Page 45 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

I hear the driver’s side door close with a heavy ‘thump ’. Then he emerges from around the hood and offers me a hand, but it’s too late. I now have both feet planted on the pavement.

My feet are on the ground, but I don’t feel grounded.

I’m still spinning.

Instead of taking his hand, I wave him off. “We don’t have to act anymore.”And it’s not a moment too soon, either.

If the night went on like it was, my crush on Damian would skyrocket out of ‘crush’ territory, straight into much more dangerous ‘I-have-feelings-for-you’ territory.

Those feelings are mostly ‘like’ related. I’m well on my way to considering Damian a friend. Agoodfriend. But there’s a sneaky dash of ‘I might love you’ thrown in, and that’s a problem.

A crush would be bad enough. Liking him would be worse, and love is completely out of the question.

But somewhere after that glass of totally delicious white wine he served me on the deck, I started to lose my grip on reality. Probably the wine wasn’t a good idea. I gulped it down too fast while Nora ushered me to that greenhouse room and pointed out different kinds of flowering plants.

A wine like that should be savored, not chugged.

That was mistake number one. And then they just kept coming. I let Damian hold me and do that cute interwoven-fingers thing he seems to like to do. I let myself look up into his eyes and laugh with him.

My brain knew we were there to act, but it started to feel real.

When he asked me if he could kiss me, all my senses were tricked.

For a few terrifying and invigorating seconds, I felt sure he wanted to touch his lips to mine for reasons that had nothing to do with his mother or Addison.

So, right now, I really need to say goodnight, take Bo out for a walk, and clear my head.

The sky above is a show of twinkling stars. The air’s soft and warm, and the woods out behind Damian’s house form a wall of dark trees. I veer toward the lower entrance. “Night.”

“Wait.” His voice is gruff.

Maybe he’s going to say some parting words about my work on his painting, or how he’d prefer if Bo doesn’t do his business on the lawn anymore.

I’ll pick up those messes,I promise myself.

But instead of any of that, he merely repeats the request. “Wait, Bella. Please.” He’s standing in the shadow of his hugecar, and I can’t make out his features. Only his silhouette: broad shoulders, hands in pockets. I watch him tilt his chin up and look at the stars like he’s thinking. Or, asking those twinkling, faraway lights for help.

I know I could use some help right about now. If a fairy godmother could swoop down out of those stars and knock some sense into me, that’d be great.

I think I’m losing my mind.

Right now, I want so badly for Damian to be my actual, real boyfriend.

I want him to say things about being infatuated with me and kissing me… and thennottack on stuff about military tactics or defense strategies.

“Yeah?” I prompt warily. The longer I stand here waiting for him to speak, the more my desire for things to be other than they are will surge up.

It’s like a tidal wave, this desire. A tidal wave that’s hovering on the edge of my mind.

And if I don’t leave him right this instant, that wave is going to wash over me and drag me out to sea.

“I know that was stressful,” he says.

“Sure. Yeah. Stressful. Good night.” I turn and head down the walkway.

“Wait.”

I turn to face him again. “That’s the third time you’ve said that word. Wait for what? Damian, I really need to call it a night.”

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