Page 104 of The Billionaire's Baby
"I know what you’re thinking." She curves her fingers around the thick rope that connects the swing to the ceiling. "It’s such a long time, a lifetime of living, of memories, decades of the world changing and you changing with it, and yet, some things inside stay the same. All gone by in the blink of an eye, a snap of a finger, a flutter of butterflies’ wings somewhere in the Amazon, and everything changes. You’re no longer a bride of twenty, stepping across the threshold, but a woman at death’s door."
"Grandmama—"
She raises her hand. "You don’t need to coddle me like the men in there." She jerks her chin toward the house again. "They know the truth, but they avoid it, thinking if they don’t acknowledge it, it ceases to be real. But you and I... We know better, don’t we? We know that life is short, and we need to make the most of what we have right now in the moment." She peers into my features. "We do, right?"
I hold her gaze and my throat goes dry. This woman... She’s way too sharp, more than anyone I’ve ever met. There’s no pulling the wool over her eyes.
Damn Arpad, he should have known there was no way that we could fool her into buying our story. But of course, he wouldn’t give anyone credit for being as smart as him. He’d seen an opportunity and taken it, and so had I. And here I am, faced with a dying woman whom I had deceived, straight to her face. Damn. I fill my lungs with the scent of the flowers, then turn to her. "You’re right. Arpad and I… We…have ... This is an arrangement."
"What kind of an arrangement?"
A hot sensation stabs at my chest. Why the hell is it so difficult to tell her the truth? She’s guessed most of it already, so why does it feel like I am, somehow, betraying her and Arpad and myself? Gah! I jump up to my feet and begin to pace. "We, uh, decided that I’d pose as his wife for thirty days, including the duration of this trip, after which, we are getting married for real."
"But you're not sure about it?"
I stare at her features. How did she guess? Am I that bad an actress or is she simply that perceptive?
I play with the ring on my finger. "We've gotten to know each other better over the last few days," I hesitate, "but—"
"You’re still not sure about your feelings for him?"
"No…it’s not that."
"So, you’re not sure if he loves you?"
I open and shut my mouth. How do I explain? That he does feel something for me, somewhere deep down, under the alphahole exterior of his, but... That he’s not going to say it.
"Or you know he does, but he hasn’t told you so yet?"
I stare at her. Jesus, this woman is frightening. The way she reads my mind, it’s as if she knows what I am thinking.
She kicks off again, the swing creaks on its hinges, and her silver hair flies back from her face. For a second, I can imagine her as a young woman, her eyes huge in her unlined face with, her dark hair falling in a cloud about her shoulders. I blink and the mirage disappears. She smiles at me. "I need to share a secret with you."
"You do?"
She nods. "Come," she pats the seat next to her, "sit down with me for a few more minutes."
I retrace my steps, sink down onto the swing.
"You see, men... They are simple creatures."
"They are?" I swallow.
She nods, "They like to eat, to get pissed, then indulge in pissing contests, and to fuck."
My jaw drops.
"What?" She chuckles. "I am old, so I can’t use the F word, is that it?"
"No," I twist my fingers together, "of course, not."
"You have to lure them in, you know?"
"O-kay." Where the hell is she going with this?
"You have to show them what they are missing out on, appeal to the caveman in them. Know what I mean?"
I bite down on the inside of the cheek, "Is that what you did? With uh, Mr. Grandmama?"
