Page 3 of The Fake Boyfriend Excursion

I always knewmy brother was a shit person.

What I hadn’t known was that he was dumb enough to let a woman like Virginia get away.

His loss is about to be my incredible gain though.

I know I'll have to move slowly. There's no way that Virginia won't be spooked after what my brother just put her through, but there's no way I can let an opportunity like this pass me by.

As little respect as I'd had for Chad before this, there’s none left now, and it's all I can do as I sit across the table from him as we eat dinner with our parents to not punch him in his smug face. He's been the baby his whole life, our parents catering to his every need and treating him like he was special and above the rules they’d set for me because he was their later-in-life, miracle baby.

I've had a front row seat to it my whole life. I’m almost forty and he’s encroaching on thirty, so I'd really hoped he'd outgrown his childish behavior and become the man he’s had the potential of being since he was a kid.

I see now he's just as spoiled and self-centered as he's always been.

No matter how much our mom tries to guilt me during the holidays, I've obviously made the right choice staying away from him as much as possible. It’s been easy enough the last few years since he'd been living out of state, trying to “make it” at some tech company.

But a few months ago, he'd come crawling back to Stonewood Ridge, begging our parents to help him as he “reset his life.”

I don’t even know what that means, but they’d done it. Supporting him emotionally and monetarily, paying most of his bills and waving off my concerns when I brought up the fact he was still unemployed a couple of weeks ago.

But this… This is a whole new level of douchbaggery.

As he tells our parents lie after lie—some I know for sure and some I just suspect—I begin to lose my appetite. Our parents just lap it up, believing every word that comes out of his mouth.

Luckily, no one seems to notice or care when I give up and slip away to find our server near the maître d' stand.

Ten minutes later, I open the door to my suite and walk in slowly, unsure of what I'll find. Virginia had been quiet all afternoon and I hadn't wanted to push, but now I’m beginning to wonder if I should have, if letting her cry it out on my shoulder would be better than the toxic silence that had filled the space.

As I step farther into the suite, I realize why it’s so quiet, my breath catching in my chest.

Wearing a nightgown that’s basically just a long T-shirt, she's curled up on the couch, sleeping peacefully. I almost leave her be, but I know for a fact she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

I set the to-go container on a low table and then pick it up and move the whole thing a few feet away to make space in front of the sofa. Kneeling, I stare at her relaxed face for a few minutes instead of immediately waking her like I should.

God, she’s just so damn beautiful.

Her golden skin is perfect and blemish-free, looking so fucking soft my fingers curl with the need to touch. Her long, long lashes damn near touch her cheekbones, and her pink lips—so plump they’re indecent—are slightly parted. But it was her dark brown hair that had entranced me from the moment I set eyes on her. It was long, down to her mid-back, thick and shiny. It was hard for me to focus on anything else when she was around other than sinking my hands into it, wrapping the strands around my fingers and using it to pull her close.

I can't help but wonder how it would feel cascading across my chest as she snuggled against me, or brushing on the inside of my thighs as she sucked my dick.

Her body is so soft and curvy. My fingers ache with the need to touch and squeeze. Instead of giving in to my animalistic needs, I softly brush my fingers down her cheek.

"Wake up, baby girl. You need to eat dinner."

Her brows furrow and her nose wrinkles in the cutest way, so I brush my fingers down her skin again.

"Virginia, wake up."

"Why?" she asks, her voice thick and a little slow.

"You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she says, and starts to turn over, but I grab her shoulder, holding her in place, and that finally gets her to open her eyes. This close, I can see the ring of gold around her pupils, though I know her hazel eyes tend to change, and I can't wait to find out if her emotions play a part in it.

"You need to eat," I say again, more firmly. "I'm not going to let you make yourself sick. He's not worth it."

She sucks in a breath and stares at me. Her eyes a little wide and glassy. "Sad part," she says softly, "I never really thought he was. So who do I have to blame but myself?"

"Him. You need to blame him," I say, furious that for even a second she would lay blame anywhere else. "It's not your fault he can't keep his dick in his fucking pants."

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