Page 68 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

She felt it deep in her gut and hated—even though it wasn’t her fault—that she was in any way an instrument of hurting him.

Finally, they were alone, but Andie was tired and her head ached. She needed to release Max though, to let him know he could leave.

She didn’t want him sitting vigil at her bedside out of guilt.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, ignoring the plate of food the nurse had brought. “You can go, Max. I’m not going to die. And this isn’t your fault.”

He flinched, his face pale.

“Please go,” she said, not able to look at him now. Because in her heart, she wanted him to stay, but that was selfish.

It wasn’t appropriate. He didn’t love her, they weren’t friends, they weren’t fake engaged, they weren’t anything to each other now. Just business partners who would have less and less to do with one another as time moved forward.

“Sleep, Andie. You’re tired,” he said instead, surprising her by moving to the bedside and taking her hand. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You should go,” she said, but the feeling of her hand in his did something funny to her broken body and battered heart. It was warming, and comforting and maybe she was allowed to accept that, just for now. She’d be strong later, when she woke up.

Max was still there.

Still holding her hand.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept for, nor what time it was. It was dark outside. Max still looked awful.

Andie felt better, physically. Her headache had lessened. She was less groggy. More alert.

She wanted water but couldn’t get it with her hand in Max’s and the other arm bound in a cast. She didn’t want to relinquish his grip, but she was parched beyond bearing, so she had no choice. She pulled her hand free, reached for the plastic cup.

Max stirred, bleary-eyed, staring at her, then standing, looking around to orientate himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, just thirsty,” she said, gripping the cup, bringing the straw to her lips.

He took over holding the cup, but even that small gesture of kindness frustrated Andie. “I don’t need you here. You’re not my carer, Max. You’re…nothing to me, remember?”

It surprised him, obviously. That she could have the energy to respond with such ferocity after everything she’d been through. It was a sign of how deeply the sentiment echoed with Andie.

“Well, that’s a shame, because you’re everything to me, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay by the side of the woman I love and nearly had to face losing.”

There was so much anger and determination in his voice, that she almost missed the sentiment of what he was saying. Almost, but not quite.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, but memories of their conversation in his office were too close to the surface of her mind. She couldn’t ignore them.

“You don’t have to say that. I’m fine. I’m not dying. This isn’t your fault.” She repeated what she knew he needed to hear, because she understood the burden he carried regarding Antonio’s death.

“You’re going to live a very long, happy life, and hopefully by my side.” He brushed a hand over her forehead lightly, staring at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. “It is my fault. You should never have been on the street. You should have been in my arms, hearing me tell you that I love you too. That everything you feel for me, I feel for you. That I want to be the only person you ever kiss for the rest of your life. That I love you, Andie, everything that you are—your kindness, goodness, your intelligence, your determination, all of you. That getting to know you, getting to be with you, has been the biggest adventure and privilege of my life.”

She gasped, because it was everything she needed to hear and the very last thing she expected.

“Max,” she whispered, her heart on pause, desperate to believe, to hope, to trust, but still so worried that he was compensating for what he deemed to be his fault.

Except he’d come after her.

He’d seen the accident because he’d been running towards her.

Before she’d been hurt.

That hadn’t been about guilt.

“Did you come after me to tell me that?” She asked quickly.

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