Page 50 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

And then, he spoke, face still averted. “Wear my jacket. Your dress will be wet.”

He held it out towards her, and she took it, standing, finally, on legs that were unsteady, mind finally kicking back to life.

“Max—please—,”

He jerked towards her then, eyes tracing her face, his own giving nothing away. It was impenetrable; implacable. As though he felt nothing.

“We should get back to the party.”

He watchedas she finished a second champagne bottle—tiny ones, but nonetheless, he watched with care, from a distance. A distance he felt he had to maintain because he didn’t recognize what he became around Andie.

Max was a stranger to himself.

The darkness that had overpowered him with her, both times they’d made love, was unrecognizable.

Not once had he ever been with a woman for any reason other than to seek pleasure.

But it was more than that with Andie. It was about possession. About marking her in some way. It was sadistic and sick, and he still hadn’t had his fill.

His body was tight with longing for her. To anyone else, she might look exactly as she had when they arrived—beautiful and ephemeral, so American and wholesome. But to Max, he saw subtle signs of his possession, from her stubble-grazed decolletage to the slight unruliness of her hair, and though she refused to look at him, he ached for her to turn this way. He lived for the moments when her eyes would seem to land on him almost by mistake and her lips would part in surprise and her body would straighten in unintentional recognition, then she’d look away again, respond to whomever she was talking to, blanking him.

But the night couldn’t last forever, and at the end of it, they would be going home together…

“You can’t possibly go home,”Patrizia pleaded, looking from one to the other. Max kept his hand wrapped around Andie, holding her close to him for support now, because he’d lost count of how much champagne she’d had and she seemed, if he was being generous, tired, if honest, a little drunk.

“We must. My Cinderella is about to turn into, well, something else,” he said with a grin that he hoped matched something like normal.

“I have had your room prepared though. Stay here, have breakfast with the family tomorrow. We’ve barely had a chance to catch up.”

On some level, it was tempting. Andie would be on far better behaviour when surrounded by his family. Then again, she could be herself at his villa, and he wanted that most of all.

“We’ll come back again soon,” he promised, leaning over and kissing his mother’s cheek.

“I think we should stay.” Andie’s voice interrupted his conversation, clear as day.

“See?” Patrizia was triumphant. “Andie wants to stay. Come on, darling. We’ll have breakfast in the morning. Besides, Andie looks tired. Far better to tuck her up into bed straight away, no?”

Max ground his teeth, glaring down at Andie. She smiled serenely at his mother and something in the middle of his chest tightened.

“Fine,” he ground out. “We’ll stay.”

“Wonderful.” Patrizia clapped her hands. “I’ll see you in the morning, darlings. We can talk weddings.”

“Can’t wait,” Andie said with bags of sweetness in her tone that almost made Max want to burst out laughing.

“Drink this,”his voice was gruff, penetrating the woolly fog of her brain, but only just.

She eyed the glass suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Water. And take these.” In his other hand there were two white pills.

“What are—,”

“Aspirin,” he forestalled her question. “Trust me.”

She glanced up at him, tempted to make some snappy remark, but his expression stopped her in her tracks. He was one part furious, and one part concerned, and the contrast made her head spin.

“Okay,” she mumbled, reaching out, taking the pills and swallowing them with a sip of water.

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