Page 12 of A Game of Ruck
What is my life?
I slip into the seat across from him and buckle up like that’ll somehow tether me to reality.
“Luca?”I ask.
“Yeah?”he says, not even bothering to look up.
Of course.Too busy with his aura of cool indifference.
Until he lowers his sunglasses with two fingers and bam—those piercing blue eyes hit me full force like a sucker punch to the libido.
I swear my uterus tries to do a backflip.
“Um.Thanks,” I manage, barely.“For coming.I mean—for doing this.With me.”
He shrugs, lazy and maddeningly confident, like agreeing to fake-date a plus-sized stranger for a weekend is just his usual Thursday night social calendar.
Then he takes the sunglasses off entirely and smirks.
“You had a private jet on standby, Angel.Promised me beachfront accommodations.Plus, we haven’t even negotiated payment terms yet.”His voice drops a little, sinful and teasing.“But let’s be real—I’d have to be clinically dead to say no.”
I narrow my eyes.“So, you’re just here for the perks, huh?”
“Oh, definitely.”He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed right on me.“Has nothing to do with the gorgeous woman flying me there.The one with eyes that throw lightning and a mouth that looks like sin.”
My breath catches.
He winks.
Like a devil who knows he’s going to ruin you and is already planning the encore.
“Strictly business, Angel.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s mostly to distract from the fact that my whole body is currently short-circuiting.
This is fine.Totally manageable.
He’s a flirt.A showman.A professional player—in every sense.
This is pretend.All of it.A temporary arrangement.
So why does it already feel dangerously real?
God help me, he’s too charming.
I feel it like an itch under my skin, a hum in the air between us.
And worse, I’m starting to relax.
Joke.Flirt back.
This is how people get in trouble.
Because with the way he’s looking at me now—like I’m not just the decoy date but the whole damn prize—I could almost believe it’s real.
And that is dangerous.Because it’s not.
It’s fake.
