Page 17 of Fake Fiancé for the Billionaire Rockstar

As soon as I hang up with her, I find Carmen’s contact and send a quick text to let her know there’s been a change.

Donny: Change of plans, Sunshine. My folks are coming early. We will meet them tomorrow night.

Carmen: Tomorrow night? Well, that’s sooner than expected! Do I need to mentally prepare for any surprises?

Donny: I haven't thought about where we should eat, yet.

Carmen: That's easy. I'll make dinner. It'll be easier that way.

Donny: Wow! I didn't expect that. Thank you!

I wait for another message to come through, but it stays silent, and I run a hand through my hair before heading up the winding staircase to the second floor.

Something tells me tomorrow isn’t going to go as well as I have planned. As I climb the stairs, the weight of tomorrow's meeting settles on my shoulders. I'm caught between the excitement of seeing my parents and the fear of our charade falling apart. More than that, I'm grappling with the unsettling realization that I like this charade.

The thought of telling Carmen sends a jolt of anxiety through me. How can I express these feelings without jeopardizing this delicate bond we've forged? The stakes have never felt higher, and I've never had more to lose.

***

As we step into the elevator from the lobby, the silence between us feels heavy. Carmen presses her lips together, clearly trying to stay calm. “That was... unexpected today,” she says quietly, hervoice a little tense. "I hope it doesn’t mess up our schedule too much."

I give her hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to ease her nerves. "We’ll be fine. My folks just want to see us sooner, that’s all."

The soft hum of the elevator fills the space as we ride up. I can see the tension in her shoulders, but I don’t say anything. She’s doing her best to handle the situation, and I admire that about her.

When the elevator dings and the doors open to my penthouse, my mother’s voice breaks the silence. “Donald!”

Carmen stiffens next to me. She takes a deep breath, forcing a smile, but it’s not her usual one—it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I lean in and whisper, “We’ve got this,” before stepping forward to open the door, ready to face whatever comes next.

I can feel the nervousness radiating off Carmen. Subtle discomfort is written all over her face. I reach out and gently take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. We’re supposed to look like a happily engaged couple, and right now, we’re falling a bit short.

“Mom,” I greet, giving her a quick hug. I nod to my father standing beside her, then turn to Carmen with what I hope is a loving smile. “This is my fiancée, Carmen.”

My mother looks her up and down, then reaches out and pulls my fake fiancée into a hug that catches Carmen off-guard.She looks at me over my mother’s shoulder, eyebrow rising in question, and I shrug.

My mother’s face lights up with a warm smile. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Carmen,” she says, her voice filled with genuine delight. “Donny’s been so secretive about you. I was starting to wonder if he’d made you up!”

Carmen’s cheeks heat and the stiffness starts to alleviate. “Nope, just enjoying each other while it lasts. You know how things are in his world.”

“And what is it you do?”

“I’m the band’s manager,” she says and smiles proudly.

Carmen loves her work and enjoys talking about it more than anything else, but I’m hoping there won’t be much work to talk.

“We should get started,” I say to Carmen.

Unfortunately, Carmen insisted that we should make dinner ourselves with my mother’s arrival and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no. My mother looks between the two of us curiously when Carmen walks up to me, but doesn’t relax into my hold, and my gut tightens at the idea of her catching on.

“Let’s get started then,” Carmen says, then she squares her shoulders and lifts up on her toes to press a quick kiss to my mouth. She waves her hand into the living room and smiles atmy parents. “Please, make yourselves comfortable while I get everything started.”

It was just a peck, barely a kiss at all. So why are my lips still tingling? I can’t stop replaying the moment—the soft press of her mouth, the faint scent of her perfume. God, I want to do it again. Properly this time.

I follow Carmen to the kitchen, watching as she lays out ingredients. She’s pointedly not looking at me, a faint blush still staining her cheeks. Suddenly, an image flashes through my mind—Carmen, here in my kitchen, cooking dinner. But not for my parents or our charade. Just for us.

I walk up behind her, stopping just shy of pressing myself against her back. The air between us is charged, the memory of that kiss still fresh, lingering like smoke in the room. My gaze drops to the back of her neck, the soft tendrils of hair that have slipped free. I want to touch her, just to feel her skin under my fingertips.

“Need any help?” My voice comes out lower than I expected. She flinches slightly, but she doesn’t move away, her hands stilling over the cutting board.

---