Page 16 of Fake Fiancé for the Billionaire Rockstar

It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. More so, the fact that everyone in my life has someone to spend it with, while I’m going to be sitting alone in my larger-than-life living room opening presents that I got for myself—doesn’t seem like a blast to me. Which is why I’m dreading my parents showing up. It only proves that the only people I have to spend the holiday with are people who have better things to do on the holiday.

That’s how it is when you’re an only child.

With it being only a few more weeks until Christmas is here, it doesn’t surprise me that traffic is a madhouse right now. Everyone is doing some last-minute shopping, and it shows as a few women scurry across the street, dozens of bags hanging from their arms that flail around as they race to beat the light change.

When the light ahead turns green, the cars in front of us have to wait a few more minutes for the rest of the pedestrians to hurry across the street, and even when they move, it’s only a few inches at a time. Sometimes I wonder why I chose to live in the city, when I could be in a house tucked in the middle of nowhere and nothing but silence outside my windows.

That would be nice.

Except, that’s not my dream.

I might hate the city, but I love the excitement I feel when I’m on stage with the guys. When I look out into a crowd of fans, who are bouncing around to the music, I feel nothing but pride in my chest that I’m part of the reason for that happiness. So, I deal with the city and all the chaos that comes with it.

I’m not sure how long I sit there in my head, but eventually we come to a stop outside Carmen’s complex and she eagerly jumps out—like the idea of being away from me is too good to pass up.

This is supposed to be a date. I should be following her. Ending itproperly.

What does ending it properly even look like?

Before the driver can pull away, I tap his shoulder and hold my finger up as I push the door open. Carmen is already walking through the entrance, waving at the man sitting at a security desk in a small corner, and I hurry my pace to catch up to her. The elevator opens, she steps in without looking back, and I quickly push my hand between the doors before they close.

She stares at me with wide eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

I step into the space with her and smirk. “This is a date. You didn’t think I’d just let you walk back to your apartment alone?”

Carmen’s cheeks heat and she shakes her head. “Fakedate, so it really doesn’t matter.”

“Are you always stubborn?”

“I’m not stubborn,” she mumbles, then glances at the numbers, which are going achingly slow before looking back at me. “Just want some peace and quiet.”

“Ouch.”

“Practice is early tomorrow, and you better be on time,” she says, ignoring my frown. When the doors open and I start to take a step to follow her, she holds a hand up and shakes her head. “I think I’m going to walk down the hall, thanks.”

Gone is the woman who was allowing me to wine and dine her this evening. She’s back to her usual attitude when it comes tome. Although I’d love to end this date, fake or not, with a kiss on the cheek or making sure she’s safely inside, I let her walk away without following her and sigh heavily when the doors shut.

Rejection is something I'm not used to. Why does that make her even more appealing?

I can’t complain about things too much. We learned a bit more about each at dinner — like how Carmen hates when her food touches, or that I’m very particular when it comes to mine wine consumption. I’m pretty sure we sat there for five minutes while I went over each of the wine options with Olive, which I’m sure irritated Carmen more than she let on.

My driver is waiting patiently for me when I exit the complex and slowly eases the door open for me when I step onto the crowded sidewalk. I slip in, my gaze pointing up to the plethora of windows aimed toward the road, and I wonder if Carmen is standing at hers looking down on me and what the hell is going through her mind.

Although it takes a little longer, I finally step through my house just in time for my mother’s name to flash on my phone. I swipe my finger over it, then clear my throat. “Mom, is everything okay?”

“Our vacation got bumped up, so we’ll be there first thing tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?

I thought I’d have more time to get to know Carmen, to ease her into meeting my parents for the first time, and my stomach dips with anxiety. There’s nothing I can do about it now. We’re already in this together.

“I’ve got rehearsals early tomorrow, but I can send my driver to the airport to pick you guys up and meet you at my place once I’m done.”

“That would be wonderful,” my mother says softly. “We can’t wait to see you, Donald.”

Once again, I roll my eyes at the use of my full name and keep my mouth clamped shut about it. “Can’t wait to see you, mom. Me and Carmen just walked through the door, we’re heading to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

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