Page 9 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fake Girlfriend

He raised an eyebrow. "What, you thought I lived on takeout?"

"Not exactly," I replied. "More like personal chefs who served you caviar and lobster on silver trays."

Denver barked out a laugh and took a sip of his wine. "You're a fashion designer. I figured your talents were limited to fabric and thread, not kitchen knives."

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. "Well, believe it or not, I can multitask. Cooking helps me unwind. It's a lot like designing, putting together a mix of ingredients to create something new."

He tilted his head, studying me with those piercing blue eyes. "Interesting. I guess we're more alike than I thought."

I snorted and flaked off a piece of halibut with my fork. "Don't push it, Denver. We're nothing alike."

"You keep telling yourself that," he said, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you're underestimating how much we have in common."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. "Whatever you say, boss."

The nickname slipped out before I could stop it, and Denver's smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the soft light. "I like it when you call me that."

"Don't get used to it," I muttered, shoving a bite of food into my mouth to avoid saying anything else stupid, though my heated cheeks gave away my embarrassment.

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. All of the awkward tension that was there earlier faded away with each passing moment. It was strange, how easily we fell into this rhythm after less than twenty-four hours of living together.

"So," he said, breaking the silence again. "You said you'd show me your designs after dinner. Still up for it?"

I hesitated, surprised he'd remembered. "Yeah, sure. But fair warning, they're not finished. And they're different from what XMGH usually does."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Good. Different is what we need. This new American line has to stand out. It's our chance to shake things up."

I nodded, feeling a spark of excitement despite myself. "Alright. Let's do it."

We cleared the table together, the silence between us easy now, almost companionable. When we were done, I led him to the living room where I'd spread out my sketches earlier.

They were scattered across the coffee table, each one a bold, daring vision that I'd poured my heart into.

Denver stood beside me, his presence both comforting and unnerving as he studied the sketches. His eyes moved methodically over each design, his expression unreadable.

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth as I waited for his reaction. This was the first time I'd shown my work to anyone outside of Margot and my social media following. The vulnerability of it made my stomach clench.

"These are incredible," he said finally, his voice low and sincere. He picked up one of the sketches, a gown with large angular shoulder pads and intricate lace flowing down to a dramatic train. "It's bold but delicate at the same time."

I nodded. "That's the effect I was going for. A lot of people think it's a design mistake rather than a deliberate choice."

He glanced at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm not just a grumpy billionaire, Sasha. I know art when I see it. And this? This is art."

My cheeks warmed at the compliment, and I looked away, suddenly self-conscious. "Thanks. I've been working on these for a while. They're not exactly what XMGH is known for, though."

"Not yet," he said. "That's why they're perfect. XMGH needs to evolve." He gestured to the table. "And this is the future. It's fresh and daring."

I felt a lump form in my throat, his words hitting me harder than I expected. For so long, I'd felt like an outsider in the fashion world, like my ideas were too unconventional. But hearing Denver of all people validate my work meant more to me than I wanted to admit.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He set the sketch down on the table. Our hands brushed and a flash of heat ran through my body. His presence was overwhelmingly close and I was far too aware of every breath he took. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just stating the obvious. You're talented, Sasha. And I'm not just saying that because you're my fake girlfriend."

I laughed. "Good to know."

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "But since you are my fake girlfriend, I think it's only fair that I get to see these designs come to life. How about we make this the centerpiece of the new American line?"

My heart skipped a beat. I gaped at him, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. "You're serious about this?"

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