Page 12 of Faking With Mr. Steele

This isn’t real, so I point to a platinum band with an oval diamond. It’s the smallest of the three, but still heavy and cumbersome when I try it on. I’ll need to cart my hand around in a wheelbarrow.

“We’ll take it,” Graham says, appreciating the ring on my finger.

I smile, trying my best to gush like the bride to be, but then another ring catches my eye. One not from the exclusive vault collection. It’s different, with a rose gold band and vintage vibe, and judging by its positioning in the case, probably much less expensive.

“May I see this one?” I just want to see it closer. It’s like the ring is calling my name. It’s probably my grandmother’s ghost, andwhen I slip it on, her face will appear and ask me what the hell I’m doing.

Charles frowns, but obliges anyway. “This is a James Allen natural diamond ring.”

Thankfully, grandma Lila does not appear as I study the facets and fall in love with its character. When I get engaged for real, this is the one. I remove the gaudy spectacle on my left finger, and slide this one home. And that’s exactly how it feels, like home on my finger.

Graham takes my hand, sending little goosebumps flaring across my skin. “This ring was made for your finger.”

“It’s...wow.” I can’t find the words to finish my thought.

“We’ll take the vintage style one instead,” Graham informs Charles.

“Really? But the other is premium.”

“What my baby wants, my baby gets.”

His words send a ripple of lust through my veins. It’s silly, I know, and this is all pretend, but this desire is also what I want when I’m for real engaged. I look up at Graham. “It’s really ok,” I say. I don’t want to ruin the facade before it even begins.

He leans down and whispers against my ear for only me to hear. “Every ring in this shop is an acceptable ring my mother would believe.”

I nod, and my heart kind of has its own hesitations, but I throw caution to the wind, and take the offer. Twenty minutes later, it’s official: we’re fake engaged.

After we finish with the ring, and buy me some new clothes for my stay as his fiancée, we hop into the SUV and head off toward his mother’s. I flip the radio to a station playing “Silent Night.”

He switches the station to another.

“Not even Silent Night?” I balk.

“No.”

“Graham the Grump. No wait, Graham the Grinch. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t.”

The authority he says it with, and the hooded gaze he gives me, causes me to shift in my seat, envisioning a spanking from him. I think I’d like that. Nothing too much, I’m not in to whips and chains, just a hard spank, while he calls me baby. God, I have to stop this. No sex. This is business. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?” I ask to swipe the smut from my mind.

“Because, listen…,” he turns the radio off, “it’s just not enjoyable.”

“I think you’re just not doing it right.”

He glances over to me with a wicked glint in his eye. “There’s a wrong way to do it?”

His words drip with sexual innuendo. “I didn’t mean that.” Judging by my epic orgasm, we both know he knows exactly what he’s doing in that department.

“I should probably warn you, my mother is kind of old school.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s going to assume we haven’t had sex.”

“Ah, I see.” I can play angel around his mother. Heck, I can be an angel and wear wings around his mother.

I don’t really understand all of this, though. He’s a grown man, a very sexy grown man. He’s successful and fucks like a stallion. So, I don’t see why he needs to pretend that he’s engaged. He could probably have a real fiancée in the blink of an eye.

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