Page 107 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

People are being rounded up. Gail comes by and asks again whether I’m sure about missing the magician. I make a joke out of my refusal. Gail acts put off, but I know she’s not. People like Gail respect people who say no.

I stand and set an arm on Tabitha’s shoulders. “Ready, kitten?”

Clark looks at me as if he barely recognizes me as we leave. I barely recognize myself. Usually I could get in a good four-hour block of work after dinner, but I’m running off with Tabitha on this crazy caper. Again.

I grab her hand as we head out. The sunset is a faint yellow ball drenching the horizon with glowing reds and oranges

“Can you believe that some people find this view a bore?” she says.

I adjust a strap on her dress. What I can’t imagine is that I’m not taking this woman back to my room right now.

“Should we change clothes?” she asks.

“Why? You look fucking fantastic.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We’re strolling into the wrong room for a few moments,” I say. “Not paragliding into the Swiss Alps to rob a bank.”

“Is that what you’d say if we got caught?” she asks. “Oops, we strolled into the wrong room?”

I push a strand of hair that escaped her updo behind her ear. “No. I’d say we meant to paraglide into the Swiss Alps.”

Playfully she shoves at my arm. “Be serious! Do you have a thought about what we’d say if we got caught?”

“I’m not planning on us getting caught.”

She looks up at me with a kind of trust in her eyes. She might not trust me on an emotional level, but I like that she knows she can count on me in at least this. “But what if? What would we say?”

“I’d figure something out.”

“So you don’t know?” she says.

“I never plan my responses ahead of time if that’s what you’re wondering.” My phone goes off. It’s Clark. He’s one seat away from Marvin. He’ll text if Marvin so much as sneezes. Though right now, he’s just letting us know the magician has hit the stage. “Showtime.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” she says.

Marvin’s room is on the fourth level under the large family suites, way on the other side from where our room is. The level is accessible from two stairways, front and back. The front stairwell is visible from much of the recreational area. We’ll be going up the back. I lead her around.

The walkway is empty. She squeezes my arm harder as we go. My credit card is already out before we reach Marvin’s door. Quickly I work it into the crack. Her eyes rivet to what I’m doing. “Eep!” she whispers.

“Okay.” I pause. “Are you going to be able to hold it together?”

“Hurry up!”

“Are you?” I ask.

“Yes!” The way she whisper-hisses it suggests maybe not. She clutches my other arm. “Except, oh my god! I can’t believe we’re actually doing this!”

“What happens on the soap operas?” I ask, to get her attention on something else.

She swallows, or more, gulps. “They get caught and there’s a fistfight. Possibly somebody pulls a gun. Or somebody comes in while they’re searching the room, and they hide under the bed. And then they hear a conversation they shouldn’t hear while they’re under there. Or they hear people having sex, and it’s an illicit affair they shouldn’t know about. But they can’t tell, because then the people having the affair would know that they were in there.”

“That’s not what’s going to happen here.” I ease open the door, pull her in, and snick it shut.

She spins around.

“That was so…” Breathlessly she searches for just the word.

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