Page 39 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince
I was about to walk into Dean Prince’s office with an armful of lingerie.
Ignoring the sexual pull he had on me was going to be hard enough. Especially when I had to watch him handling each piece I’d painstakingly created. His fingers touching and stroking the bras and panties. I pressed my knees together, my core already starting to throb. Sexy thoughts of him flooded my mind again.
“Ash, are you still with me?”
“Yes, uh-huh. Sorry. How am I going to do this, Stella?”
“Suck it up, buttercup.” Stella lowered her voice to a whisper. “If this works out for you, you know what that’ll mean.”
“I won’t have to do what your mom is forcing me to do.”
We both stayed silent, thinking about how awesome that would be. “Yeah. I hate that she did that to you. I’m sorry, Ash.”
I shivered. “I hate everything about it. What does Elaine even think she’ll do with them anyway? PI is a huge company. Our boutique is small. We’re not even on the same level.”
“I have no idea.” She paused before whispering, “I have to go. I don’t want my mom or sister hearing me if they wake up. Love you.”
“Love you too.” We hung up.
Even with Stella’s reassurances, I wondered how long I could keep up this ruse with Dean. I didn’t have one-night stands, and yet I thought I could walk away from that night unscathed.
He’d been so sweet and attentive. I think a part of my heart had already decided to fall for him. Even now, getting to know him as Ashlyn, my real self, each of our conversations fanned the flames of the crush that had begun that night.
I groaned and laid back on my bed. “What are you thinking? He’s Dean frickin’ Prince, Ashlyn,” I said out loud. “He’s not the type to want more. You need to stop this insane crush immediately. You were caught up in the moment. Don’t forget why you left that morning.” Hearing my voice echo around my tiny bedroom, I realized I was doing a poor job of convincing myself.
My heart failed to recognize we were not destined for one another. I’d left the next day telling myself I didn’t want more than that moment, but the reality I’d forced myself to acknowledge, is that men like him don’t date women like me. By walking away first, I didn’t have to wait around for him to reject me when I started to desire something more permanent.
Picturing him brought about all those funny, fluttery, crush feelings. Excitement raced through my body at the thought of seeing him again, combined with the nerves of not knowing what to say or do around him.
Dean was way out of my league. If he knew who I really was, he’d realize it too.
It was far better he didn’t know, and my alter ego stayed this unknown girl who didn’t belong in his world. The sooner my heart stopped thumping like mad at the thought of him, the better off I’d be.
I needed to remind myself of that.
Determined to go to sleep, I shut my eyes and tried to think of anything but Dean. I thought of my new designs and how satisfying it would be to show my stepmother that I didn’t need her. I only needed to prove to Dean that I was ready to work hard and taking a chance on me and my business was worth it.
I finally started to drift off when the feel of Dean’s lips against mine popped back into my head. Instead of fighting it, I revisited our night together until I fell asleep. After all, he was just a fantasy, and that was where he would stay.
***
I’D BARELY GOTTEN ANYsleep last night, but I walked into the Enchanted Bridal Boutique with a spring in my step.
I was determined to do this.
I’d wow Dean, and he’d have no choice but to invest or help me find investors. In the meantime, I had work to do. With a broken machine, I would have to find time to create the rest of my designs in secret at the boutique.
I sat at my workstation after avoiding both Elaine and Adelise on the way to the back room. Burda had been scheduled to work with an early appointment and was still with the bride.
I rolled my seat forward and stopped. My right foot swung farther forward than it usually did. The tips of my toes tingled as though reminding me that by now they should’ve tapped on the box I had hidden underneath. I always put it in the same place after every shift, a spot where no one would run into it. But the box didn’t hit my shoe this morning. It was gone.
No, no, no...not my box of fabric.
Adrenaline flooded me, propelling me out of my seat, pushing me to search in a vain attempt to find it.
With shaky hands, I fumbled under my desk. When my fingertips failed to bump into anything, I grabbed my phone and turned on the light. Bending over, I searched under my desk, then methodically walked each inch of the back room twice before I could admit to myself that the box was well and truly gone.
It had to have been Elaine. She must have known about the box all along and thought that I’d be further motivated to help her steal the designs without it. And if Dean couldn’t help me, she just might be right.
