Page 26 of Faking the Shot
And just like that, we’re too close. His sunglasses hide his eyes, but I can feel his gaze anyway, heavy and unrelenting. His hands linger a beat too long, firm and warm, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of how solid he feels against me. My breath catches as our faces almost collide, his mouth so close I can feel the heat of his breath mixing with mine.
I don’t know what comes over me, but for one ridiculous second, I think about kissing him. It’s an insane thought—one I shove down fast enough to make my head spin.
“You good?” he asks, his voice low and rough, snapping me out of my daze.
“Fine,” I say quickly, stepping back and smoothing down my jacket like it might hide the fact that my heart is doing cartwheels. “Lead the way.”
Kaden doesn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and I swear he’s fighting a smirk as he grabs my bag and starts toward the house.
I follow, tugging my jacket tighter around me, trying to focus on anything other than the lingering warmth where his hands had been. The estate sprawls out before us, with manicured lawns, gleaming glass windows, and a hint of something floral in the air. A pair of horses graze lazily near the stables, utterly unbothered by our arrival.
Inside, the luxury hits like a slap in the face. Vaulted ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows letting in golden sunlight, and an open floor plan that looks like something out of Architectural Digest. It’s not just a house—it’s a statement.
Kaden tosses my bag onto a sleek bench near the entryway before nodding toward a massive sectional sofa near a stone fireplace. “Sit wherever you want, I’m going to the kitchen.”
I don’t sit. Not yet. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and plant myself in front of him. “We need to talk.”
He groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus, Valentina. Can it wait until I’ve had something to drink?”
“No,” I say firmly, standing my ground. “We need ground rules, and we need them now. I’m not spending the next year winging this fake relationship just because you’re too hungover to care.”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”
I take a step closer, pointing a finger at him. “Rule one: no impromptu narrative. We stick to the story Kimmy came up with. If anyone asks, we’ve been keeping things private but decided to make it official after Brittany pulled that online stunt. No improvising, no ‘surprise twists.’”
“Noted,” he says, his tone dry. “Next?”
“Rule two: personal boundaries. No getting handsy unless we’re in public and it’s necessary to sell the story.”
His eyebrow arches above his sunglasses. “Handsy? You mean like when you threw yourself at me getting out of the helicopter?”
I glare at him, my cheeks heating. “That was not throwing myself at you. That was survival. I almost fell, and you caught me, which I appreciate.”
“Looked pretty handsy to me,” he mutters, but I ignore him.
“Rule three: no comments about my personal life. You don’t get to make digs about my job, my past, or my divorce.”
At that, his smirk vanishes, replaced by a furrowed brow. “So we’re not talking about the asshole who dumped you?”
“Yeah, is that a problem?”
“No,” he says, his tone softer, though his scowl lingers. “Just didn’t expect it.”
“Well, now you know.” I straighten my shoulders. “Rule four: keep your ego in check. This is about keeping things professional, not making you look like the world’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Anything else?” he asks, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. “Should I start taking notes?”
“Rule five,” I say, glaring at him. “No insulting my intelligence or assuming I care about being famous. This arrangement is about helping you, not stroking your ego.”
Kaden sighs heavily, like I’ve just asked him to climb Everest. “Fine. Are we done now?”
“Not quite,” I say, finally sitting on the edge of the couch. “If we’re going to do this, we have to look like we actually like each other. Smiles. Shared stories. A little flirting won’t kill you.”
He grimaces like I suggested we get matching tattoos. “Flirting?”
“Yes, flirting. Try it sometime. You might actually have fun.”
“Doubtful,” Kaden mutters, standing to his full height, his broad shoulders blocking the light like a human eclipse. “Anything else, boss?”
