Page 121 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

“Was that too easy?” I say. “That felt a little easy.”

“I’ll stop worrying about ittoday,” he says. “I won’t stop knowing what I know—that this is more than some fling, and that you’re letting assholes from your past dictate your future.”

I give him a sassy look, because there’s the surly Rex I know and love.

Things inch back to normal…almost. We try each other’s food, and I tease him about his precious Tokyo team. He tells me about the people in his branch there.

This is how it would be,I think, heart squeezing painfully.

The sun is settingwhen we get back to the spot on the pier where the dinghy is to pick us up.

Some of the people in our small party are drunk, some of them have large bags of purchases. Serena is drunk and has a large bag of stuff. People are comparing notes on the different sides of the island. A few have been to both. One side is determined to be better for shopping; one is better for eating and drinking.

We line up on the pier, waiting for the boatmen to help us into the dinghy, one by one. Marvin is at the head of the line. He looks back and gives me one of his weirdgotchasmiles. Rex doesn’t see it, but I do. I smile politely and look away. I have enough on my mind without Marvin being a freak.

But then I look back over at him. And I nearly keel into the water. Because he’s clutching a cloth shopping bag with a picture of a parrot and “St. Herve” written in bright letters. And peeking up out the top of that bag is a large cardboard FedEx envelope, exactly like the one we sent. It’s just an end, sticking up out of the bag, but the logo is right there for all to see.

“What?” Rex asks, looking at my face. I point with my eyes to Marvin’s bag, but he’s not seeing it, and then it’s our turn to board.

Once on the boat, I grab his hand and guide him to a seat next to Marvin, putting Rex next to Marvin, because I need him to see.

Rex regards me quizzically, because usually I want to get away from Marvin.

Marvin sets the cloth bag with the FedEx envelope and a few touristy-looking things down next to his feet. When nobody’s looking, I do laser eyes at Rex, and then at the envelope, nestled maddeningly in that cloth bag.

The edge of the envelope is still all you can see. You can’t see the recipient or the sender. I’m praying for the bag to shift and for the side to billow out—just the tiniest bit of side billowing will afford a look.

“What?” he mouths.

The assistant boatman unties the ropes that lash the dinghy to the pier. Casually I put my arm around Rex and set my chin on his shoulder. I whisper, “Look down at Marvin’s bag.” And then I kiss him on the cheek to make it look natural, and also because I want to. Soon he’ll be off limits. I won’t be able to cut his hair anymore. It’ll be for my own good.

The idea makes me ill.

I know exactly when Rex sees the envelope, just by the way his body changes. He looks over at me with a slightwhat the fuck!expression.

I bring my lips to his ear. “You think it’s ours? You think he went in there and…”

A scowly shake of the head. A big no. “People get deliveries,” he says in his low masculine rumble. “Della has a package, too.” I look over and see a box next to her.

“But he didn’t seem like he was planning on going in until he saw us,” I whisper.

“You don’t know that.”

“And he smiled at me weird just now.”

Rex has no comment. He doesn’t believe me, but I know what I saw.

The boat pulls away from the pier, bouncing on the waves. We’re both watching Marvin’s bag, now. Personally, I’m hoping for a major boat bounce to shift it, or a crazy gust of wind. I just need to see the front of it.

I brush Rex’s hair back from his ear. One of the cousins is laughing about something, telling a story that has everybody rapt.

It gives me an idea—I’ll create a diversion and draw everybody to the back of the boat except the driver. If I can get people’s attention on the shoreline, maybe Rex can jostle the side of the bag with his foot so that it reveals more of the envelope.

I lean in and tell him my plan.

Under his breath, he says, “This isn’t an episode ofScooby-Doo.”

“Just follow my lead.” Before he can stop me, I stand, pointing at the cluster of palm trees on the receding shoreline. “Oh, wow!” I go to the back of the boat and grip the railing and lean out, as if it’s so amazing. “Look! Do you see?” I’m pointing at nothing. “Under that tree? Is that…”

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