Page 25 of Fake Fiancé for the Billionaire Rockstar

Don’t be an idiot,I say to myself,it’s just the hot chocolate.

But even as I try to convince myself, I know it’s a lie. This feeling, this warmth, it’s all Donny. And that terrifies me more than any business challenge I’ve ever faced.

“Our chariot awaits,” Donny says, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nods toward the approaching SUV. As the driver pulls up, Donny steps forward, opening the door with a flourish. “After you, Sunshine.” His voice is low, almost intimate, and I feel my cheeks heat despite the cold.

I ignore the nickname, even though it’s starting to wear on me, and slip into the back seat. At least he’s taking me home now, where I can hopefully get the sensation of his body close to mine out of my damn head.

Donny leans forward when he gets inside, telling the driver where to go next, but I don’t pay them any attention as I stare out at the busy streets ahead of us. Before today, it had been years since the last time I felt free on the ice, and it was like being back in that same space again. Like no time had passed at all.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Donny asks.

“Nothing really. We have some things to discuss, don’t we?”

He frowns and nods curtly. Once again, I have the strange sense that he doesn’t want our charade to end, but I push the thought back and clear my throat. I keep my tone casual, but it’s forced. "So, how do you want to play this? Who’s going to be the bad guy in the situation?" As I say the words, my chest tightens.

Why does the idea of ending this—of going back to normal—leave a hollow ache behind?

There’s no logical reason either of us would split after just announcing an engagement unless someone did something terribly wrong. It’s just a matter of who that wrongdoing is going to fall on.

Donny shifts in his seat, eyes flicking between the window and the back of the driver’s head. His hand still resting on my thigh as if he’s forgotten it’s there. I should push it away, create some distance before things spiral further, but I don’t. Instead, I wait, feeling the weight of what neither of us is saying.

Finally, he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ll take the heat," he says quietly, and though it’s the practical choice, the words still carry a sting.

“Cheating bastard or past baggage?” I ask, arching a brow.

I’m their manager, and I think it would be a lot easier to spin the story if it were baggage from his past, but I’m leaving the choice up to him.

Before he can answer, the SUV comes to a stop at the edge of the bridge leaving the city, and I straighten my posture with a frown. “Where the hell are we going?”

Donny shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, Sunshine.”

“Seriously,” I grumble. “I need to get back to my place. There’s a lot that still needs to be handled for the concert.”

He rolls his eyes and glances briefly at me, looking bored. “One day away from work isn’t going to kill you.”

I clench my fist at my sides and lean forward, desperately trying to get the driver to turn around, but he barely bats an eyelash in my direction. Donny is the pilot of this thing, which means I’m stuck with him as long as he damn well pleases.

Unless…

Just as my fingers brush the door handle, Donny’s hand lands on my thigh. The touch is gentle, but it might as well be a bolt of lightning for how it freezes me in place.

He gives a soft squeeze, and I swear I can feel the heat of his palm through my jeans. “Calm down. It’s only a little further, and you’ll be back home in no time.”

“I never agreed to this.”

He shrugs. “You never disagreed either.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I said no when you first showed up at my apartment.”

His lip twitches with a smile, and he sighs heavily. “You’re right, but after this, you won’t have to worry about me dropping in unannounced and stealing you away.”

Reluctantly, I drop my hand from the handle and glare at the traffic ahead as we slowly ease forward. I silently stew for the rest of the ride until we pull into a quaint, snow-dusted town on the city’s outskirts, where twinkling fairy lights cascade from every rooftop and storefront window.

The streets are lined with bustling holiday markets, the scent of pine and cinnamon hanging in the crisp air. Children dart through the cobblestone streets, their laughter blending with the distant sound of carolers singing. It feels like stepping into a Christmas postcard, and despite myself, I can’t help but be charmed.

“What is this place?”

Donny’s frame brushes against mine as he mimics my movements, and he smiles thoughtfully. “Thought we could have the full Christmas experience.”

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