Page 29 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

With an animal growl and a blazing gaze, he grabbed me by the arms and drew me to my feet. He kissed me deep, insistent, and I couldn’t help but melt into it for a moment.

“How about I show you,” he rasped when we came up for air. “Right here, right now?”

Then he dropped his mouth to my neck, and I felt all of the signals blazing through my body. I was so down to have sex with him again. Or at least, my body was ready.

My mind, on the other hand, still had some semblance of pride.

I pushed him gently but firmly away and stepped back.

“There’s no need for that,sir,” I said, trying to stop myself from panting like the wanton wench I was on the inside. “Just send me a disciplinary notice.”

With that, I turned and walked toward the exit.

Chapter 11

Amanda

Evan pulled me in close, our bodies pressed so tight I could feel the heat coming through his silk shirt. He slid his hand down to my lower back and held me. I put my hands on his shoulders and we turned our faces toward the edge of the red carpet, cheeks pressed together.

Flashbulbs went off like summer lightning as the paparazzi struggled to capture the moment of our happy love. At the moment, I could almost pretend it was all real. My heart thudding so hard in my chest was certainly real.

I had to be careful, though, and not give in to the warm feelings in my chest. This was a role. I was an actress playing a part in one of the most carefully orchestrated PR campaigns in the history of the world.

Evan didn’t really mean to hold me so close. He only did it for the sake of the cameras. Only, it seemed like I could feel his heart beating awfully fast, too. It was only a few inches from my own at the moment.

“Evan! Amanda! Over here!”

“Amanda, who are you wearing? Do a twirl for us.”

“Evan is in the house, y’all! How about you turn this way and give me some of that love I know y’all feeling!”

“You’re doing an amazing job, Amanda,” Evan said in a stiff-faced whisper. “I’d never know just how cold you act to me in private.”

“Then I guess I’m performing up to your standards, sir,” I said, also in a whisper where my expression remained unchanged.

The guy who wanted me to twirl just wouldn’t shut up. I knew better than to act annoyed with it. That was one of the rules drilled into me by PR expert Fritz. He said that middle America really resented a celebrity who didn’t seem to want to be photographed being fabulous.

I smiled at Evan, and he kissed me on the cheek before releasing me so I could twirl.

“I’m wearing Versace, by the way,” I called out. I remembered how to do my twirl. You turn your head first, then let your body catch up to avoid making yourself dizzy. I held out the train of my green sheath dress. I wasn’t crazy about revealing so much cleavage, but I had to admit, I did look good in that dress.

The flashbulbs went off like mad. The press was eating it up. Fritz had been right all along. People loved the rags to riches thing. I’m just glad I talked them out of creating an alternate history for me, where I grew up on a literal farm with overalls and a straw hat and everything.

I wasn’t really a public figure, but enough people knew me from the charity work that I couldn’t have pulled that off, anyway. Besides, there were limits to my acting ability. I could pretend to be crazy in love with a man who was, in reality, my employer. I wasn’t so sure I could pretend to be a completely different person.

“Come on.” He took my hand in his own. His hand was huge, enveloping me in its warmth. “That’s enough time spent on the red carpet. Time to move inside and mingle.”

“Aren’t there just as many photographers inside as outside?”

He chuckled. “There are more. Many more.”

He tugged me along in his wake. I allowed myself to be pulled down the red carpet. Everything had a gleam of glitz and glamor on it. The brass stands holding the dark red velvet ropes looked freshly polished, gleaming in the flashbulb accentuated lights. Someone had hung streamers of star capes along the marquee of Mann’s Chinese Theater, probably to promote whatever movie premiere we were attending. I honestly couldn’t remember it at the time.

Once we were inside, the feeling of being on Mount Olympus only increased. I felt as if I were a mere mortal strolling around with the gods. Everyone looked fabulous and decked out to the nines. I didn’t see an imperfect head of hair, or a single wrinkle in anyone’s garb. The whole lobby sparkled from top to bottom.

The lobby had been turned into something of a ballroom for the event. This included tables set up for the more well-heeled VIPs, which included us, as it turned out. It was kind of strange, being allowed past the beaded curtain into the realm of the ultra-rich and famous.

A balding man with a sharp Italian suit in dull gray approached us. He had a gorgeous woman about a third of his age on his arm. He smiled at Evan with an air of familiarity.

---