Fake, page 9
And he’s a role model?
I guess even villains have a tender side.
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Ricky.” I clear my throat and search for words that might form an actual sentence. “Of course I know all about Ricky. How could I have forgotten Ricky?”
“Nell said he was really good.” Micah gives me a funny look, probably because he’s wondering how many more times I’ll say the name Ricky. “You must be doing something right.”
Nathan holds out his hands and feigns shock. “You all heard it, right? Someone mark the calendar. Micah actually gave someone else credit for doing a good job.”
“Uncle Nator Tot!” A little girl with golden blond hair bounds up to the group and leaps onto Nathan’s back. He grunts, then twists back and forth, waving his arms like he’s trying to brush her off.
“What the…?” He spins wildly, then stops, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. “Is there something on my back?” he asks me, his eyes gleaming, his smile wide and toothy and absolutely stunning.
Look at me, breathless again.
Wow. I mean, just, wow.
The little girl giggles, burying her face in his neck. “There’s no kids here and I’m bored. Will you play with me? Grandma says there’s strawberry ice cream, just for us.”
“Strawberry ice cream just for us?” Nathan asks excitedly, pivoting back and forth like he’s looking for something. “Where? Point me to it!”
The girl digs her heels into his side, pointing to a table set up on the other side of the room. “That way, Cap’n!”
Dear God. Ovaries have exploded. Cuteness overload disabling common sense. Stop me before I do something stupid. Desperately, Mina Blake.
“That’s enough, Nell,” says Micah. “Hop off Uncle Nathan and let him say hi to everyone before you commandeer him for the evening.”
“Nell Bell?” Nathan cranes his neck to meet the giggling girl’s eyes. “Is that you?”
“Who else would it be?” She slides off his back, then stands in front of him, her little chin lifted. “You knowed it was me the whole time.”
“Maybe,” he says with a grin, then shakes his head as Nell skips away and disappears in the crowd.
“So that’s my daughter,” Micah says to me before turning to his cousins. “She’s desperate for a cousin or seven, if any of you would like to get on that it would be very helpful.”
The group chuckles and cracks a few more jokes while I acclimate to a Nathan who doesn’t feel like The Prince of Darkness.
“I’m gonna finish saying hello to everyone,” he says, during a lull in conversation. “So Mina can meet the whole crew.”
We say our goodbyes and make our way around the room. He introduces me to so many people I’m dizzy with names and faces. Dinner is delicious, the cake is huge, and damn if the smile on Nathan’s face when he blows out the candles feels like sunshine. We sing. We eat. We help ourselves to cocktails from the bar.
And then, we dance.
Nathan’s arms are draped around my waist, his eyes locked on mine. I’d almost buy that he adored me if I didn’t know the truth. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind being adored by the man I met tonight. I don’t know which version of him is real. The grumpy rich asshole who charges obscene amounts of money for a favor? Or the man giving piggyback rides to his niece and making house calls to nervous students because he’s the guy who drops everything to save the world?
“You are uncomfortably good at this,” I say with a sigh.
“At what?”
“Pretending to like me.”
He cocks his head and grins like I said something to melt his heart. “I’ll admit, it’s taking more energy than I thought it would.”
Of course, then he says things like that and I remember everything about tonight is an illusion. Grumpy rich assholes can be good with kids and awful with everyone else.
Nathan’s hands slip lower on my back, almost brushing my ass for the third time since this song started playing.
“Touch my butt one more time. Go ahead. I dare you,” I say, pressing my cheek to his chest.
“It’s a great ass.”
“It’s an off-limits ass.”
“You didn’t have to wear a thong.”
I pull back, my brows lifted into twin stop signs. “I see. You’re one of those men.”
Nathan slides his hands a few inches towards safety. “And what kind of man do you think I am?”
“One who blames a woman’s clothing for his lack of self-control. A proud member of the ‘she asked for it’ crew.”
He stops in his tracks. “A man is responsible for his actions. Always.” His eyes are intense as they hold mine and there’s a flicker of something dancing in my belly.
Something that feels like we’re having a moment.
And I’m not interested in having moments with Nathan West.
So, I do the only reasonable thing. I slide myself back into his arms, press my body against his, then take both his butt cheeks in my hands and squeeze.
He jumps. Yelps. Then pulls back and now it’s his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Just in case what you said was bullshit, I thought you’d like a turn at feeling objectified.”
Nathan shakes his head and laughs lightly.
“What was that?” I ask, dropping my jaw in astonishment.
“What was what?”
“That sound you just made.”
“I didn’t make a sound.”
“You did. From anyone else, I’d say it was laughter, but I didn’t know The Prince of Darkness knew how to do that.”
“Very funny,” Nathan replies in a voice lacking the sarcastic edge I’ve come to know and hate.
“You should do that more. It’s, uh, well it’s very appealing.” A blush burns across my cheeks. Did I really say that? Out loud?
“I’ll take that under advisement.” His gaze slips over my shoulder, and when his eyes meet mine, there’s a spark of something I don’t have a name for. “My cousins are staring.”
“Good?”
“Just warning you what’s about to happen.” Nathan reaches for me, lightly drawing his finger down the side of my face and along my neckline. His touch is gentle yet electric, sending shockwaves through every inch of my body. His fingers whisper across my skin, lower, lower, until they rest just above the swell of my breasts.
I’m shocked.
I’m speechless.
I should be outraged, no, I am outraged but I’m hypnotized as he moves closer, then closer still. Our lips are almost touching. My senses captured. I’m surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and whisky and the musk of his skin. Surprisingly, I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it at all.
Eyes on my mouth, he tilts his head and thank God for small miracles, I snap out of whatever spell he’s cast on me before I allow him to do something we’ll both regret. I am so not ready to be kissed by The Prince of Darkness.
I turn my face and press my cheek to his chest, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and holding him close while I catch my breath…
Only I can’t.
Not with his dick thickening, lengthening, and pressing against me, a long line of warmth neither of us can ignore.
No matter how much we might want to.
Nathan dances us into a dark corner, out of the middle of the room, then steps back. We stare for several long moments, my chest heaving, his eyes heavy and hooded and filled with something that sets my heart racing.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I had a lot to drink.”
“Me too.” I swallow hard. “I mean, obviously that’s the only way something…like that…would happen.” I glance pointedly at his crotch, which sends my libido into a happy dance of expectation, then drag my focus back to his face. I thought that would be safer ground, but it’s not. The heat in his gaze threatens to light me ablaze.
Nathan frowns. His jaw tightens. Brows furrow. “Obviously,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Listen, I—”
“Wilhelmina!” booms a familiar voice. “You are the last person I expected to see in Nathan’s arms. After our conversation this morning?” I turn to see Mason Channing, drink in hand, sunshine engaged.
It might be the first time I’m not happy to see him.
“You know I’m just plain Mina,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as discombobulated as I feel.
“Not in that dress.” Mason flares his hands like the statement is obvious. “So, which is it? My cousin’s an asshole? Or you’re dating?”
“Both,” I say with a shaky laugh and a glance at Nathan, whose face is maddeningly unreadable.
After tonight, I know one thing for sure:
I don’t know the real Nathan West.
THIRTEEN
Nathan
The party ends, I sober up, and drive Mina back to her car. All in all, the evening didn’t go too badly. Hot Mess Express or not, Mina Blake is beautiful. She wears the hell out of that red dress. It begs my hands to explore every curve. Her smile is a gentle white wine, a light rain after a scorching summer day. Her rich black hair hangs straight and shines like moonlit midnight over water. Her lips are candy, sweet and baited.
I want to taste them. And damn it, I almost did. Worse, I’m disappointed I didn’t.
There’s something to her. Something I didn’t expect.
She’s funny.
And strong.
And won’t take my shit.
Mina doesn’t like me. And she has every right not to. I’ve been rude. And selfish. And impulsive.
Hell, I don’t want to like her.
But part of me does.
And that is a big ass problem.
When people like Mina look at me, they see an opportunity. Not a human being with hopes and dreams and feelings.
And because Blossom opened my eyes to that truth, I’ve wrapped myself in barbed wire, frozen like that damn picture Mina included in her mood board this afternoon. I’m not supposed to like being seen or understood. I’m not supposed to let Mina’s smile lower my guard.
This is a woman who would do anything for money, including pretend to date a man she thinks is an evil, villainous, Prince of Darkness. Her old car and worn clothes tell me she’s hurting for money, and me? I’m a fucking bank.
How can I believe anything she says or does around me is real?
I can’t. Simple as that.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Mina says as I pull to a stop beside her car. Streetlamps illuminate the parking lot, light diffused by humidity tumbling through the window to brighten her face. “Having second thoughts about this whole fake relationship thing?”
Her tepid smile tells me she definitely is.
“Something like that.” I roll my lips together and stare out the windshield, watching bugs flit around the streetlights.
“If this is a bad idea, we could end our little experiment and no one would think twice.”
“No.” I speak too quickly. Too sharply. My voice is intense. Mina’s gaze darts my way and she frowns, then holds up her hands.
“Fine. Fine. No worries. I said I’d do a thing, so I’ll do the thing. I’m just getting weird signals from you and honestly, this whole day’s got me wondering if I should be looking for hidden cameras or something.” She finishes the sentence with a shrug and silence charges the atmosphere of the car.
My jaw pulses in frustration. With myself. With her. With everything that’s happened in the last several months. She’s waiting for me to explain my strange behavior. Hell, I’m waiting for me to explain my strange behavior.
“I’ve had a lot to drink,” I finally say, even though we both know I was perfectly sober before I got behind the wheel.
Mina lifts her chin like she’s assessing the statement, then shakes her head and lets it pass. Now it’s her turn to watch the bugs dancing under the streetlights.
“Maybe that explains it.”
She doesn’t sound convinced. Her brows furrow as she sighs deeply.
“I know it’s none of my business—”
I snort. “But you’re going to make it your business anyway?”
She huffs a sigh and shakes her head. “…but whatever you’re trying to run from isn’t going away on its own. You’re not letting yourself feel whatever it is, which means you’re not processing, so it’s just sitting in there, festering. It’s only going to get worse.”
Scowling, I glare out the window. “Who says I’m running from something?”
“Maybe you’re not, but after watching you with your family, something tells me you are. And call me crazy, but I hate to watch anyone self-destruct. Even The Prince of Darkness.” She offers the name with a smile. Not a barb, but a friendly jab.
I swipe a hand down my face. “I’m not self-destructing.”
And I’m tired of people saying I am. I’m setting boundaries and making sure they don’t get crossed. I’m doubling down on doing good work for people who deserve it. Feels more like self-preservation to me.
“All right, then.” Mina gives me one of those looks you save for awkward situations with people you don’t want to offend. “I think it’s probably time to call it a night.”
“You’re probably right.” I grip the steering wheel and sigh.
Mina puts a hand on my arm, and that jolt of what-the-holy-fuck stops me in my tracks. “Think about what I said,” she says, her voice soft. “I think there’s more to you than smirks and snark and all this villain era BS. I think maybe you’re working through something and, well, you don’t have to work through it alone.”
I start to thank her, but I’ve already blurred my boundaries too much tonight. I close my eyes and clear my throat instead.
“I can take care of myself,” I growl.
With a sad shake of her head, Mina blows a puff of air past her lips. “Says the man who paid his interior designer to go to his birthday party rather than deal with whatever’s going on in his life.”
Her eyes flash and she shoots me a grin that says, “So there.”
I put in a request for a scathing comeback that my brain completely ignores, so after a few silent seconds, I guide her back to her car, leaning down before I close the door. “Good night, Hot Mess.”
“If you say so, Sweet Prince.” Mina lifts her hands and waves as she pulls out of the spot. I return the gesture as her words replay in my mind.
…you don’t have to work through it alone.
As much as I’d like that to be true, tonight has shown me one thing for sure:
I can’t trust myself around Mina Blake.
FOURTEEN
Mina
“Oh my God, Fallon. You'll never believe how awful tonight was.” Perched on the edge of my best friend’s couch and still wearing my red dress, I drop my head into my hands, then spread my fingers to peep at my friend’s reaction.
“I've got a huge case of déjà vu.” Fallon sits beside me, hair up, PJs on. We look just as mismatched as I did with Nathan at the party. Well. Not just Nathan. His entire family was significantly more casual than I expected. I stuck out like a sore thumb. A bright red, very sore thumb. Which was only the beginning of my humiliation.
“How can you have an awful night when you look that good?” Fallon frowns. “And how is it that you look that good and I don’t know why?”
Everything happened so fast today, I didn’t call her after lunch to tell her about my new fake relationship. She’d make a bigger deal out of it than it is, maybe try to talk me out of it, or maybe I was just embarrassed by the whole thing. Even now, I’m a tad hesitant to fill her in, and that doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s because I know how she feels about him. Whatever it is, it’s time to get over it.
“I was with Nathan…” I begin, but the rest of the sentence sticks in my throat.
“Nathan? As in Nathan West? You look like that because of Nathan West?” Fallon waves her hand over my face and body, looking intrigued.
“You are so not prepared for this.”
“Something tells me whatever happened tonight is gonna make my readers go crazy when they read about it. My sub count has grown so much since I started talking about Nathan West.” Her gaze shifts toward the ceiling, her eyes glazed and faraway. She’s already trying out headlines and that isn’t going to work. I might not like Nathan, but that doesn’t change the definition of right and wrong.
“Nope. No way. Hard stop. You either promise this is protected by best friend code, or I keep the story to myself,” I say, holding up a finger. “You absolutely cannot publish any of this.”
Fallon blinks. Frowns. For a moment, I wonder if I misjudged the power of best friend code, but then she bobs her head and shows her palms. “Done. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Nathan and I had a meeting scheduled this afternoon to talk about some of my ideas for his house, and you will never guess what he asked me.” Stalling, stalling. Why do I keep stalling? Does some part of me not trust Fallon with this information?
“To come up with an entirely different scheme, using colors that will clash with his personality and ruin the flow of the space.” She speaks with the confidence of someone who’s listened to me complain about work too many times.
“It's worse than that,” I respond with a laugh. “Way worse.”
Fallon puts a hand to her heart and drops her jaw. “Tell me he didn’t decide to go with the architect’s functional placement for the staircase rather than your more aesthetically pleasing idea?”
See? This is Fallon. There’s absolutely zero reason to feel weird about sharing this story with her.
“I mean, that sounds exactly like something he’d do, and bless you for listening to me enough to know that’s even a thing. But no. It's worse than that. Best friend code?” I ask, arching a brow and cocking my head.
Fallon mimes zipping her lips. “This information is protected by said code and shall go no further.”
