Page 7 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fake Girlfriend

I lay down and closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I tried to quiet my mind, but it was no use. She was all around me. She was the only thing I could think of. Even though this was supposed to be an act, having her in the next room, sleeping so close to me, made it feel real. Sasha Bennett was burrowing her way under my skin bit by bit and a part of me wasn't sure if I wanted to stop her.

Chapter 4

SASHA

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the open window, a sound so foreign to me that it took me a moment to remember where I was. In my old apartment, my morning call came in the form of police sirens or the sound of shattering glass.

Denver's penthouse was in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods surrounding Huntington Harbor. Surrounded by trees in the hills, and sprawling estates, we were far from the noise and pollution of the city. The bed was enormous, the sheets impossibly soft, and for a moment, I allowed myself to sink into the luxury of it all. Then reality came crashing back.

I was living with Denver Roberts. The man who had turned my life upside down in a matter of days. The man who was now, technically, my fake boyfriend. The thought made my stomach churn. I sat up, running a hand through my tangled hair, and glanced around the room. My suitcase was still half-packed with my clothes spilling out onto the floor. I hadn't bothered to unpack last night, too overwhelmed by the sudden changes in my life.

I slipped out of bed and padded to the attached bathroom. With quick steps, I half-skipped and half-tiptoed my way across the room. The tile floor was freezing against my bare feet, and I made a note to buy some slippers if I was going to be living here for the next six months. Spotless glass and white marble surrounded me in the bathroom which was as big as my apartment bedroom. The sink and counters were made of a single piece of unblemished marble, and the walk-in shower which was big enough for a football team was surrounded by gleaming glass walls. Next to the shower was a sleek oval bathtub that looked like something out of an alien spaceship.

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that had woken me. The stalker's face had been blurred, but his voice had been clear as he whispered threats that made my blood run cold.

By the time I finished my morning ritual, I heard the faint sound of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday. As I got dressed, I hesitated, unsure if I was ready to face Denver. But my stomach made the final decision. The smell of coffee and something sweet wafting through the air was too tempting to resist.

I found him in the kitchen, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. To my surprise, there wasn't a personal chef at the stove like I had expected a CEO of his wealth to have. He was there, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease that surprised me. The sight was so domestic, so unlike the image of the grumpy billionaire I had in my head, that I couldn't help but stare.

"Morning," he said without looking up. "I hope you like pancakes."

"I do," I replied, my voice still rough from sleep. I leaned against the counter and watched him. "I didn't take you for the cooking type."

He smirked as he flipped a pancake onto a plate. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sasha."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be a challenge?"

He glanced at me, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Maybe. My household staff has the weekend off. They do have their own families that I'm sure they want to spend some time with instead of hanging out here all the time."

I rolled my eyes and moved to the table, where a cup of coffee was already waiting for me. To my surprise, it was exactly how I liked it, a dash of cream with a teaspoon of sugar. How did he figure out how I liked my coffee in the short time we had known each other? Denver Roberts was a curiosity. I took a sip, savoring the rich, bold flavor. "You're full of surprises, Denver."

He set a plate of pancakes in front of me, along with a small bowl of fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup. "Eat. We have a lot to discuss."

I picked up my fork, cutting into the fluffy pancake. "Like what?"

He sat across from me, his own plate in hand. "Like how we're going to sell this relationship to the board. And to the public. We have this weekend to figure everything out before we make our debut at the office."

I chewed slowly, considering his words. "I've been thinking about that. It needs to look real. We don't want people to think we're in love or anything."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're worried people might think we're in love?"

I felt my cheeks heat up. "No. I'm just saying we need to be careful, make it look natural. It's way too out of the blue and unexpected. We don't want to give anyone the wrong idea."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "And what's the wrong idea, Sasha?"

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. "You know what I mean. We're not actually together. If we keep this simple, then it will be easier to disentangle out of the situation at the end of six months. We can just say that we dated and things didn't work out in the end. This is just an arrangement."

He nodded, but there was something in his expression that made me uneasy. "Right. Just an arrangement."

We ate in silence for a few minutes, his words hanging in the air. Finally, I set my fork down and looked at him. "So, what's the plan?"

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "First, we need to make it look like we've been together for a while. That means we'll have to come up with a story about how we met, how long we've been dating, all that."

I nodded. "Okay. What else?"

"We'll need to make public appearances. Events, press conferences, fashion shows, that kind of thing. We'll have to act like a couple in front of the cameras. In fact, there's a charity event to raise funds for the local children's hospital next Saturday."

I frowned. "So soon? I'm not exactly comfortable with that."

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