Page 54 of Pretend for Me

I don’t have to look at my best friend to know she’s rolling her eyes. Thankfully, she’s interrupted mid-eye roll when we hear desperate scratching at the door.

Sarina’s just about to open it when I stop her. “It’s Vajayjay,” I say with a sigh. “She’s been trying to come in ever since she saw Dev walk in here. And if she’s in here, she probably won’t let him finish the shoot.”

Sarina folds her bottom lip in a pouty face. “Aww, poor girl. She just wants a little love from her man.”

“She practically licked him to death as soon as he entered,” I counter. “She’s gotten more action than I have. I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I might be jealous of my cat!”

Sarina giggles. “I mean, maybe you should take notes.She’s clearly doing something right.” At my death stare, my asshole best friend, world renowned for her brutal honesty, continues, “Maybe rub up against his leg or purr in his ear or something.”

“Wow,” I say in mock indignation. “Thanks for the words of wisdom, Yoda. Also . . .” I mumble the rest of my words, hoping she doesn’t hear them, “I already tried both of those things, and the asshole still didn’t budge.”

Sarina throws her head back, laughing, catching the attention of various people working the shoot. Despite my efforts, my face heats up, and of course, that doesn’t go unmissed by the gorgeous overlord, A.K.A. my husband-to-be. His eyes hold mine before the corners of his lips turn up in a smug smile, like he thinks he’s the reason for my blush.

He is, of course, but I hate how he knows it.

A second later, Sarina must decide enough is enough because she swings the door ajar, letting Vajayjay slip inside. And what does my cat do?

Yup, less than ten seconds later, she’s purring in Dev’s lap, climbing his shoulders while the cameras continue clicking.

“I heard you visited my mom yesterday,” Dev says, looking at me through the mirror.

He’s sitting on my salon chair, looking like a GQ model in a cat sanctuary, with not just my cat sprawled out on his lap, but Beaver and Snatch pawing his leg for attention. The image is both absurd and absurdly adorable. It’s like I’m watching a feline version of his fan club, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m not a member.

Dev scratches the back of Vajayjay’s ear absentmindedly,his long fingers moving in a way that has me thinking about all the things those fingers could do. My traitorous cat arches into his touch, purring even louder while making eye contact with me. I swear the little ho knows I would switch spots with her in a second and is making a show of getting what I can’t have.

See if I give you that catnip you’ve been jonesing for, little heathen. Momma’s going to keep it all for herself because clearly, you don’t know how to share.

Dev is on a twenty-minute break, waiting for the photographers to call him again after they’ve changed up the set. He’s also supposed to be changing into a suit once I’ve restyled his hair, but as it stands, I’m having a hard time recalling why we’d want to cover up what he’s currently wearing.

I take a second to admire him in his polo and trousers. The fabric clings to his bulging biceps and thighs like it’s painted on, reminding me of the unexpected and incredibly welcomed show I got this morning when I was on my way to work. I ogled him through the glass doors of his home gym, doing pull-ups with the focused intensity of a man scaling Everest. Each upward movement made the muscles of his back and biceps ripple under his sweat-soaked skin, and his ass was so fucking delectable and taut in his gym shorts, I practically short-circuited.

I run my fingers through his dark hair, touching it up with some gel. “Yeah. I wanted to see if she had any requests for the wedding and run some plans by her.”

His expression is a mix of surprise and . . . appreciation, perhaps? “That’s kind of you to include her.”

I shrug. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t she the reason we’re doing this?”

A strange silence passes between us, and my words settle like leaden weight amidst the tension. Do the lies we’re spinning, the unexpected emotions, and the eventuality of this arrangement affect him, too? Because I can’t seemto find my way through them most nights when I place my head on my pillow.

Dev drops his gaze to my cat, almost like he can’t seem to hold mine anymore, but not before I see a flicker of something—longing? Anguish?—before his mask of cool composure replaces it once again.

And suddenly, I’m overly aware of all our points of contact, the air between us thickening with something I’m not ready to name. I search for a way to redirect us back into normal, less-turbulent waters where we banter without acknowledging the shifting foundation beneath our current arrangement.

Dev must sense the change too, because he takes a breath, finding my eyes in the mirror again. “Anything else you both talked about?”

Seizing the opportunity, I waggle my brows. “Oh, you know,” I say, my stomach unclenching slowly, “just some girl-talk. Why? Afraid we were talking about you?” I adjust a few more strands of his hair, a mischievous grin forming across my face. “Don’t worry, we have far moreinterestingthings to talk about than the great Dev Menon.”

Dev suppresses a smile, but I feel the tension dissipate between us. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Emboldened by our shift back to familiar territory, I decide maybe now would be a good time to drop a little bombshell. “I was telling her how my birthday was coming up,” I say lightly, hoping the little tidbit of information will pique his interest. “She wanted to know my plans.”

“Your birthday is coming up? When?”

Bingo!

“This Saturday,” I say, aiming for casual, but feeling a weird flutter of anticipation inside my chest. “I’m turning the big three-oh.”

He clears his throat, shoving away what I think isuncertainty. For a man who exudes confidence and self-assuredness through boardrooms and billion-dollar deals, it’s both heartwarming and thrilling to see this moment of hesitation toward me. “Do you . . . do you have any plans?”

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