My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

“Andrews?” Emily questions, still looking for weaknesses in this story. I wish she’d stop poking around because there are more holes in this lie than in a spaghetti strainer.

This one’s easy, though. I give her a hard glare. “Yes, Andrews." I emphasize the name, giving it all the weight of my father’s money and reputation. “I certainly couldn’t change my name to anything else. Lorenzo understood.”

He steps in closer to me, turning my face to his with a gentle touch of his palm to my jaw. “I do not need you to wear my name or even my ring. I simply want you to wear my love tattooed on your heart, my kisses on your skin, and my . . .” He leans in, whispering into my ear, “My cock in your pussy.”

I blush, instantly hot and pink. And horny for Lorenzo. For what he’s promising, even if they’re lies he’s telling to save my ass.

My jaw drops, panting breaths passing my lips. He’s so close, he must be able to feel them because he gives me a smile of victory and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Soon, mia rosa. Tell your friends goodbye so I can have you.”

That was loud enough that Emily and Doug both heard.

“Uh, yeah . . . bye, guys. Nice to meet you, Doug. Good to see you, Emily,” I say automatically, even though it wasn’t nice or good. Mom would be proud of my manners.

“Maybe I’ll see you around the resort?” Emily says quickly before I can whisk Lorenzo away.

I fucking hope not.

“Maybe.”

But Emily isn’t letting go of this conversation just yet. “You know what, we should all hang out! Doug and I have reservations this evening. How about you join us for dinner? We can chat, catch up, all that. I just gotta hear the story of how you landed this man.” She looks at Lorenzo and continues, “Abs and I used to compete all the time. It’s the kind of girls we used to be, but we were still friends. I think we made each other better, you know? We have so much to talk about.”

We did not make each other better. Emily made my life hell, and if I’m honest with myself, I probably did the same to her to a much lesser degree.

Lorenzo looks at me, giving me a barely perceptible lift of his brow in question. When I don’t argue, he asks Emily, “What time?”

“Eight. We’ll stop by your room to meet you and we can walk down together. I heard that clerk say your room number. Jeez, there’s like zero consideration for privacy, you know?” Emily says nastily, as if she’s not the one using the overheard information.

Dammit. Cornered and trapped. “Well, maybe.”

“Okay!” Emily says, all fake cheeriness before smirking. “Till then . . . babe.”

Babe? Are you fucking serious?

I walk off, giving Emily a saccharine smile. Lorenzo follows me off to the side of the reception area before he pulls me to a stop. “You want to tell me what that was? I mean, I played along, but what was that?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Lorenzo,” I blurt, trying not to turn red and wondering again just where the hell Janey is. “I just . . . okay, really fast. Emily’s pretty much my high school nemesis. Major stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone. It just came out because I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of winning when she was looking at me like some pitiful lost dog nobody wants.”

I think it took me exactly two point three seconds to say all that, and I can see that Lorenzo’s still processing all the rushed English. Taking a deep breath, I pull on my big girl pants and continue. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to keep this lie up. I totally blindsided you. I can tell Emily it was a joke or something.”

Yeah . . . and watch that bitch gloat for the next twenty years.

My heart seems frozen for a long moment as Lorenzo looks at me, and I can almost hear him telling me ‘no’ before walking off, probably calling me all sorts of crazy in Italian. But then he smiles, his lips tilting up on the left side of his mouth like he’s getting the biggest kick out of whatever this weird thing might be. “So . . . she’s the Inter to your AC Milano?”

“Uhh . . . maybe?” I reply, not knowing what the hell he’s talking about.

Lorenzo’s smile broadens, and he takes my hand. “Then just for you, mia rosa, I’ll play along. And I can already see I’ll need to teach you about futbol if we’re going to make this believable.”

I’m so relieved that an entirely graceless laugh barks out. Without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Holy shit, are you serious? I owe you big time!”