Page 21 of Holiday Hoax

An hour later, and I’ve purchased four pieces of art from the same artist. Three paintings and one mixed media sculpture, all of which are perfect for the blank spaces in my penthouse. We hammered out the delivery and installation date, which Mia will oversee on my behalf as I’ll be out of town.

We decided to walk to a pub down the street, but I notice that she’s limping the more she tries to keep up with me.

“Why are you limping?” I ask, slowing my pace.

“I bought these shoes online, and they’re really stiff on my heels. I’m definitely going to have blisters.”

I reach inside my jacket to pull out my phone and call my driver.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Calling my driver.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just another block.”

“Walking with blisters is ridiculous when I can have a car here in under two minutes.”

“I can deal with the pain. I can’t deal with the hunger.” She tugs on my arm, sliding hers through mine to pull me along. “I want a big, juicy burger and greasy fries.”

When was the last time I went out with a woman who ordered that? Probably never. It’s refreshing to watch as she digs into the food without a worry in the world for what I’m thinking. Honestly, it’s kind of hot to watch.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She dabs at her mouth with the paper napkin.

“You just look beautiful.”

A laugh burst free from her body. “Calm down. No one is here to put on a show for.”

“I meant that.”

She blushes. “Thank you. Here I was thinking you were just amazed by my ability to down a burger and fries.”

“Honestly that, too.” We both share a laugh at that. “I’m planning on throwing a dinner party at my penthouse once all the art is installed. I’ll invite all the board members.”

It’ll be while my parents are traveling; otherwise, they’d expect to be invited. I don’t want to subject Mia to my mother’s meddling. Especially not when Mom has a habit of being intentionally rude to people she doesn’t think are good enough for her children. If Nico wasn’t good enough for Stella, I’m sure she’d think the same of Mia.

The more time I spend with Mia, though, the more I think there could be something here. Something beyond the fake dating we’re doing. That kiss felt fucking real. Surely, she felt it, too.

As we finish dinner, I text my driver our location to come pick us up. She winces as she stands, gingerly taking each step in measured strides. I glance down as she steps around a table in front of me and frown at the sight of her bloodied heels.

“Give me your feet,” I command as soon as we’re seated inside the car.

“What?”

“Your feet.” I pat my lap. “Now.”

“Why?” She eyes me suspiciously.

We only have limited time in the car now that traffic has died down for the evening. I instructed the driver to take us the long way to her apartment, but it won’t be enough time. So I reach down and pick up her ankles, gently setting her feet in my lap before removing the damn shoes from her feet myself.

Her eyes are as round as they were following our kiss earlier. “You’re really taking all the liberties you want with me today, aren’t you?”

If only she knew some of the thoughts I’ve been having. Instead of replying I press my thumb to the arch of her foot and begin to massage it. Her body sags as she groans. She situates herself sideways in the seat and rests her temple against the headrest.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I ask as I continue to rub the aches away.

“You have no idea. I used to have a massager that I’d slide my feet into at night after work, but it broke six months ago, and I haven’t been able to replace it.” She moans as I apply deep pressure. “But you’re so much better than a massager.”

I know she’s talking about feet, I do. But my mind travels to different places. Sexier places.

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