Page 39 of Love is Fake

“Dance with me.” It’s an order, not a request. It’s also completely out of left field, which I’m learning is very typical of him.

“I don’t really dance,” I say. It’s not a lie. Plus, even if I did,ballroomdancing in front of a whole heap of strangers, in shoes I’m only slowly learning to walk in, sounds like a very terrible idea. “Have you talked to everyone you need to?” I ask, hoping to have parked the dancing conversation for now.

Lennox takes a sip of his water. “Pretty much. Why? You ready to leave?”

“Not if you’re not,” I assure him, although after being in these heels for the last few hours the idea of getting home and taking them off is so damn tempting. “This is your gig, so you just let me know when you’re done.”

Lennox nods in agreement. I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t return his gaze. Instead, I try my best to look at anything other than the man in front of me.

“I’ll tell you what, you dance with me and we can go.”

I blink up at him in surprise. “I thought we covered this with the whole ‘I don’t dance’ thing.”

He shrugs, casually. “You want to go and I’m pretty sure those shoes, although they look damn sexy, are probably murdering your feet. The sooner you dance with me, the sooner we can get gone.”

“You’re bribing me?”

“You can call it what you want, but that’s the deal. One dance, Isabella. What are you scared of?” He smiles wickedly as if he knows exactly what I’m frightened of. Him. And then he holds his hand out for me to take. I only hesitate for a second before knocking back the last glug of champagne from my glass. I figure I’m going to need all the Dutch courage I can get if we’re really doing this.

I lay my hand in his, my skin instantly tingling at his touch. “Alright, Nox, you win.”

“I always do,” he grins and it would sound arrogant if it weren’t also true.

Still, I roll my eyes, hard. “Asshat,” I mutter under my breath, smiling in satisfaction as he missteps because he’s laughing at my curse.

“There’s that charm again,” he drips sarcasm as he leads me to the center of the busy dancefloor and I try to ignore the eyes following us. Being with Lennox is a lot like being a bug undera microscope and I wonder how he lives with the scrutiny of strangers day after day.

He puts his hand on my waist and leans in close to my ear. “I know it goes against your nature, but let me lead.”

I laugh breathily as his lips quirk into a smile. I like this playful, lighthearted version of Lennox. And I definitely like it a lot more than the version of him that was silently boiling over the sight of me and Jack.

I relax into his hold, for once in my life doing as instructed without putting up a fight. I let Lennox move us around the room. It’s a slow dance, but even so, it’s clear Lennox knows what he’s doing. Of course he would, he’s as good at this as he is at everything else. It would be easy to feel intimidated around someone so damned competent, but I find it inspiring. It’s not hard to see why so many people, athletes or not, look up to him.

“See, it’s not as bad as you thought it would be, right?” Lennox whispers the words against my hair, his breath on my skin making me shiver.

Bad really isn’t the word I’d use to describe what it feels like to dance with Lennox. To be this close to him, to be held by him, to taste his scent on my tongue every time we speak.

“There’s plenty of time for me to step on your toes,” I joke, trying to cover up the way he affects me. Truth be told, I’m not sure I’m fooling anyone, least of all him.

We dance, his hand on my waist, mine resting on his shoulder, and it feels so nerve-wrackingly natural. There’s a sense of rightness about the moment as I raise my eyes up to his to find he’s watching me and only me. Normally I’d squirm, duck my head under the heaviness of his gaze, but this time I don’t. I let him look and I look right back at him with an openness I haven’t dared to before.

“You look beautiful tonight, Isabella.” The appreciation in his eyes tells me he’s not just humoring me, although it would be easier to deal with if he were.

“Declan did a good job with the dress,” I shrug off the compliment. “And you clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Thanks, but I can’t wait to take off this damn straightjacket.” As he rolls his impressive shoulders, my brain goes to thinking about him taking off his suit and the body I already know he’s hiding underneath it.

“I know what you mean, this dress is beautiful, but beauty doesn’t always feel the way it looks.” It’s a throwaway comment, but Lennox stills against me, stopping us in the middle of the song.

I look up at him in confusion to find him staring down at me with an impenetrable expression. The only suggestion of what he’s thinking comes from the storminess in his dark eyes, gluing me to the spot.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, his breathing a little heavy and I find myself nodding because apparently I’ve lost the ability to speak.

We make our escape out of the back exit that leads to the resort’s gardens. Out here, it’s just the two of us and the quiet of the night.

Lennox gives me a sidelong glance. “What’re you thinking?”

Something I wouldn’t tell you in a hundred years, I think to myself.

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