Page 8 of My Fake Lover

»Ivy,« he stopped me with my darkly whispered name. »Listen.« I pressed my lips together. And my thighs together. »That was the wrong start. Maybe I should start with the fact that I need a companion.« He read the big question in my eyes and continued, »For my brother’s wedding. Or rather, for the worst decision of his life.« I remembered the phone call in the hallway. Ian, was that his brother?

»Don’t you have anyone in your collection of beautiful companions who long for your witty, charming company?«

He clenched his jaw, as if imagining what he would like to do with me and my cheeky mouth. And yes, indeed, a few things came to mind; maybe that’s why I provoked him so?

»It’s quite short notice.«

»Didn’t they plan the wedding for a long time?«

»No,« he replied curtly, as if he couldn’t understand that fact either. »My brother is known for impulsive actions,« he said, giving me the impression that he didn’t want to reveal that at all.

»Okay, let me summarize. You need a companion and would pay me for it? Why?«

He hesitated briefly, as if unsure whether to speak the truth. »I don’t just need a companion; I actually need a girlfriend. And they would like you.«

»Just them?« I had to grin when he didn’t know how to respond. »Just kidding. I’m supposed to play your girlfriend? I’m still wondering: Why?«

The limousine stopped a little too abruptly, and I was pushed forward a bit. In doing so, my knee touched his, and I immediately pulled my leg back. Mistake.

»My brother has this idea of setting me up. It’s nerve-wracking.« He rolled his eyes.

»Because you’d rather stay single and pay strangers to play your girlfriend?«

»Once again: We’re not strangers.« Was that a smile? A tiny little smile? No, definitely not. Just a shadow from outside that had distorted his features for a moment. »But no, strictly speaking, I’m not introducing anyone to my brother. And I don’t pay for my dates.«

I took a deep breath and pressed myself tighter against the leather. »Why didn’t you just ask me? Maybe I would have said yes.«

Again, it seemed as if he didn’t want to reveal his entire plan to me. But what choice did I have? If I continued working as a waitress, I would never earn enough in two lifetimes to pay off my old debts and buy a new truck. So what was the harm in spending a few days with this sexy jerk, pretending to be the embodiment of love?

»Okay, I’ll do it,« I replied before he could continue. »But I have conditions.«

»Of course, I’ll draw up a contract...«

»No contract.« I rolled my eyes, spat in my hand, and held it out to him. »This is worth more than a written contract. It’s a pact.«

He examined my hand as if he didn’t know what to make of it, and I almost laughed out loud. »What are your conditions?« he asked when he could tear his eyes away from my hand.

»No sex. I’m not a call girl. Displays of affection only when someone else is present, and separate sleeping arrangements if we stay overnight.« All these things kept me from doing things that endangered me and my heart. This was my personal boundary, as I already felt Max getting dangerously close.

»We will stay overnight; it’s an insanely tedious spectacle over five days.« He spat in his hand too and shook mine. This time I really had to grin. »Agreed.«

»Agreed.« The tingling of his touch scorched my arm, and I quickly pulled my hand away. Somehow, this way of sealing a deal was cooler in my memory as a five-year-old girl when I had traded my lollipop for Tom Bear’s chocolate.

Max pulled a handkerchief from his pants and handed it to me. A cloth handkerchief, mind you. Of course. Could it get any more snobbish? I took it from him and cleaned my hands with it while he conjured a second one from his magical pants. Did I want to know what he did with these things? Definitely not.

I wanted to give it back to him, but for reasons not entirely clear to me, I automatically put it in my pocket. Perhaps because I was taking a piece of him home. A kind of trophy for Marlow. She’d never believe this.

An incredibly wealthy CEO and billionaire was paying me to be his companion at his apparently much more easygoing brother’s wedding. Crazy.

»Just to finalize this matter, what amount are we talking about?«

»One million dollars.« I gasped for air, and he seemed surprised. »If it’s too little for you, we can renegotiate...«

»Good heavens, no, it’s actually way too much!« I was thinking of one, maybe two thousand dollars. A million? How much money did this man have? Did he spend any of it at all?

»I find it appropriate.«

»I would agree if your family were from hell, but they can’t be worse than you.« He snorted, but his eyes sparkled amusedly this time. I liked that expression. »It would be enough for me to repair and pay off Betsy. I don’t want anything more.«

---