Page 39 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

“Raven,” his deep voice rumbles through the phone, sending a shiver down my spine. “I was wondering if I could pick you up for dinner tonight. I… need to talk to you.”

My heart skips a beat. “I… yeah. I guess. I mean, weareengaged,” I add with a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

There’s a pause on the other end, and I can almost feel the weight of whatever he’s not saying. “Good. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up before I can reply. I stare at the phone, my stomach in knots.

“Well?” Madison asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“He wants to take me to dinner,” I say, my voice shaky. “To talk.”

Madison whistles low. “Sounds serious. You good?”

I nod, but I’m not sure I believe it myself. My head’s a mess, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. Whatever Kirk wants to talk about, I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it. And I definitely don’t know if I’m ready to admit, even to myself, how much he’s already gotten under my skin.

I’m standing on the sidewalk outside my apartment building, fidgeting with the strap of my bag, when the sleek silver Aston Martin pulls up. The engine purrs like a contented panther, and I roll my eyes. Of course, Kirk would drive something that screamslook at me. The door swings open, and there he is—Kirk Stevens, billionaire industrialist, alien warrior, and the man who’s been screwing with my head since the moment I met him.

He steps out of the car, all confidence and sharp angles, and my stomach does a little flip. He’s wearing that stupidly perfect suit again, the one that makes him look like he stepped out of a magazine. His golden eyes lock onto mine, and before I can even think to say hello, he’s pulling me into a kiss that’s just soft enough to make me forget, for a second, why I’m so mad at him.

“Hi,” he says when he finally pulls back, his voice low and warm.

I blink up at him, my heart racing. “Hi. Uh, what was that for?”

He smirks, his hand still on my waist. “Just keeping up appearances. You never know who’s watching.”

“Right,” I mutter, though the heat in my cheeks says otherwise. I slide into the passenger seat, and he closes the door behind me with a solid thunk. The interior smells like leather and something faintly metallic—alien tech, probably. I lean back, trying to calm my nerves, as he gets behind the wheel and peels away from the curb.

We drive in silence for a while, the city lights blurring past. I’m about to break the quiet with some sarcastic remark when he pulls up to a chic little fusion restaurant in Soho. The name—Nebula—is spelled out in glowing letters above the door.

“This your place?” I ask as he steps out and opens my door.

“One of them,” he says, offering me his hand. I take it, trying to ignore the way his fingers feel against mine. “I thought we could talk somewhere private.”

Inside, the restaurant is all sleek lines and soft lighting. The hostess gives Kirk a knowing smile and leads us to a secluded booth in the back, away from prying eyes. The table is already set with plates of food I didn’t order—sushi, noodles, some kind of curry that smells amazing.

I slide into the booth, eyeing him warily. “Okay, spill. What’s going on? You’re being even more mysterious than usual, and that’s saying something.”

He sits across from me, his expression serious. “Giscard’s plans are worse than we thought.”

“Worse than a secret alien sex dungeon?” I quip, but the look on his face shuts me up. “Okay, what is it?”

“He’s building a space station,” Kirk says, his voice low. “A refuge for the elite when the catastrophe hits.”

I freeze, a piece of sushi halfway to my mouth. “Catastrophe? What catastrophe?”

“The one that’s going to wipe out civilization as we know it,” he says, like he’s talking about the weather. “Giscard’s planning to trigger it, and his little Ark ship is the only way off this rock.”

I gape at him, my stomach churning. “Space stations? A catastrophe that’s going to wipe out civilization as we know it? And Giscard really is a shape-shifting alien after all?” My voice pitches higher with every word. “Wow. That’s… a lot.”

“I’m afraid I’m not done,” Kirk says, leaning closer. “We need to get married by the end of the week if we want a chance to stop him.”

I almost drop my chopsticks. “Married? As in,marriedmarried?”

He nods, his golden eyes boring into mine. “It’s the only way I can get on that Ark ship and stop this before it starts.”

I sit back, trying to process what he’s saying. My mind is racing, but all I can focus on is the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing that matters in the entire galaxy.

“Kirk,” I say slowly, “do you even hear yourself right now? This is insane.”

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