and it takes everything inside of me not to pull her closer.

Sure, Carmen is attractive, but I’ve never felt such a need to have her near like I do right now.

Instead of doing something I’m sure I’ll regret, I turn my attention out the window and watch as the Christmas decorations lining the streets pass us by. While my bandmates are enjoying the holidays with their new families, I’m wishing it would pass so I don’t have to hear another Christmas song.

Every store I go into, ever since Halloween ended, it’s all about Santa Claus and his damn reindeer. As if to confirm my thoughts, the song changes on the radio and I hear the jingling of bells before anyone even starts singing.

I groan loudly and throw my head back on the leather seat.

“Didn’t take you for a Scrooge,” Carmen says next to me.

“I’m not,” I grumble.

“Your frown says otherwise.”

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