Page 6 of The Bad Boy's Fake Wife

Emmadoesn’tlookhappyto see me. My stomach tightens instinctively, bracing for whatever storm she’s about to unleash. In fact, judging by the way she’s staring at me, I’m pretty sure this might be my last dinner. She’s the only woman in the world who can make me squirm with a single look. I find myself shuffling back toward the kitchen.

“What is he doing here?” Emma barks at Reed, even as her eyes remain fixed on me.

Reed offers a puzzled shrug. “I told you I wanted to invite my neighbor over for dinner, and you agreed.”

“I didn’t know your neighbor washim,” she snaps, the disdain in her voice cutting deeper than she likely realizes.

“I’m right here, you know,” I call out, but she ignores me.

Reed sighs in exasperation. “Are you two still stuck in that childish feud from when we were kids? Grow up, both of you! Especially since nothing really happened between you.”

Emma folds her arms tightly, her jaw tensing as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

Reed groans, rubbing his temples. “Oh great, here we go again. Someone pass the popcorn."

“Maybe if he stopped acting like the devil incarnate, I’d consider being civil.”

I scoff. “You’re the one who acts as if I was born with two horns and a red tail. Don’t expect me to suddenly know how to be polite.”

Emma gasps. “I’ll have you know I’m the picture of politeness, kindness, and civility. You’re the rotten one, constantly bringing out the worst in me.”

“Me?” I roll my eyes. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Reed glares at us both. “I can’t believe this is happening. There’s a nice dinner on the table, and I’m starving. Either shake hands or shut up and eat—enough of this childish drama!”

Emma shakes her head. “No. He’s not touching a single thing I cooked.”

Reed fires back, “Need I remind you it was made withmygroceries? I can invite anyone I want, and I expect you both to act like adults.”

Reed leaves us, and I notice a lone tear glistening on Emma’s cheek. She hastily wipes it away before I can pretend not to see it.

“Emma, are you—” I begin, but she cuts me off with a sharp glare.

“Don’t speak to me,” she declares coolly. “I’ll be civil if you can manage the same. Now, play nice and move on.”

I follow her into the dining room, still baffled by her growing hostility and how what Reed said seems to have hurt her deeply.

All my life, I’ve known Emma to be kind to everyone but me. At first, I dismissed her snide remarks as teasing, but when I finally recognized the true hatred in her eyes, I realized every barb was laced with real malice. And if she wants me to be the villain in her story, then so be it—I’ll play the part flawlessly.

In the dining room, Emma busily fills her plate with food, barely glancing up. Reed gestures toward the spread. “Come on, don’t be shy. Emma’s an amazing cook.”

I gape at the abundance. “Wow, this is impressive!”

Reed grins. “She cooks up a storm when she’s upset—it’s pure gold.”

I steal a glance at Emma. She’s staring down at her plate, ignoring our conversation entirely. I grab a plate and pile it high before sitting down. My first bite of lasagna is heavenly—each forkful melting perfectly on my tongue, radiating warmth. The second bite somehow tastes even better. Is food always supposed to feel like a little taste of heaven?

I’m so lost in the flavor that I start moaning softly until I sense Emma’s curious gaze on me.

Reed smirks, shaking his head. “See, Emma? He’s practically swooning. Maybe food is the way to his heart.”

“This is honestly amazing,” I murmur between bites.

“Thank you,” she replies quietly. It’s the first kind word I’ve heard from her all evening, and it actually sounds sincere.

“Emma, have you ever thought about opening a restaurant? This would fly off the shelves, even outselling books,” I ramble. But I don’t notice the shadow crossing her face until she’s back to glaring at me.

Clutching her table knife, she mutters, “I see you can’t go a single evening without being a jerk.”

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