Page 23 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince
“Thanks.” She gave me a tentative wave, left with two bottles, and headed back down to her end of the hall. Clearly, I was now the weird one on the floor. Not that I needed to make friends, but I didn’t want to stand out any more than I had to.
Leaning against the door, I forced my body to relax.
He wasn’t here.
This was not going to go well if I acted like this every time I was in here. I was good at pretending. I spent my entire life putting on an act.
Surviving my stepmother's horrendous treatment of me was the best performance of my life.
In turn, I grieved for my father in silence, knowing that any utterance of him drew the ire of my stepmother. I worked at what used to be my mother’s wedding dress boutique, and now my stepmother’s, not because I wanted to but because I had nothing else.
Yet.
If I could pretend the way Elaine treated me didn't bother me in the slightest, I could hide how I really responded to Dean’s presence.
So I would pretend last night never happened. When I ran into Mr. Dean Prince again, I would do my job and be exceedingly polite. I would pretend I never saw him naked, that I didn’t know how good he could make me feel behind closed doors, or that I nearly saw him naked again last night.
My imagination was already recreating our night together, fueled by the sight of his half-naked body. I shook my head, trying to scatter my lust-filled thoughts. Thinking that way at work. Could. Not. Happen.
I threw my shoulders back and forced confidence I didn’t feel into my stance, then knocked on the bathroom door just to be sure. Not hearing a reply, I pushed it open with enough force it bounced off the wall behind it. I grimaced and quickly checked the wall, grateful to find I hadn’t dented anything, and got right to work.
I was an adult, and I would handle this situation as one. I didn’t need to let my most recent meeting with Dean Prince define my future.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dean
Itightened my gripon the ticket in my hand and willed my legs to move faster. The airline printed it when I’d realized my phone had died just before I went through check-in. My carry-on bag slammed against the side of my knee. The force of it made me stumble.
What the fuck!I’d nearly done a face plant and had less than three minutes to get to my gate.
Damn you, Henri. If I miss my flight, it’s all your fault.He’d waited until the absolute last minute to get me the wedding designs and now I had to hurry or catch the next flight from Paris to New York.
Henri and I had known each other since we started together at Prince Industries. While I worked my way up in my father’s company, he worked his way up in our design department. We both had the same drive and ambition, and had clicked. I still missed the bastard now that he was living in Paris full time. Getting to see my partner in crime while I was in France had been the best part of the trip.
I turned the corner, and watched the flight attendants gather up the tickets from the podium and turn to walk through the open door behind them. I knew once they made it through and shut the gate, I’d have lost my chance of getting home tonight. This flight to New York was the only one that made my connecting flight in time to get back to Rhode Island.
