Page 26 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

“My father had a heart attack five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was minor, but the doctors told him he’d better retire early. I was spending a lot of time in Europe, but I moved back full time to take over his responsibilities. It’s not rocket science, running the company, but it takes some doing.”

“Makes sense to me.”

We work in silence that doesn’t feel completely uncomfortable. A few times, I’m tempted to break the quiet streak with some chatter, but his earlier jab about my talkative nature makes me bite my tongue.

The kitchen starts to smell delicious. Garlic, basil, simmering stewed tomatoes. Fresh bread, fresh herbs. When I pull the meatballs out of the oven, Damian says they smell “divine.”

The compliment means a lot to me, given the fact that he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to bother with flattery. I start to feel even better when he offers to get us a bottle of wine from his cellar to go with dinner.

By the time we sit down on the bar stools near the kitchen island to eat, I’ve consumed a glass of the best red wine I’ve ever tasted, and I feel like we’re making progress.

Progress towardwhat, I don’t know. A better working relationship? A better housemate relationship?

A better fake-girlfriend-and-boyfriend relationship?

And what the heck would that look like, anyway?

Maybe I don't have to figure out what we’re making progress towards. All I know is that I feel more comfortable around him. Which is probably why I blurt out, “So… Addison,” as I reach for a slice of bread to add to my plate. “Let’s talk about Addison.”

Chapter 9

Bella

“Why?” Damian asks.

“Because, if I’m going to do this pretend girlfriend thing, I want to know what I’m going to be dealing with. Based on the way she marched right in here this morning; I’m thinking that sort of thing might happen on a regular basis. Does she come over a lot?”

“More than I’d like.”

“Okay, and what’s the deal?”

He shovels a forkful of spaghetti and sauce into his mouth. Avoiding the question.

“Clearly, she still has a thing for you,” I say. “And I take it your mother’s a fan of hers.”

“My mother is dead set on getting me and Addison to walk down the aisle together.”

“And I’m supposed to help put the brakes on that runaway train?”

He nods and pats his lips with his napkin. “Precisely.”

“But you don’t want to marry Addison?”

“I don’t want to marryanyone.”

“Okay, but you lived with her?”

“I did. It was a mistake. I’d like to leave it at that.”

I laugh and reach for my wine glass. “Oh, come on. Where’s the fun in that? I want the juicy details.”

He purses his lips. Then he reaches for his glass, too. After taking a sip, he sets it down carefully and toys with the stem’s base with the tips of his fingers. “My parents mean well. I know that. They have a vision for my life. And for some time, when I was young, I thought that vision was also my vision. It can be difficult to tell the difference when you don’t know better.”

I nod. “Agreed. One hundred percent.”

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