Page 40 of Strictly Pretend

“No,” she splutters.

“Okay then. Let’s get some food.”

“Is that it? Aren’t you going to drag it out of me?” she asks. “Aren’t you going to tell me how wrong it is that you gave me all the answers and I gave you none?” She sounds almost disappointed at my reaction.

“I prefer to find out in the moment,” I say, putting my arm on the back of her seat as I look behind me to reverse out. “And anyway…”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I smile to myself. “I won’t force you to tell me things if you don’t want to.”

She doesn’t reply. Just stares at me. And though my eyes are on the road as I drive, I can feel the heat of her gaze on my face for the entire trip to the restaurant.

CHAPTER

TEN

EMMA

Rich boys do it differently. That’s all I can think as we walk into San Pietro. Brooks’ hand pressed lightly against my spine as he leads me through the door. He has this innate ease to him, like he knows he can conquer anything.

Did I used to feel like that when my parents were alive and we had a lot of money? Honestly, I can’t remember. I was thirteen when they died and it’s like I blocked out most of the time before that. Maybe it was a necessary thing to do to protect myself.

He gives his name to the maître d’ and we’re ushered to a table for two in the corner. Brooks pulls out my red velvet chair and when I sit down he walks around to the other side, his eyes on me as he takes the seat opposite me.

My phone buzzes in my purse.

“Sorry.” I shoot him an apologetic smile. “I’ll turn it off.”

But when I pull it out it’s his name on the screen. He’s sent me a message? How did he do that? I’ve been watching him this whole time.

From now on, we’re on public display. Show me how well you can act. – Brooks

My eyes catch his and he gives me a stupidly sexy smile. The kind that I can feel to the tips of my toes. God, he’s good.

I hate to think it, but he’s right. If we’re going to do this, I need to put more effort in. He’s the one who’s been carrying the both of us. I take a deep breath and smile back.

“How was your day?” I ask him.

“Hard. Too many meetings, too many demands. But it just got a lot better.”

My smile widens. “Mine did, too.”

He gives me an appreciative look. And I like it way too much. “Is that a new tie?” I ask him.

“No, an old one.”

“I like it. It matches your eyes.”

For a moment he says nothing. Just looks at me.

“Can I get you some drinks?” the waiter asks.

“Water for me,” Brooks says. Then he looks at me. “How about you?”

“Water sounds good.”

“Choose whatever you want. It’s on me.”

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