Page 72 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

Right then the footsteps show back up.

“That better not be somebody else coming to get us,” he whispers.

The footsteps slow in front of our door. Somebody feeling uncertain.

A menacing rumble in my ear, “You see what you’ve done?”

A soft knock.

“Two minutes,” a voice calls out.

Rex detaches us and points at my room. “Go. Change.”

“What about…” I look down at his cock. But then he glowers, and I do as he said, because professionalism.

I go in and do a speed shower and record-breaking costume change. I put on a short brown jumper with white piping around the collar and awesome brown and white Fly London sandals. I put my Smuckers pendant around my neck, just because.

When I emerge from my room, he’s at his usual station, glowering at his laptop. He grabs his phone in the bold, angry way he has, and I’m flooded again with the memory of how he touched me and the things he said.

And the way he seems to care, even though he acts like he doesn’t.

He’s barking something into the phone—talking with Clark, obviously. “Bring your go-folder and cover for me, just fucking get over here. Bailey Tech’s popping.” He slams down the phone and turns to me, and my belly twists.He’s in a loose white linen shirt and tan pants and he looks amazing.

I feel nervous for a moment, because I like him so much, but the fact that it ends contractually after the yacht vacation is over makes it safe to have a fling. That’s what I tell myself.

“You’re ready,” he says.

“I’m a professional freaking fiancée,” I say. “You’re ready, too.”

“I’m a guy.”

His gaze drops to my chest. “Something tells me my shopper didn’t pick that out.”

I look down and see that the Smuckers pendant is showing. “Oops,” I say, tucking it in. “That’s just for me.”

When I look back up, he has an expression I can’t read. Is he unhappy to have seen it?

Clark’s distinctive rap breaks the strange silence. I pull open the door, and he comes in with a bundle of stuff in his arms. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“This one got me roped into a game of croquet,” Rex says. “I need you to be at the helm here.”

Clark looks astonished. “Croquet?”

“Don’t ask,” Rex says. “We were up in the hot tub and just…don’t ask.”

Clark looks stunned. “You were in the hot tub?”

I give him a smug little smile.

“What’s up?” Rex barks.

“Bailey Tech hit forty-five.” Clark arranges his papers on the desk, and they start carrying on a conversation in half numbers that I completely don’t understand. It sounds urgent, like something’s happening.

I wander over to where Rex is assembling his stuff. “Is everything okay? I can probably make excuses for you if it’s something urgent.”

“Everything that I do is urgent,” Rex says, turning around just as Clark’s reaching sideways.

A coffee mug goes over. Rex swears and grabs a keyboard and a laptop, and Clark dives for another laptop, and that upsets a box that’s balanced on something and suddenly papers and folders are all over the floor.

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