Page 23 of The Bad Boy's Fake Wife

Emma looks up, unimpressed. “No.”

I sigh. “This is no way to spend a honeymoon—locked in a dark room, hunched over your laptop like a little old lady.”

She shoots me a glare. “We aren’t on a real honeymoon.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it.” I pull up the blinds, flooding the room with sunlight. Emma winces. “I didn’t know I married a vampire,” I tease.

“If I were a vampire, I’d tear your throat open like a carton of milk.”

“That’s mean.” I sigh. “Come on. The sky is awake. We’re awake. Let’s go outside.”

Emma groans, dragging a hand through her hair and avoiding my gaze. “Going outside is the last thing I want to do.” She shifts on the couch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “And besides, I’m not a great swimmer.”

“I can teach you. The water looks tame enough.”

She huffs, then after a beat, mutters, “Fine. Give me a moment.”

I hear her grumbling about whether Mia packed a bikini as I step out to give her privacy. When she finally emerges, robe tied loosely over her swimsuit, I almost forget how to breathe. Her red hair is pulled into a ponytail, stray curls framing her face and catching the sunlight like polished copper. The breeze teases a few loose tendrils, making them dance against her cheeks. My gaze lingers longer than it should, my pulse quickening at the effortless way she carries herself, unaware of just how stunning she looks. She applies ChapStick, catches me staring, and frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

The walk to the beach is longer than I expected, winding through bustling neighborhoods where vendors eagerly call out to us. An elderly woman holds up a handmade necklace, the beads gleaming in the sunlight. “For you, young lady,” she says, offering Emma a warm smile. “A token of beauty for your beauty.”

Emma pauses, pressing a hand to her chest. “That’s sweet. How much?”

The woman winks. “For you, just a smile will do.”

Emma grins, accepting the necklace and slipping it over her head. “Thank you.”

Farther down, a man gestures to a stall of woven hats. “Sir, your wife will need this in the sun. Very fine quality.”

Emma snorts. “Wife? That’s a strong word.”

The vendor eyes us both knowingly. “Ah, but love is a journey, is it not?”

Jonathan smirks. “More like a hike through rough terrain.”

The vendor chuckles. “Keep walking, my friend. Smoother roads lie ahead.”

Emma struggles to keep up, panting slightly. “My stamina is disgraceful,” she grumbles.

I chuckle. “Just a little farther.”

When we reach the shore, Emma takes a deep breath, a rare, genuine smile lighting up her face. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

I nod, not wanting to ruin the moment.

After setting up a blanket, she shrugs off her robe, and I quickly avert my eyes. “Ready for your lesson?” I ask.

“I can swim,” she admits. “I just lied to annoy you.”

I stare at her. She laughs, her hair slipping loose in the breeze, looking like something out of a dream.

“What?” she asks, catching me watching her.

“Nothing. For a second, I thought you weren’t real.”

---