Page 45 of Forever Fake

As wrong as it may be, Ginevra’s mine, and I want all of her, even her childhood dreams, in my home.

CHAPTER 20

Ginevra

Champagne bubbles burst in my mouth. I’m wearing a sleek, couture bridesmaid dress that Arianna chose for her wedding. She and Dimitri seem so happy together, obsessed with each other, and I envy them. She deserves this hard won happily ever after with her husband.

That’s one of the reasons I’ve been putting off telling my family about Blake. I don’t want to overshadow my sister’s happy day with my own drama. Arianna deserves the perfect wedding—which she had earlier—and now the most wonderful reception to celebrate with her family and friends.

Beside me, my cousin Ravenna’s telling Ilaria some funny story. I giggle along with them, a bit too loudly, and they both give me questioning looks. I wave them off and grab another glass of bubbly from a passing server. I plan to drink my weight of this stuff before the evening’s through. Blake and his judgmental attitude can go to hell.

The hairs on the nape of my neck rise as awareness zips across my skin. I turn to find Blake’s gaze boring into me and quickly glance away. I told him to give me some space tonight since I haven’t told my sisters about us yet. I just need a littlemore time. Tonight’s not the night. Tomorrow. I’ll tell them tomorrow.

He’s not happy about that.

He’s also not happy about the fact that I’m not wearing my engagement ring tonight. It’s far too conspicuous. That huge diamond would only encourage questions.

Honestly though, the man’s been driving me crazy all week. First he fingers me by the pool while I suck him off, then he shoves me away and accuses me of being drunk—when I wasn’t. That hurt. Not to mention how embarrassed I felt.

Then he followed me to my storage unit, causing me further humiliation. The next day all of my things were moved from storage into the guest room across the hall from our bedroom. Which is the sweetest damn thing he could have done. But I’m getting whiplash from his hot and cold behavior. It’s beginning to remind me of my ex. So his sweet, thoughtful actions are tainted by my past experiences with men.

Blake never apologized for tossing me aside after he was done with me at the pool. So I haven’t forgiven him.

He can’t just hurt me like that, make me feel used—and accuse me of being a liar—and then do some grand gesture and think everything is forgiven. It’s not okay.

Most of all, I hate how my feelings are getting all tangled up in him. This is supposed to befake, so why are my feelings so real?

Our attraction to each other is undeniable, so why can’t we just have some fun together? I wish the rules and boundaries between us were more defined. Instead, I feel like I’m trying to figure this fake relationship out as we go along, and every time I turn around he has some new rule to follow, or a new condition he’s put in place. At the same time, the lines blur and we keep pushing the boundaries we both agreed to.

What I’m purposely avoiding thinking about right now is how he spanked me and I liked it. How the pain turned me on.

I don’t like pain.

That’s not me.

I’m so confused.

“Would you like to dance?” a slightly Russian-accented voice speaks beside me. I turn, coming face-to-face with a handsome young man. Given his accent, my guess is he’s part of Dimitri’s bratva. It would be rude to turn him down.

“Sure. I’d love to.” I drop my champagne flute on a tray and follow him onto the dance floor. The song’s a fun, poppy, upbeat number. As I sway my hips, that sensation of being watched intensifies ten-fold. Turning my head, I find Blake’s gaze laser focused on me. His scowl’s so powerful it could make grass wither and die.

I try to ignore him and have fun with my dance partner. He’s not the boss of me. But it’s nearly impossible to ignore a man like Blake Baron. Even from across the room his presence demands my attention.

I glance at him again and his eyes narrow. That’s the only warning I get before he charges toward me and takes me by the arm. The Russian boy immediately backs off, and I don’t blame him, Blake’s on the warpath.

He hauls me through the crowded room, then climbs the steps to the stage, interrupting my sister’s wedding reception. All eyes are on us. A lead weight drops in my stomach as embarrassment colors my cheeks.

Oh God, what is he going to do?

“Sorry to interrupt,” Blake says in a calm tone, sounding anything but apologetic. “We have an announcement on this happy occasion.” He hauls me closer to him. “Let me introduce you to my future wife. Ginevra Pontrelli.”

Instead of applause, we’re met with stunned silence. Horror rips through me, and I know the emotion’s written all over my face. He knows I’m not ready for this yet. How dare he force this on me?

Blake’s hand curls around the back of my neck and his mouth captures mine. His kiss is possessive, claiming, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that we’re together. I’m frozen, my brain scrambled by his touch. When he finally ends the kiss, I draw in a ragged breath and try to get my bearings.

From his trousers pocket he pulls out my diamond engagement ring. “You forgot this at home, so I brought it for you.” Taking my hand in his, he slowly slips the ring onto my finger. A predatory, possessive smile curves his lips, and the world around me tilts.

This game we’re playing just got real. There’s no going back now. I’m tied to this man until he gets what he wants, until our agreement is fulfilled, and he finally decides to toss me away.

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