Page 85 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

She’s intrigued. “You think this is gonna get me to not be mad at you for the list thing? Is that what’s going on here? Because that is a no-go.”

“All I’m saying is, why not cover all the bases?”

She doesn’t want to love this idea, but she does. “Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s rule this fake DNA thing out. I’m thinking Stefano wouldhave done it yesterday. He would’ve trotted right up to that salon and searched it.”

She licks her lips, and my cock is instantly hard. She’s so hot when she’s tempted. “On what pretext?”

I lower my voice. “Do soap opera villains need pretexts?”

“Soap opera villains always think of clever pretexts,” she says.

“There’s no need for a pretext if we just sneak into the salon.”

Her eyes widen minutely. She wants this. And I want her. It’s all wrong. And I can’t stop.

“Right now. Let’s go,” I say.

“You’re playing me.”

“Don’t you want to get the hairs tested? Nobody’s watching us,” I say. “This is our chance.”

“You mean it?” She really wants me to mean it.

My heart bangs out of my chest, imagining getting her alone, away, all to myself. Us as a team again. “When I say a thing, I do it, kitten.”

“Wow,” she whispers. She’s about to yield. It’s delicious. She’s delicious.

“You ready?” I say.

A slow smile spreads over her face. “The room is probably cleaned by now, but why not? It’s worth a try,” she says.

Chapter 14

Rex

We slip awayand cross through to the back of the ship, and up to the fourth level where there’s a small lounge, and behind that, a weight room, a yoga room, and—at the very end of a corridor—the spa area.

We find the door unlocked and slip in. The main room is a beauty salon crossed with a jungle, hushed and quiet now except for the sound of water from unseen fountains.

I narrow my gaze at the strange glow from the rooms beyond. “Is this where they keep the ship’s nuclear waste?” I whisper.

She puts on her playful annoyed face. “It’ssalt lamps. The massage rooms have salt lamps.”

“Salt lamps,” I say.

“They’re good for you.” She points at the partially open door. “Keep watch.”

I go over and stand guard, keeping an eye on the hallway while she yanks open drawers and pulls out brushes and combs. I haven’t snuck around like this since I was a kid back in South Boston. Though usually that was about self-preservation. About staying out of the way of gangs. Serious shit.

Drawers open and close. Utensils clink. Garbage pail lids clank softly. Finally there’s a loud sigh, and I turn, struck again by how sexy she is, softly lit in the strange jungle-glow environment of the salon.

“The good news is that this is a full-service yacht where they clean things thoroughly after every use. The bad news…”She tosses a comb back into the drawer.

“Clean?”

She nods.

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