Page 17 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

“You ready?”

She took one last look at herself in the mirror then moved to the door, pulling it inwards. Max was standing on the other side and the sight of him like this took her breath away.

He was wearing a dark suit with a pale blue tie, and he looked so incredibly handsome and untouchable that her whole body jerked. He was suave in that way Italians just seemed to be, like they were born knowing how to dress, walk, smile, and exist in a way that oozed charm. Everything about him was immaculate. And while Andie knew she looked nice, Max was in a whole other galaxy.

“My driver’s waiting,” he said, but the detached disinterest of the words was belied by the way his eyes swept from her head to her toes in a slow, deliberate inspection, tracing the lines of her body that were revealed by the dress, lingering on her feet before moving slowly upwards. With every inch his eyes covered, her skin tingled and heated, as though he was touching her, his hands lightly caressing her body. She trembled with an overwhelming sense of awareness, averting her eyes, swallowing hard.

“I’m ready,” but her voice gave her away. It emerged breathy and rushed, showing the effect he had on her when she desperately wished to conceal that.

“Let’s go then.” His hand in the small of her back was nothing new. He’d done that in her father’s office. But that had been for the benefit of Conrad. This was something different altogether. They were alone, and the intimacy of the act made her insides spin.

She moved quickly, stepping out of his reach, and at the door, when she looked at him, it was to see a mocking smile on his face.

“Did you find everything you needed?” She asked for something to say that didn’t relate to the way her insides were churning.

“Si. Tutto.”

“Good,” she expelled a breath. “Then let’s go.”

She had seriously underestimatedwhat would be involved in faking an engagement for a whole night with her father. For a start, Max and Andie were sandwiched together in a booth, their knees touching beneath the table the entire time, while Conrad sat opposite them, watching, studying, so Andie knew that if she let her façade drop in even the slightest way, her dad would see it and know that something was amiss.

Then there was the way Max kept one arm stretched along the back of the banquette seat all night, his fingertips lightly grazing her shoulder, practically burning her alive, even when she wanted not to be aware of him. She willed her body not to respond, to ignore the heat licking at the soles of her feet, but it was impossible.

His touch was incendiary.

She barely tasted her food and was grateful to Max for the effortless ease with which he carried the conversation with her father. They covered a wide range of subjects, from where they’d gone to college to business to the pandemic’s impact on that business—Conrad had some thoughts about Max’s hotel chain and to his credit, Max listened without showing any impatience at the suggestions, and she was grateful for that. She somehow just knew that Max was someone who didn’t enjoy interference, which beggared the question of how exactly they were going to work harmoniously together.

Andie was able to respond appropriately when called on but for the most part, she sat there dazed and confused, wondering how the hell things had gotten to here so quickly.

When Conrad excused himself to use the restroom, after the main course, and Andie and Max were alone, he turned to her immediately, features locked in a mask of impatience. “You’re not doing this well.”

She blinked at him, startled by the admonition even when she knew it was true. “I know. I’m finding it harder than I thought I would.”

“You have to try,” he said quietly. “Your father is analysing everything. You are sitting there staring into space. Have you never been in love, Andie?”

It was a deeply personal question and for some reason she hesitated to answer it.

“Of course you haven’t,” he responded with a shake of his head. “You are only twenty-two. How do you even know what love is?”

“Because I saw it every day, growing up,” she said honestly. “I’ve never been in love myself, but my parents were beautiful together. I know what love is.”

“Then act it,” he said seriously. “You should be staring at me, not across the restaurant. You should find it impossible not to touch me, to lean into me, to kiss me.”

Andie gasped, as if he’d just suggested she strip naked and run through the restaurant.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, even less patience in his tone now.

“I just don’t think there’s any need for that.” She sounded so prim, she almost groaned in despair.

“We are newly engaged. Do you know any newly engaged couple that does not find it hard to keep their hands off each other? To stop kissing?”

“I don’t know,” she responded, even though his words made perfect sense. “But we don’t need to put onthatkind of show for my father. Believe me when I tell you, he wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Maybe not. But you have to relax,” Max lowered his voice as Conrad had left the restrooms and was approaching the table once more. “Try harder.”

“Thank you for the critique,” she snapped under her breath.

“You’re welcome.” He willfully ignored her sarcasm.

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