The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend: Part 1 (The Billionaire Saga 1)

Once he left the stage, the party began to automatically dissipate, and he wove through the crowd to take my hand. “You ready to get out of here?” he murmured.

“No, I want to hear from the Under-Secretary of Bolivia again.” I squeezed his fingers, and he glanced down with a little smile.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

The crowd parted like water as we made our way straight through the middle, ignoring the cameras hovering outside as we ducked into our car and sped away into the night. We didn’t say more than a word or two the entire ride back to my apartment. For whatever reason, Marcus was distracted and subdued, drumming his fingers rhythmically on his legs as he stared out the window. When we finally pulled up at the curb, he got out and opened the door for me, offering me a hand as I navigated my shoes firmly onto the pavement.

“Well, thanks again for the dress. I’ll hear from you tomorrow?”

He nodded with a distant smile, and I wondered whether or not I should hug him goodbye. There were certainly no cameras around my neck of the woods, but it was hard to know the fake dating protocol. Eventually, I just gave him a little wave and headed inside.

But suddenly, I paused. A question had been eating away at me since the woman in the dress shop had told me that Marcus was the one hosting the gala.

“Marcus?” I watched him stop and turn by the car. “Why did you pick that charity?”

There was the littlest pause. The littlest pause where his shoulders fell ever so slightly.

“My mother died of diabetes,” he said abruptly.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

A flash made me blink.

“They’ve found us,” he said.

And that’s when I noticed how wrong I’d been about the cameras in my neck of the woods. Because I saw a few men with cameras. They weren’t even trying to hide. Guess they really wanted that perfect shot.

“Do we ignore the cameras?” I asked. “Over to the left. Because they’re watching us intensely.”

He winked. “Then we better give them a good show.”

“You mean like the best goodnight kiss ever?”

“Let’s make it sizzling hot. I mean, we have to convince them, right?”

I parted my mouth in invitation.

His gaze bore into mine as our faces inched closer. “We so have to make them believe it.”

He pulled me ever so close, brushing his lips against mine in a powerful, intense kiss. I loved how his soft lips moved over my mouth, his taste addictive. I tilted my head and the kiss deepened. His touch warmed every inch of my skin as our tongues danced in perfect harmony.

I knew I was supposed to be acting. But this didn’t feel like acting. It felt like something more. He never said we had to kiss. Just act. I had so crossed the line. But then again, so had he. Or was he really trying to sell this story? What the hell was I doing? I can’t fall for this guy. He’ll just break my heart. This was an acting gig and nothing more. But why was I enjoying this kiss far too much?

His tongue slid over mine in a sensuous dance, every stroke sending me into overdrive. It was like he was breathing life into my empty soul. My body shivered with pleasure, every cell on fire. I ran my hands through his soft locks. We now kissed in a slow, erotic rhythm. It was the most perfect, passionate kiss, and I felt the sparks all the way down to my toes.

“Goodnight, Rebecca,” he said.

“Goodnight,” I responded.

I scarcely remembered the walk back up to my apartment—my heels somehow sensed my distraction and vowed to behave. I floated past Hamburg’s door, wondering vaguely why he didn’t pounce on me again about my eviction; choking on the heavy scent of Mrs. Wakowski’s curry wafting through the air; and pulled open the door to my apartment.

The lights were off, and I took a silent moment as I leaned back against the door, replaying certain scenes from the night in my head. I couldn’t tell you what exactly had changed over the course of the evening, but things with Marcus were not how they started this morning.

They were…different, somehow.

Then the lights snapped on, and I shrieked aloud.

Amanda was sitting on the couch, stroking Deevus and watching me with narrowed eyes. I flushed guiltily in my new dress, clutching my chest as my heart cautiously slowed to normal. My nervous smile went unreturned as she continued stroking the cat like a grade-A villain.