Page 5 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

We board, and a crew member escorts us to our suite. Dana’s sharp intake of breath when she sees the room almost makes me laugh—polished wood floors, a king-sized bed with crisp white linens, and a private balcony overlooking the water.Harris knows how to impress.

“There’s only one bed,” she notes, tone flat.

I set her suitcase down. “Part of the act.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re enjoying this too much, Mr. Clarke.”

The formality makes me pause. “You realize you can’t call me that this weekend, right?” I straighten, crossing my arms over my chest. “Unless you want Harris thinking this is some kind of workplace harassment situation.”

A flash of something crosses her face—annoyance? Amusement? “Fine.Nathan.”

The way she says my name shouldn’t affect me like it does.

“What’s your plan here?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Charm Harris with your wit and good looks while I stand by and smile?”

“Something like that,” I reply, trying to make it sound like I’m weighing options. “Except you’ll be doing more than smiling. Harris and his wife value strong partnerships. I need you to be yourself—just with a little extra affection for me.”

A grin spreads across my lips, and I watch as her gaze flicks down to them.

“Affection,” she repeats, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Think you can handle that?”

She steps closer, her gaze locking with mine, and suddenly the room feels too small. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she murmurs, “I’m here because you asked me to be. But if you push me too far, I’ll walk. And I don’t care if it costs you this deal.”

Her words hit like the bell in a boxing match, and damn if I don’t respect her more for it. “Noted,” I respond.

She steps back, giving me one last look before turning toward her suitcase. “Good. Now get out so I can unpack.”

I leave the room, my pulse racing.

This weekend is going to be interesting.

Chapter Three

DANA - PLAYING PRETEND

Morning sun streams through the yacht’s dining room windows as I sit across from Wallace Harris and his wife, Eleanor. Nathan’s hand rests on my knee under the table, a gesture that feels both possessive and reassuring.Also unnecessary. They can’t see this.

“So, how did you two meet?” Eleanor probes, cradling her face in her hands, her elbows supporting them against the table.

I freeze, but Nathan’s hand slides to mine under the table.

“Dana actually turned me down for a promotion,” he replies, surprising me. “Said she wouldn’t take a job she hadn’t earned.”

I catch his strategy—he’s using a real memory, but twisting it just enough to fit the narrative. I glance over at him, trying to make it look like admiration, as I continue the story. “Nathan spent the next three months trying to prove I had.”

“Office romance?” Eleanor’s smile widens. “How scandalous.”

“Not at first,” Nathan cuts in, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. “I fought it for a long time—professional boundaries and all that. But Dana…” he turns to me, his expression softening. “She’s impossible to resist.”

My heart stutters.He’s good at this. Too good.

“And now?” Harris questions, his shrewd gaze flitting between us.

“Now, I can’t imagine my life without her,” Nathan states simply. The conviction in his voice makes my stomach flip.

After smiling politely through breakfast, I escape to the balcony, needing air. I grip the railing, white-knuckling my way through the waves of nausea that rock with the boat. The waters of Sag Harbor stretch before me, sunlight glinting off the gentle waves. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of salt instead of city smog.

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