The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend: Part 2 (The Billionaire Saga 2)

The entire patio was dead quiet. The only noises were the sounds of the flashbulbs going crazy outside. Our server, who had been frozen ten paces behind, wondering when to make himself known, finally took a step forward and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Can I…uh…can I get you two started with something to drink?”

“A mojito for me please, thanks, and…honey?”

I glanced up at Marcus like I was seeing him for the first time. He was still frozen in place, staring at me—stunned. Mouth ajar and hair sticking up in all different directions from my rather rough treatment of it. The waiter followed my gaze and I frowned disapprovingly.

“For the love of God, Marcus, fix your hair. This is a nice place.”

* * *

We left the restaurant about forty minutes later to the wild applause of the paparazzi. This time, it was me who pulled Marcus close as we smiled and posed before heading to the car. I did a bit of an awkward shimmy to get back inside, but he strategically ducked in right behind me, effectively shielding me from view.

“So that’s it, right?” I said happily as we sped away from the curb. “The rest of the day is just ours?”

“Um…yeah.” He discreetly avoided my gaze, just as he’d been doing since my little passionate outburst at lunch. “Do you want to, uh, talk first? About what just happened?”

“The paparazzi?” I asked, pointing behind me. “Surely, you should be used to them by now, darling.”

“No, I mean before. Your little showdown on the patio.”

I stared unabashedly back. “You said to put on a show, didn’t you? That’s why you picked the restaurant in the first place and sat us outside? So we could be seen?”

“Well yes, but…” He flashed me a smile. “I think you gave Karl Lagerfeld sitting behind us a small heart attack.”

My heart raced, but I was determined to play it as cool as him. “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen, right? I mean, Marcus,” I leaned forward, and he fought to keep his eyes on my face, “you just proposed to me. This is how any newly engaged couple would be acting.” I sat back with a business-like frown. “Unless you want to play it down a little?”

“No,” he said, a little quicker than was necessary. “No, I mean…that’s fine.”

He stared out the window for the rest of the drive while I stifled a satisfied grin.

When we got back to the compound, I headed straight up to my room, stripping off my dress to the nude slip beneath as I rummaged through my drawers for the swimsuits I’d seen there earlier. It looked as though Marcus had brought back the entire shipment from the Caribbean, and I was thrilled to see some familiar hand-crafted numbers staring back at me.

I picked a bejeweled string bikini in deep purple and was just unhooking the straps on my slip when the door pushed suddenly open.

“Look, all I meant today about lunch was—oh shit! Sorry!” Marcus ducked back outside, clearly interpreting the nude slip to be…just nude.

I laughed and called him back in. “It’s a dress, Marcus. You can come inside. Actually,” I frowned as I tugged once more on the straps, “I might need a little help.”

He made his way cautiously forward, eyeing me like at any moment I might suddenly disrobe, and he would be held to blame.

“See?” I twisted and held it up before him. “It’s stuck.”

He started fiddling with it gently, knuckles grazing my bare shoulders, sending little chills running up and down my legs. After a second, he gave it a sharper tug and frowned.

“This is impossible,” he muttered. “I’m just going to rip it, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” I said quickly, taking a step away. “This is really nice. I don’t want to break it.”

He was still holding onto the straps and pulled me quickly back. “It’s fine. I’ll just get you another one. Now on the count of three. One…two…”

“No!” I swatted unsuccessfully at his hands. “Don’t, I’m serious. I’ll figure it out, just give it back.”

He weighed his options appraisingly for a second before shaking his head. “Three.”

With a mighty tug, the strap broke loose, and it was all I could do to keep the slip from tumbling off my body. I grabbed it in the nick of time, but if it didn’t look like I was naked before, it certainly did now.

“Out—out!” I demanded, swatting him with my free hand as I hid behind the gauzy curtains. “Shit! Why is everything in this house sheer?”