Page 35 of Billionaire Fake Fiancé Daddy

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “So fucking pretty.”

“Next you’ll tell me I’m a good assistant.”

Gage laughs and pulls me down onto the couch with him so that I’m straddling his lap. His face is so close to mine, I feel breathless.

“You are a very bad assistant,” he says. “I don’thowyou can be that bad. You’re smart. You’re trying. But you’re just...” he makes a motion with his hand. “A disaster.”

I try to squirm out of his lap. “I liked it better when you were telling me I was pretty.”

His arms tighten around my waist and he pulls me close, tucking his face in the crook of my neck. “Don’t go. Please.”

There’s something earnest and vulnerable in his voice, and I stop trying to escape.

Also, it’s kind of hot having him hold me like this. He’s warm and strong. When he’s drunk enough to let down his guard,I’mthe only thing in this apartment he wants to keep close.

I let myself relax against him, as his fingers slip under the hem of my t-shirt and trace the warm skin there.

“I bought you a ring,” he says, his voice thick.

“Oh?” I know it’s just for our fake relationship. But he’s saying it like it’s important, and that makes my heart beat fast.

“It’s in my pocket,” he says. When he talks, I can feel the movement of his lips against the sensitive skin on my neck. It’s not quite kissing, but it’s erotic as hell.

Then he shifts me just enough that he can reach into his pocket and produce a jewelry box that he presses into my hands.

I open it and see a golden band littered with tiny diamonds swirling towards one brilliant, big, flawless one in the center.

“Oh, Gage,” I breathe.

He’s watching me closely. Like he’s hungry for my approval. “I got gold 'cause it’s warm like you. Do you like it?”

I nod, suddenly finding it hard to speak. It’s just dawned on me that when I eventually get married for real, there’s no way my real engagement ring will be half as perfect as this.

The ring isn’t the real problem though. It’s Gage. He’s larger than life, and not what I expected at all. He’s not perfect by a long shot, but I’m still worried that when this is all over, it will be hard to find anyone who comes close to measuring up.

I swallow, trying to get a grip on my emotions. I need to be practical. Clear-eyed. I can’t romanticize Gage, just because he gets affectionate when he’s drunk. I need to remind myself of how cold and calculating he can be when he’s sober.

“Gage,” I say. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.” He smooths my hair out of my face and cradles my face. He’s looking at me with something approaching tenderness, and that scares the shit out of me.

“The business deal you want. The one that’s the reason you need a fake fiancée. What is it?” I need him to tell me it’s a ruthless deal to destroy someone’s beloved company. Something that will make him billions. Something that I can use to remind myself that at the end of the day—for him—our fake relationship is only about money. Nothing else.

But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he clamps his mouth shut and looks away.

“Gage.”

He shakes his head.

So I decide to play dirty. I reach up and gently massage his head, exactly the way he liked before. His hair is so thick and soft.

Gage’s eyes flutter closed in distracted pleasure. He lets his head fall back against the couch. “No fair. You’re too pretty.”

I can’t help but smile. “Tell me about the business deal, Gage.”

“Baseball. I want to buy the Coyotes. I can make them better.” He sighs happily over what my fingers are doing. “I don’t want stupid Scott Chaney to destroy them.”

My heart skips a beat. “You’re doing all this with me, upending your life, paying me all that money, just to protect your dad’s team. You’re doing all this for love.”

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