Page 83 of Reputation (Tempt)

But it wasn’t just about the fake engagement, though that was certainly messing with my head. It was about the way Nate treated me, especially in those rare moments when no one was watching and he didn’t have to put on an act. Like this morning.

Waking up tangled in his arms. His breath warm on my skin. His desire evident. My own overpowering. Nearly causing me to make a huge mistake.

My phone lit up, blinking at me the entire time as the number of unread messages and social media notifications continued to rise. I hadn’t checked it since posting our engagement photo, and…

I pushed the thought from my mind. Checking my phone would be a mistake. Just like sleeping with Nate.

But boy, was it tempting.Hewas tempting.

Mussed hair. Hooded eyes. Bare chest.

For the first few seconds after I’d woken up, I’d been convinced I was still asleep. Convinced this was all just a dream. I’d been so turned on that I was damn near ready to give in. At least until he’d shut it down.

I covered my face with my hands. Talk about mortifying.

This might be worse than when he’d come to the hospital and I looked like a sunburned puffer fish. Did the universe have it in for me? I was seriously beginning to wonder, because now I was going to have to sit with him and pretend we were in love while being interviewed.

My stomach clenched at the idea of facing him, let alone lying to a journalist while she scrutinized our every word. Our every move.

I groaned. Why had I ever agreed to this?

Right. Brooklyn.

My phone screen flashed again, taunting me. Tempting me. Maybe I’d just…I’d just check. See how my post announcing our engagement was doing.

But from the second I opened the first app, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head at the number of new followers. The number of comments on my post. It was nuts.

Most of it was good, but some people were questioning why Nate would want to marry me. Debating whether I was hot enough for him. Others arguing that I was too hot for him. Discussing our relationship. Our future.

It was stupid.I knewit was stupid, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I also couldn’t imagine dealing with this level of scrutiny for as long as Nate had.

Sure, there were perks to being a celebrity billionaire. He got invited to the hottest parties. He got the best tickets and free stuff and often rode in a freaking helicopter to avoid traffic. But was it worth it?

Was the invasion of privacy—the attacks on your self-worth—worth the fame?

I was about to respond to one of the comments when Nate snatched the phone from my hand. I hadn’t heard him come in until I felt him at my back, peering over my shoulder. His breath tickled my neck, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Um. Excuse me.” I planted my hands on my hips, my annoyance flaring hot and hard. “That’smyphone.”

I didn’t want to do this whole song and dance again, especially after he’d just rejected me. I held out my hand expectantly, grateful he’d at least put a shirt on.

Instead of returning the device, he switched it off and slid it into his pocket. I frowned.

“Nate,” I all but growled. “Phone. Now.”

“Just—” He held up a hand, and something in his expression halted me. “You shouldn’t read things other people say about us.”

“I was reading the comments onmypost.”

“I can hire someone to handle that for you. To manage your social media and your brand.”

“I like doing it myself. I want it to feel personal.”

“I can understand and respect that, but most celebs hire someone,” he said in a placating tone.

“Yeah, but I’m not a celeb.”

“You are now.” He leaned his hip against the counter. He typed something on his phone. “My social media manager will call later to discuss strategy.”

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