Page 6 of Borrowed Bride

“It does.”

“I don’t believe you.” She turns away from me, admiring herself in the mirror.

The dress is backless. The beautiful blue fabric hugs her body and creates a deep V-shape right at the base of her spine. I stare at the expanse of visible bare skin, and my fingertips tingle with a sudden urge to touch.

“You tricked me with a new card,” Gianna continues, then she turns back to me. “Admit it.”

“Is it a trick if you’re the one that stole it in the first place?” I shoot the assistant a glare and she abandons her job and flees from the room. “You forget that you stole from me.Youare the criminal. I gave you an out. Maybe you just didn’t want it enough.”

I walk slowly toward the stage.

Gianna’s chest lifts and the hollow of her neck deepens. “Giving me a card with no limit sets me up for failure.”

“It has a limit.” I tap my temple with two fingers. “Up here. You can’t fault me for knowing how to take care of myself.”

Gianna swallows a soft, audible gulp as I reach the stage. “So you are going to kill me.”

“No,” I reply. “Not while you’re wearing that dress. Take it off.”

Her eyes narrow and I tense slightly, waiting for her reaction.

Will she run? Will she fight? Will she try and talk her way out of it?

Gianna does neither.

She reaches for the halter strap of her dress and unclasps it. When the dress falls from her body, it runs down her like water and pools around her ankle like a droplet of moonlight. She stands there in her underwear and her lips apart.

Before she can speak, I grasp the side of her neck and jerk her toward me. Our mouths collide in a sudden, powerful kiss that sends a jolt of yearning through my entire body. Her hands land against my chest, bracing herself against me. When her fingertips curl and press into my shirt, I prepare for a bite of teeth or something more, but there’s nothing.

Continuing to surprise me, Gianna kisses me back. My world narrows to the soft press of her lips as they weave against my own, following my path in the kiss. She smells faintly of vanilla and rainwater, and her skin is hot beneath my palm. The contact is almost too much, as if an electrical charge simmers beneath her skin, searing into my hand.

When I pull back, Gianna pants, and her warm breath ghosts over my cheek.

“Perfect.” I step back. She will be more than satisfactory for what I need. “You almost made me believe you could stand to kiss me. Good. Because this is just the beginning of how you’re going to pretend to be my wife.”

3

GIANNA

His wife?

I should say no. Who the hell demands that kind of thing from a stranger?

He stands there with his broad shoulders and his stupid, handsome face, leaving my lips tingling from the sheer pressure of the kiss, and then tells me I will be his wife.

Who the hell is this guy? With his gaggle of armed men standing in each corner of the dressing room and the waiting room beyond the curtains, a limitless card, and such an inflated ego that he thinks he can snatch a woman from the street?

Sure, I stole from him. I started this, but most people called the cops. This whole song and dance are so out of my wheelhouse that I have no idea how to navigate it.

And yet, there’s a bubble of excitement fizzing away just beneath my ribs. It’s exciting in an alarming way. A challenge I’ve never navigated before and, perhaps, an opportunity. This man is clearly rich and very powerful.

Maybe, just maybe, I can play him.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve faked my way into a man’s life to get what I needed. If I treat him like a mark, just like all ofthe others, then maybe I can turn this to my advantage. At least until I find a window to escape.

Hopefully, with a bunch of money to boot.

My pulse thrums like a drum beneath my skin and I look up into his icy gaze. Each time we lock eyes, I feel utterly pinned. It’s like I’ve lost all control of my body. It’s as thrilling as it is intimidating but I know how to work men. At their core, they’re all the same, and this guy clearly has a raging boner for control.

---