Page 21 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
“What did he do?”
“Well, everything from measuring out baking ingredients to stirring pasta sauces. Sometimes he even created cooking recipes. He made me put avocados in pancakes once, and they turned out pretty good.”
“Really?” I laugh as I imagine Alex as a little boy with a toque and an apron. I didn’t know he had the talent. I’m not keen on cooking so he would be an ideal husband for me… Wait a minute. What am I thinking?
“Yep!” Rosie nods. “He’s a good man, and I’m glad he finds a good girl who deserves him.”
I blush at her compliment. “Thank you. But how do you know I’m a good girl?”
“Oh, I can tell,” she says with a hearty laugh. “I haven’t lived for seventy-five years without learning a thing. I just knew you’re a good match the moment I saw you two together.”
Oh my God. What would she say once she found out we were no longer together? I feel bad deceiving her already. Maybe it’s just a polite compliment, I comfort myself. But the genuine happiness written on her face proves me wrong. Gosh. Why is everyone in Alex’s family so nice? The guilt only accumulates each time I speak to someone.
I’m still savoring the last bite of the pancake when I hear footsteps in the hallway towards the kitchen. When I look up, I see a tall woman in her early fifties that bears resemblance to Alex. I know instantly it must be his half-sister Samantha, Mike’s daughter from a previous marriage.
I swallow the food in my mouth and get ready to greet her. But she gives me a tight nod and goes on to speak to Rosie. “Rosie, may I have some milk? My little boy needs it.”
As Rosie hurries toward the fridge to fetch the required item, Samantha turns me and says, “Hi, I’m Samantha, Alex’s sister.”
“I’m Vivian, Alex’s…fiancée,” I falter a little, not used to the term yet. I need to practice if I want to pull through the day without arousing any suspicion.
“Nice to meet you,” Samantha says and shakes my hand. She looks me up and down haughtily as if checking to see whether I’m worthy of her brother. Her lips curled into a smile, but it seems forced to me. “Wow. You’reveryyoung.”
The way she says it with a slight grimace makes me feel as if it’s a crime to be young. I want to tell her twenty-two isn’t that young and that there are many people younger than me. But I don’t say it. Instead, I squeeze a smile, pretending it’s a compliment, and say, “Thank you.”
“How and where did Alex find you?” she asks, again conceitedly, as if I were a piece of garbage that shouldn’t cross her brother’s path.
“Oh, I’ve known him for—,” I nearly blurt out the fact I’ve known Alex since I was a baby, but I catch myself in time. “I’ve been an intern at his company for a while.”
“Intern?” Samantha lifts an eyebrow and shows more disdain on her face. “I see.”
What does she see? She doesn’t say more, but I guess the rest. She thinks I’m a gold-digger.
Rosie brings Samantha a glass of milk, and she takes leave promptly after thanking the cook. But she doesn’t give me another glance.
My heart sinks at the realization that Samantha doesn’t like me. I didn’t expect that. Alex spoke fondly of his half-sister on the jet, saying she and her husband took good care of their family business.
The pancakes I’ve wolfed down earlier don’t sit well in my stomach, and threaten to throw up. I don’t know why it should bother me so much whether Samantha likes me or not, considering my engagement with her brother isn’t even real. With that thought heavy in mind, I return to my bedroom.
Alex is back already and is showering in the bathroom. I take the dress Karen got me from the closet and put it on. I’m still working on the zip when Alex steps out, wearing a towel around his middle.
My mouth falls as my eyes fix on his masculine chest matted with a layer of hair. My God. He looks so yummy. My thighs squeeze as I recall how good it felt to curl up against him.
His eyes darken as well as he checks me out. “You look stunning, Vivian!”
That expression thrills me and my body tingles even more. I like his compliment although he might be doing it out of politeness.
“Thanks,” I mumble. “You too.”
He’s cleanly shaven and looks at least ten years younger but no less handsome. “Why did you shave?”
He grins. “I want to look younger next to my young fiancée.
I laugh. “But I like your scruff.”
“Why?” He looks puzzled.
“Because…” I stop myself from blurting. I like the feeling when it prickles my skin when he kisses me.
