Page 67 of Forever Fake

“Now I’m even more intrigued. Tell me.”

“This is pathetic, but don’t laugh at me.”

“I promise, I won’t laugh.”

He sighs, running his fingers through already tousled hair. “My mother died when she gave birth to Liam. Before that, sheand I were close, very close. You could even say I was a mama’s boy. Following her death, my father quickly remarried—twice. Both times to scheming gold-diggers who hated me and my little brother. I despised my father for subjecting us to those cruel women. Then along came Yve. She manipulated him into giving her everything in the end.”

My heart aches for him and his terrible childhood.

Without looking at me, he continues like he’s desperate to get his story out. “When I went away to boarding school one year, Yve collected up everything I had left of my mother and hid it. All of the photos, her journals, everything I’d kept to remind me of her was suddenly just gone. Yve and I have been enemies ever since. But that’s what I’m doing this for, to get my mother’s things back.”

“Oh my god, Blake, that’s—it’s?—”

“Pathetic, I know. I’m hardly the sentimental type of man.”

“I was going to say heart-rending.” Looping my arms around his neck, I kiss him, long and deep. The more I discover about this man, the more I want him. Now I’m more inspired than ever to be the best fake wife he’ll ever have. That bitch can’t win.

I pull away from him, putting a slice of distance between us. “Thank you for telling me.”

He warily eyes me. “You’re sworn to secrecy. If that got out, it’d ruin my reputation.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“They better be.” He leans in for another kiss. “Speaking of important things, Friday night we’re having a dinner guest. I’ve already given the menu to Kyla. I want you to be my charming, sweet hostess that night. It’s a work thing, and I really need to win this acquisition. A lot is hanging on it.”

“Like what? Can I know, or is it a secret?”

He adjusts me on his lap and turns off his computer, giving me his full attention. “You should know, so that you understandthe stakes. It’s more of Yve’s bullshit. Our guest is selling a piece of property and he’s deciding between two buyers: Me and Eion Bane.”

“So that’s why you hate Mr. Bane so much,” I muse.

“One of many reasons. Anyway, we need the seller to choose me. Yve is threatening to disinherit Liam if I lose this deal. She’ll take away the position that’s waiting for him and potentially give Titan Enterprises to Lexa, or who knows, whatever she decides on a whim.” He picks up his scotch glass and scowls into it.

“So this dinner is meant to win over the seller? I’m guessing you want him to like us more than he likes Eion Bane, is that right?”

Blake nods. “Exactly.”

“Then let me have at him. I’ll win him for you.”

“I hoped you would say that. Be your radiant self and he’ll fall at your feet, magpie.” He softly kisses my lips. “Let’s get to bed, it’s late.”

Friday evening rolls around and I’m wearing a blue silk dress the color of Blake’s eyes. My blond curls form an artfully messy updo that exposes my neck. Every time I look in the mirror, my ex-father’s words come back to haunt me. “You’re the spitting image of him.”

A rapist.

I shake away the thought. No good will come from dwelling on it. I’d never bring this up with my mother. I wouldn’t do that to her, so I may as well lay it to rest. The man I’m genetically related to is dead anyway.

I’m finishing up my makeup when Blake enters my dressing room. My mouth goes dry as I take him in. That tailored navy suit emphasizes his broad shoulders and trim waist, not to mention his impressive height. His blond hair is perfectly arranged and he smells heavenly.

“This is for you.” He stands behind me, draping a sapphire and diamond necklace across my collar bone, then fastens it at the back of my neck. The jewelry is stunning. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on top of my head.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, feeling like I’m missing something important.

The corners of his mouth quirk. “No occasion. I just saw this in Maçon’s new collection and it struck me as a magpie-worthy piece. It goes with your dress, so why not give it to you now?”

I stare at him in the mirror, once again shocked into silence by how precious he makes me feel. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’m always on his mind, that he spends his time daydreaming about me. But that can’t be true. He’s much too busy. Then he does a thing like this, so innocent, yet heartwarming, and completely out of the blue.

I could fall in love with this man. My heart clenches. Why is that thought so painful?

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