Page 20 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

A laugh slipped out, genuine and surprising. "Exhausting," I said, glancing at Claire. "Especially when they don’t listen."

Her eyes narrowed, but her lips twitched like she was suppressing a smile. "Michael can be a handful," she said, deliberately misinterpreting my jab. Her defensiveness had waned, giving way to something else. Something unreadable. Something unfamiliar.

Had my presence, my world, really changed her that much?

Michael’s rapport with her was enviable, the kind of bond I didn’t know siblings were supposed to have. It made me see why she sacrificed so much. Why she needed to keep this escape intact, why she needed money. I expected siblings to be more like Jen, to be honest. Cruel and unkind, selfish and only out for themselves with no concern for others.

"What’s it like for you?" I asked Michael, turning the conversation back to him. "Having Claire bossing you around all the time?"

He laughed. "Let’s just say I’m glad she now lives with you," he said looking at Claire as if he wanted to keep teasing his sister.

Claire gave him a stern look and then laughed back at him.

After we’d finished eating, Claire’s mother pulled me aside while Claire distracted Michael with a playful argument over who really made dinner.

"Alexander, it’s good of you to come."

Her words were filled with meaning. I could see she was still gauging my intent but wanted to believe the best for Claire’s sake.

I shrugged, hoping it seemed casual. "Figured I’d check in. Make sure you all don’t think I’m some monster."

She didn’t laugh at that. Instead, she gave a slow, deliberate nod, as if considering a new possibility. "Stay for dessert," she said. It was more command than invitation. "Michael made it."

When I hesitated, Michael's voice boomed across the room. "Claire, make him stay. We need a billionaire opinion on my pie."

I relented. What harm could come from staying longer and enjoying some pie with Claire’s family?

But the evening went on longer than I anticipated. Longer than I should have let it. Michael’s attempts to draw me in made me feel like one of the family, like I belonged. He treated me like a normal person, not a threat or an asset. I wasn’t used to that.

As the night wore on, I watched the way Claire’s initial surprise transformed. She seemed more introspective than annoyed, more curious than upset. Her family liked me. I’m sure she could see that.

When it was finally time to go, Claire joined me. We echoed the goodbyes said, and I tried to not ask why Jen wasn’t present at the family dinner.

The drive back was quiet, but not tense. Not like things had been since the hug.

Claire sat with her arms loosely crossed, gazing out the window as streetlights flickered past. The warmth of the evening lingered in the car, the scent of her mother’s home—fresh herbs and something sweet—still clinging to her sweater.

For the first time since that day, there was no bite in her tone. I pulled into the parking garage of my penthouse, the engine humming softly as I parked. Neither of us moved right away.

“I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” she said finally, her voice quieter than before.

“I know.”

She looked over then, studying me in a way I wasn’t used to. Like she was taking me in, like she was seeing something she hadn’t before.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be gone.” I wouldn’t tell her the worry I’d felt, that the fear something had happened to her left me stressed and furious.

She sighed, unbuckled, and stepped out. I followed.

Inside, the living room was dimly lit as I shut the door. Claire lingered, fingers trailing over the back of the sofa like she had questions she didn’t know how to ask.

“You didn’t have to stay,” she said.

“I wanted to.”

She turned, eyes searching mine, and something about the way she held my gaze made my pulse shift. There was no irritation in her expression, no dismissal. Just quiet curiosity.

“I think they liked you,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

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