Page 40 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

“Yes, it does.”

“Can’t you, you know, taste it, though? Isn’t it all gingery? I don’t like the idea of ginger in my tea. I only like ginger in ginger snaps and ginger ale.”

“What about that redhead guy you dated a couple of years ago? You liked that kind of ginger, if I recall.”

“Oh God,” I said with a laugh. “When he took off his pants, it looked like he had a strawberry patch below the waist. I just couldn’t take him seriously.”

She shook her head. “You’re so weird. Most women like the idea of a big red-haired highlander or Irishman to sweep them off their feet.”

“Ha-ha. Not this girl.”

“Mmm.” She sipped her tea again and looked a bit better. “I’m sorry that your fake husband acts like a possessive dickwad.”

“Actually, he’s been really good for the last few weeks, surprisingly.”

“He has?” she cocked her head to the side. “Are you talking about the same Evan Jones here?”

“Yeah. Go figure, but he’s been giving me my space as much as he can. I mean, I still get pulled all over the place for photo ops and such to keep growing his brand, but other than that, he tries to give me room to breathe. He’s not making me join him for breakfast at an appointed hour any longer, and I don’t have to ask his permission to leave the house.”

“How did all of this come about? Was he visited by three ghosts in the night?”

“We, um, we had a fight. A pretty big one, because I forgot to wear my fake wedding ring to the movie premiere. He was acting like we were actually married, instead of fake married, so I told him where he could stuff that attitude.”

I sighed as I recalled his angry face.

“And then he started throwing my contract in my face, saying that he owned me and all of this shit. I told him that I was his fake wife, not his slave, and that he wasn’t giving me enough room to breathe.”

“Wow. I take it he didn’t like you saying that?”

I decided to just tell her everything.

“Well, he got all huffy about the wedding ring thing again. I asked him why he cared so much if it was all fake, anyway. Then, he… he grabbed me and kissed me. I mean fucking kissed me, stole my breath away and everything.”

“Oh my,” Jennifer said, her mouth forming an O.

“Yeah. Then he said something like ‘is this real enough for you?’ We started making out, like practically dry humping in the car.”

“I’ve been there before,” she said with a chuckle. “Good thing the back of a limo is so spacious. It allows for a lot of different positions.”

I was on too much of a roll to laugh at her joke.

“I cut him off. It didn’t feel right for some reason, I don’t know. I retreated to my room, and then the next morning I’m super late for breakfast. I creep in there thinking he’s going to be a total prick about it. Instead, he didn’t even react. He’s been acting nicer ever since.”

“That’s incredible.” She shook her head. “I mean, really incredible. From what I understand, Evan’s reputation was even worse than Marshall’s. He’s even more ruthless and cold.”

“Sometimes, I get a glimmer from Evan that he’s not super cold. Sometimes he’s really warm. I mean, at the movie premiere we were showing off for the cameras. You know, hugging, kissing, hanging off of each other and all of that.”

“I saw the photos. You sure looked happy in some of those.”

“I felt happy in some of those,” I said with a sigh. “Anyway, he kept up the act even when no one was around. He kept trying to kiss on me and lick the back of my neck, which drives me absolutely fucking crazy.”

“Oh yeah, too many guys ignore the neck. I swear they have a map ingrained in their head that goes ‘lips, tits, pussy’ in that order.”

I laughed and then sipped my latte, only to find it empty. One of the waiters magically appeared and refilled it, offering a discreet smile to go with the discreet service.

“I’ve never gotten this good of service anywhere.”

“You’re the owner’s wife, what do you expect? They’d probably throw themselves down on a puddle for you so you wouldn’t get your feet wet.”

---