Page 16 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

“What about me?”

“You’re here. In my house. They don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“So?”

“So—you’re the answer.Hm…what would they think? My mother would throw a fit, but… it would help matters.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Somewhere above us, a door opens and closes.“Damian? Damian, honey?”

Damian lowers his voice to a whisper. “You want six weeks, unsupervised? You can have it.”

“I can?” I keep my voice low, to match his.

“If you help me. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Above us, the operatic female voice rings through the house again.

“Damian, honey, where are you? I brought company. Addison and I are heading out shopping and we thought we’d stop in…”

Two sets of heels clip-clop across the floor above us. They get louder and louder, and then I hear a voice right at the top of thestairs. This one is less shrill, but jarring, nonetheless.“Pumpkin? You downstairs?”

I lean into Damian. “Is that your mother’s sidekick? She calls you Pumpkin?”

He groans. I nod.

“Okay, I’m in. It’s a deal. But I’m a terrible actress.”

“Just follow my lead.”

Footsteps ring off the walls as the women descend the iron steps. And then the duo steps down onto the landing.

I get a quick impression of the two of them. The older one, Damian’s mother, is in her sixties. She has a pinched face and short hair. She’s wearing big pearl earrings. The other woman is younger, taller, and all angles: high, sharp cheekbones, imposing shoulders, and jutting hips crammed into a tight pencil skirt.

Then, before I can even utter a greeting, I feel Damian’s hand slip into mine. His palm is warm, and tingles dance across my skin where our palms connect. He squeezes my hand and tugs me toward him.

One of his arms slides around my waist. He turns me and pulls me in more. Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

My eyes fly open.

He said to follow his lead, but I expected us to prattle out some white lies and call it a day. Notthis.

He’s all I see for an instant—those dark eyes, his damp dark hair falling over his brow—before my eyelids flutter closed.

His lips are warm, full, and soft.

His hand, on the small of my back now, applies just the right amount of pressure.

He’s holding me to him, and the feeling of our bodies touching is heavenly. The man’s all muscle, lean, tall, and strong. I haven’t been held like this—or kissed breathless like this—in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

His thumb feels light as a feather as it strokes my cheek. I lean into him, fusing my body with his. My head fills with fairy dust and fireworks, and for a moment, I forget where I am.

Who I am.

What I’m doing here in this house, with this man.

Nothing of my story has followed me into this moment. All I know is that Damian’s lips move against mine in a way that sends shivers down my spine. He smells like soap and shampoo, and I want this moment to go on and on and on, and never stop.

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