Fake Wife (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 8)

“Not a problem,” he retorted, wearing that smile that made me want to smack him and devour him all at the same time. “I knew you’d never let the movers pack all your stuff. You’re too much of a control freak.”

I laughed for just a second, then rolled my eyes and leaned against his side. We sat there for a long few minutes, until the movers waved to let us know everything was cleared out.

That’s it then, I thought. Just like that, my whole life reduced to a bunch of boxes in the back of a big-ass truck and a quartet of hyper fur-balls on their leashes.

“You ready?”

“Let me take one more walkthrough. Then I’ll meet you at your place,” I said and pushed to my feet.

“Our place,” he corrected with a smile.

I blushed. “Right. But’s that only if I officially say I do.”

“You will.”

“I love your sense of confidence.”

Charlie helped me untie the dogs from the bench, but when I tried to take them all with me, Oreo planted his butt right on Charlie’s foot, as did Max. “Uh... Do they normally do this?”

“No,” I said, confused and tugging on their leashes. “Come on, boys.”

Oreo and Max, who were usually rather obedient, simply stared out over the lawn, refusing to budge an inch. In fact, the only movement Max made was to snuggle closer to Charlie’s leg. A piece of my heart fluttered to Charlie that way, because the people at the shelter told me he usually shied away from men. Even at the pool the other day, Max didn’t seem to mind Charlie being around. I had no idea why Oreo was doing it though.

“Do you mind if they ride with you?” I asked, handing over their leashes.

Instantly, the dogs were on their feet and wagging their tails, their tongues excitedly lolling out of their mouths.

“No, um... I guess it’s fine. Can Max walk that far, all the way to the truck?”

I glanced to where he parked and nibbled my lip. “Do you mind carrying him?”

“Not at all.” He smiled and bent down. “All right, Max,” he said as he tucked the dog carefully under his left armpit and let the front part of him rest on his muscled forearm. “You’re coming with me. You too, Oreo, my man.”

Oreo barked in agreement and ran right toward the truck.

I shook my head and laughed.

“I think I just found my new best friends,” he said.

“Guess so.” I narrowed my eyes at Oreo and smiled. “You traitor.”

He barked at me and just continued prancing along, right on Charlie’s heels, as if Charlie was the one who had rescued him from a cruel fate five years ago.

I laughed at how cute they looked.

Chapter 13

I headed toward my old, beat-up hatchback and piled Tank and Billy in the back; they were glad to have the run of the whole car to themselves instead of having to share with their two brothers again. I started the rickety thing up after a couple tries and followed the moving truck and Charlie to his mansion, to that huge, ridiculously nice mansion I was going to now live in.

“Tammy’s never going to shut up about this one,” I muttered under my breath and pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later. “Well, boys,” I said, peering at my furry fellows in the rearview mirror, “let’s see how much we can drive Charlie nuts, okay? Do your worst!” I let out a long chuckle. If we drive him too crazy, maybe he’ll develop cold feet about this psycho plan to marry me. Not so easy to put a ring on it when you’re all tied up in a straightjacket!

Ahead of me in the driveway, Charlie hopped out of his truck and leaned back in. When he reappeared, Max was tucked under his arm again, happy as a clam, almost smirking as he rested his head on the big man’s shoulder.

“You’re all traitors,” I grumbled as I let Billy and Tank out. Before I could catch their leashes, they barked and rushed after Charlie, following him inside as if he was the king of the dogs. Wait. Maybe that’s a good title for him, I thought with a giggle, considering his reputation. Still feeling a bit awkward about the situation, I lingered by my car as the movers started to unload my things.

What the hell is wrong with me, moving in with Charlie, of all people? What have I gotten myself into? Did I jump into some sort of alternate universe? Am I still sleeping? Is this just a dream, a bad case of the Mandela Effect? I pinched myself and winced from the pain. Nope. I’m afraid it’s very, very real.

I bit my lip hard, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision to move into Charlie’s own version of the Playboy Mansion.