Page 41 of The Fake Dating Plan

“You like it?”

“I’m not a wine expert of some sort, but it tastes great.”

He took a sip as well. “It should. It won awards.”

“On top of businessman, historian, and tour guide, I didn’t know we would add winemaker to the list.”

“I’m only an investor at best. Martinez, the manager you just met, does all the work.”

“He’s really good. You should give him a raise.”

“This based on one sip?”

“It’s a good sip.”

“Mmmm.” He stalked around the table to sit on the other chair, his eyes on me the entire time. The attention rattled my nerves. I scanned through my mind for a topic, a subject, anything that wasn’t me. My attention went to the table. “It’s a unique table. Is it sturdy?” I’m afraid to lean on it, thinking it will topple over.

“It’s sturdy. Wanna test.”

And with no warning, he stood up and lifted me and sat me down on it. I yelped in surprise, but he was careful and so smooth that none of the wine in my glass spilled. “Is it sturdy?” He stood between my legs, our bodies grazing. The innuendo was hard to miss.

“Are we still talking about the table?”

He didn’t respond. The mood had shifted. His eyes were on my lips. The desire in his eyes was naked and obvious. Was it there this whole time and I didn’t want to acknowledge it? He took my glass from me, raised it to my lips, and tipped it. I opened my mouth without thinking and drank. His gaze never left my lips. He tipped the drink again, and again I sipped. This time, some of it spilled down my chin. He leaned in and licked it.

“Ax.” I wanted to say something coherent, but nothing came to mind except the feel of his tongue against my chin and how much I wanted to feel it on my lips. In my mouth. I didn’t have to beg. He bent in again and placed his lips on mine, stealing my wine and intoxicating me with a potent force of his own. I drew him closer and felt his erection against my pussy. He ground against it, leaning in and devouring me like I was the only drink he wanted. His lips left my mouth and he made a trail of kisses down my neck. “I want you.”

Those words took me out. I disentangled myself albeit a little reluctantly. “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

He pulled me back into his arms. “Just a little more.” He whispered. The temptation to let him was so great, I don’t know how I resisted, where I found the strength to push him away.

“I don’t think we should.”

He seemed to not have heard me. Then he reluctantly let his hands slide from my body. “Right,” he said, taking a step back. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I got down from the table, so I wouldn’t be tempted to reverse my decision. “But I don’t think it should happen again.”

“I guess that means the truce is over?”

The truce. I had forgotten about that. “The truce is not over. But it will be just that. And yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”

He gave me one of his big bright smiles. I was in trouble.

10

Our relationship changed after Mallorca. We were friendly. If friends meant people who orchestrated fake clandestine dates to fool relatives but appeared to just be professional associates to the rest of the world. It was working well, I had to admit. The week after we came back from Mallorca, Ax had taken me on our ‘first date.’ It was a private screening of a big-budget movie that would be released a month later. He ‘accidentally’ told his brother of this, who was more than happy to share it with the rest of the family. In the next couple of months, we went on a few similar ‘dates’. All private, all made to look like we were hiding an affair. Last night he booked an entire restaurant owned by a friend of his mother’s. The friend had, as expected, sent this nugget of confidential info to Ax’s mother. We both spent the whole date working separately on our own stuff. If it weren’t for the upcoming fashion show, and the increased demand due to the new and growing international market and without Christmas around the corner, I might have enjoyed the five-hundred-dollar salmon I ordered.

Ax seemed satisfied that he had successfully made his pesky mother not meddle in his relationships. It was the least I could do for a ‘friend’. My true friend, on the other hand, was getting suspicious. She knew something was going on between me and Ax. But she couldn’t ask without seeming like she was prying and with the hectic schedule, I didn’t have time to explain to Laura what exactly was happening. She kept giving both of us surreptitious glances whenever we were in each other’s company. The glances became less surreptitious and more overt when Axel came unannounced to our warehouse.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a business of your own to run?” I asked him when he came strolling out of the elevator. In a dark blue coat and black scarf, he looked like the quintessential New York billionaire.

“Ouch. That’s not the greeting I expected,” he leaned in, “from my girlfriend.” I stepped back “Are you trying to expose us?”

His lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Are we an Us?”

---