Page 64 of Fake for 7 days

"And?" I smoothed my suit. "The suit is tailor-made. And the shoes are also custom-made. Pretty upscale, right?"

The waiter nodded dutifully.Never contradict a guest.That was one of the first rules in the hotel and restaurant industry, which the man in front of me was trying to follow as best he could, without forgetting to implement the pointless rules of the event organizer.

"Listen here." I lowered my voice and leaned forward slightly so that none of the surrounding guests could overhear us. "The tickets for this event aren't exactly cheap. They actually cost quite a lot. You could buy several pairs of shoes with that. Good shoes. That's okay, after all, it's all for the benefit of the homeless. So you probably don't want to deny me entry?"

The waiter lowered his eyes, thought for a moment, and then replied: "Would you like a glass of champagne?"

Satisfied, I nodded, took two glasses from the tray, and handed one to Isabella, who was looking around curiously.

"I recognize a few faces from the newspaper," she remarked excitedly. "Is that possible?"

"It's quite possible," I said. Then I raised my champagne flute, looked deep into Isabella's brown eyes, which were sparkling with warmth today, and said: "To an unforgettable evening." Grinning, I added: "Fiancée."

"To our engagement." Isabella also raised her glass and clinked it against mine with a tinkling sound. She giggled. "Feels somehow... different."

What did she mean by that?

"At least I've never spent an evening like this and could call it 'work'." Isabella sipped her glass.

Basically, she was right, but... for some reason, her statement bothered me. We had a contract. This was work. And yet I didn't want Isabella to see it that way.

"That you dare to show up here!" At that moment, the guest with the shiny red bald head stood in front of us. "That you have the nerve!" He hissed as he spoke, spraying tiny droplets of spit around. "What are you doing here?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, irritated. The bald guy with the dirty shoes hadn't even said a full sentence and was already getting on my nerves immensely. How dare HE question my presence here? I had tickets, I was one of the most important and wealthy citizens of New York. I had every right to be in this hall. Mr. Dirty Shoes had no right to say anything to me. We didn't even know each other.

"I don't believe we've met before," I said coolly, but as politely as I could and was about to turn my back on the man. I wasn't going to let my mood be spoiled on an evening like this. Certainly not by a small-time wannabe gigolo with dirty shoes. Those should have shined like his bald head. THAT would have been something. The thought made me grin.

"I don't mean you. I mean HER!" The bald guy jabbed his finger in the air, pointing to my astonishment at Isabella. She stood frozen beside me, staring at him speechlessly.

"Do you have to show up everywhere I am and get in my way?" the guy now barked at Isabella.

"Then just turn around!" Isabella's cheeks had reddened and her voice sounded sharp. "Then I won't be in your way anymore! And you won't have to see me either. And I won't have to see you."

What was going on here? Who was this guy and how did he know Isabella? He was using the informal 'you' with her, while she used the formal form with him. What kind of strange relationship was this? Had he once been her teacher? The age difference between them would fit that scenario. But why would a teacher develop such an aversion to one of his students? While I was still puzzling over this, the confrontation between the guy and Isabella entered its next round.

"A few days ago you were begging me for a letter of recommendation that you supposedly needed so urgently. And now you're here, as a guest at an obscenely expensive event." The man snorted indignantly through his nose. Once again, a small droplet flew onto the floor in front of us. I shuddered with disgust.

Letter of recommendation. The guy must indeed have been either a former teacher or professor. Or a former boss.

"So what?" Isabella didn't hesitate to talk back to the bald man. If necessary, I would stand by her side, but she was holding her own bravely. A woman who stood up for herself. I liked that. The flushed cheeks also brought out Isabella's full lips beautifully. She snapped at the bald guy: "I can be wherever I want. It's none of your business."

"I see you've hooked yourself a man," the man needled. "That's what you women like to do, isn't it? Get someone to take care of you when you can't do anything yourself or are too lazy to work."

Now that was enough.

"Leave my fiancée alone!" My sharp voice drew the attention of the guests standing around us. Their conversations fell silent and they looked over at us. I didn't care at all now.

"Fiancée?" The bald guy chuckled mockingly. "Well, my condolences. You've really brought something nice into your house. You're in for it with her." What did the guy mean by that? I had no idea. But I wasn't going to ask. I didn't want to give the man that satisfaction.

"Yes, indeed, I have brought something nice into my house." With these words, I put my arm around Isabella and pulled her reassuringly against me. I turned my head briefly to her, smiled at her, and then looked back at the bald guy, whose name I still didn't know. Mr. Pig Eyes? Or Mr. Baldy? Several good options came to mind spontaneously. But I continued more moderately: "If you're jealous because YOU couldn't find a suitable companion for tonight and are therefore pretty much the only man in the room who's alone here, then you should work that out with yourself and not take your anger out on my fiancée!"

At that moment, Isabella giggled softly and looked at me admiringly. At the look in her eyes, my cock throbbed slightly. And another, unfamiliar feeling flowed through my body.

What was that?

After my words, something happened that I wouldn't have thought possible: The man turned even redder. The color of his bald head could easily compete with a boiled lobster.

"Yes, and who do I have to thank for that?" He hissed, pointing at Isabella once again.

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