Page 71 of An American in London

The idea pinches at my gut, and I put my hand to my stomach to soothe myself. We’ve spent most of our time together studying each other—getting to know each other because we have to—but whatever the motivation, I do know him now. And I like what I know.

Maybe Melanie had a point.

My net has been open, catching feelings without me realizing. I glance at Ben as he chats with the duke, the duchess chipping in here and there as they talk about their most recent trip to the US. I smile and nod and say all the right things, but I’m barely taking it all in. It’s like I’m hovering over them, watching them participate in this dinner. All I can focus on is how I might be falling in love with the man who’s pretending to be my fiancé, and it all feels wrong on so many levels.

Maybe I’m blinded by the magic of this vacation, being in the land of Daniel De Luca, because I can’t be in love with Ben. It doesn’t seem logical. Then again, logic is what I had with Jed, and we all know how that turned out.

Even if I have fallen for Ben, does it matter? Does it change anything? It’s not like there’s a future for us. All we have is now ... and now will just have to be enough.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I don’t know how to tell Ben I’m about to ruin his life. Probably the same way Jed told me he was in love with a ballerina and going to live in Iowa. Quickly. And without mercy.

“Things have gotten out of control,” I say to him as he slides into the car next to me. “The duke and duchess are lovely people, but I feel ...”

“Like they want to adopt us?” Ben shoots me an amused look, instantly popping the balloon of anxiety that’s been building in me all evening.

“Exactly.” I glance out the window, back to the duke and duchess’s town house.

I don’t know if Ben told his driver to go back to his place or to my hotel. And I’m not sure where I’d prefer to be. I need to focus on my future and my career, not getting naked with a man who I won’t see again after I take off for New York. Don’t I? Ben is going to be an ocean away in just a couple of weeks. I’m already in up to my neck in emotions ... Why make things worse?

At the same time, the pull toward Ben is so intense. I want him. Maybe it was the sex. Maybe it was the half-truths we just told at dinner that had me imagining I could actually be Ben’s fiancée. But that’s a fantasy, and holding on to Ben when I know it’s going to be over soquickly seems like drawn-out torture. Isn’t it better to rip the Band-Aid off and go our separate ways?

“I hate lying to them.”

“I know,” he says. His tone turns somber. “I hate lying to them too. They’re good people.” His frown has returned.

“I’m leaving for New York in just over two weeks. They’re going to find out we’re not engaged.”

Ben pulls in a breath, and I try not to focus on the rise of his chest and what’s underneath his shirt. Things have gotten so messy. I don’t need to make things worse. Better we have a clean break. Okay, so we gave in and had sex, but it was a one-off, right?

“I know. I knew I was going to have to put a stop to things when the duchess mentioned staying with them in Cannes.”

“Frankly, that’s almost worth getting married for.”

Ben almost smiles.Oh, dimple, how I love thee.“I’m going to have to explain.”

“Two weeks is going to fly by.”

Ben clenches his jaw and I pretend for a second that it’s because he’ll be sad to see me go, and not because my departure means his plans are going up in flames.

“Even if I was staying the year—”

“It’s not right,” he says. Then rushes to add, “The lying. Not the bit about you staying the year.” He pauses. “Have you thought about extending your trip?”

“I’m here for work, Ben.” I let out a small laugh of panic. So much has happened in London that I’ve been able to avoid the wreckage of the life I left in New York. But the second that plane touches down, I won’t be able to dodge reality any longer.

“Right,” he says. “I’ll tell them.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “You never told me why the hotels were so important to you. Was it just about the money?”

“No,” he says simply. “I have a personal connection. I—I don’t want to talk about it.”

My limbs feel heavy. I feel terrible that Ben won’t get the hotels he obviously wants so badly. “I’m so sorry,” I say. I wish I could speak to the duke and duchess, convince them Ben is a really good guy.

“Don’t be. You’ve done more than I asked of you.” He sounds so sad. I wish I could take it away.

“I could talk to them,” I offer. “I could explain—”

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