Page 52 of Taken By the Fake Fiancé

"I called you to talk about what Amelia said. I was on the phone with Jason, my attorney. He's going to investigate things, but then," he breathes, disbelief coloring the last two words, "when you walked in here--"

I close my eyes as his voice trails off. I know he's not forgotten about that brief but nerve-wracking moment in his childhood bedroom. I feel better knowing that we're on the same page… that this need to be possessed by him isn't one-sided.

On the flip side, I'm apprehensive. It'd be best if he doesn't feel it, as it will only cause the heat sizzling between us to burn even hotter.

"I need to go. There's a file I need to work on tonight."

The lie slips off my tongue effortlessly, cutting through the deafening silence.

Slowly he pulls back.

"Stay for dinner. Please."

His expression screams everything I'm feeling: arousal, need, lust…

"I'm sorry," he breathes and moves backward until he reaches the door, then he turns around and grips the metal handle, his eyes glued to mine. "I'll be outside. Take your time."

I sit still in the airy room for what seems like an eternity, shivering with a sense of emptiness. Then, for the umpteenth time, I remind myself that getting involved with Declan intimately is a surefire recipe for the heartbreak. The issues it would cause at work, and now, I must add Eli are just the beginning to add to the long list of considerations impacting others.

True to his words, Declan is leaning outside the door as I step into the hall. He flashes me a grin, then stretches his right palm, gingerly interlacing his calloused fingers with mine.

I expel a long sigh and squeeze his fingers gently.

"Eli is there already. Do you think he's eager to eat with us?" Declan draws out the words with a hint of relief in his tone.

Eli has a problem with me, not us.

"I doubt it. I think he's eager to get over it and call it a night."

He chuckles, then slides the glass door open with his free hand and beckons me to go ahead.

"I'll be back in a minute. Jason has been blowing up my phone. Let me hear what he has to say."

My heart skips. I don't think sitting across the table from Eli is a good idea.

What if he--

Declan leans in, kisses my forehead, and then strokes my bottom lip with his thumb.

"Breathe. I'll be back before you say jack."

"Jack," I mutter, eyes imploring him to stay, but he walks away with a light chuckle.

I'm beginning to think Declan enjoys watching his son tear me apart because why in God's name will he dump me here?

"Dad isn't coming?" Eli asks, glancing up from his iPad with a small frown as I step into the yellow lights hanging on long poles.

"Not quite yet. He just wants to make a quick call before joining us."

Then, without giving him time to shoot his next question, which may likely end up in a fight, I gesture at his iPad, sliding onto the couch beside him.

"That man looks mean. What's his name?"

Instantly, his eyes flicker to my face, then they light up. He places the device on the table and turns to me, still grinning.

"This is Thiago. He's the MVP because of his astounding tricks in handling the ball and the way he effortlessly maneuvers the ball into the goalpost. See," he drags a finger across the screen, moving the character I assume to be Thiago to face the goalpost with his right foot kicking the ball. He dribbles dodging his opponents for about three seconds, his white teeth flashing with amusement, then he kicks the ball right into the net, and a thunderous clap erupts from the spectators.

Eli laughs, then raises his fist toward me. I blink, drawing my head back. Then it dawns on me that the boy wants to bump his smaller fist against mine.

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