Billionaire Bad Boy's Fake Bride

When they arrived at Montjuich Park, the first thing they did was go to the old course, where Connor did a lap in their rental car. It was no longer part of the circuit, but the route remained part of regular city traffic, so it was well maintained. When they drew up to what would have been the finish line, he grinned at her. “Trade places.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not much of a driver, and I’m not even on the rental agreement.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “I’m willing to take the risk that you won’t crash the rental car in a few minutes, Angelina.”

She sniffed at him. “You’re being awfully reckless, Mr. Blackwell.”

He shrugged his shoulders and winked at her. “You know me, baby. I’m a racer. I guess you could say reckless is in my blood.”

With a huff and another roll of her eyes, she slid from the car and traded places with him. Despite her bluster and protesting, she couldn’t deny a slight thrill of adrenaline shot through her when she was behind the wheel of the car, staring at the track ahead of her. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a real race, and that she had never even briefly considered driving a race car before as anything but a scary occupation. She could suddenly feel the history of the track resonating within her.

Sitting beside Connor as he made exaggerated engine sounds with his mouth and counted down to the start of the race, it was as though she was surrounded by phantom cars, all waiting for the light to change. Here she was, in the first grid position, and all she had to do was maintain the lead she had already acquired by finishing first in the time trials. That was no problem for skilled driver like herself.

She wanted to giggle at her own silliness, but when he said go, suddenly she couldn’t stay the impulse that had her foot pressing hard on the gas pedal and sent the little mini peeling down the street with a squeal of rubber against asphalt. She was going faster than she’d ever driven before, though still not insanely fast, as they rounded the corners, and he led her through the imaginary race with his sportscaster-like commentary.

When she stopped again at the finish line, which was also the beginning point, she collapsed against her seat, surprised by how much adrenaline had pumped through her system during the imaginary race. She shook her head. “That was surprisingly intense.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s nothing like the real thing.”

She turned her head and smiled at him, suddenly glad he had convinced her to act so crazily irresponsible by her standards. “I don’t think I could handle the real thing. This was enough racing for me.”

He laughed again as he directed her from the racing area to a parking spot nearby. “I got the hotel to pack us lunch, and this looks like a good spot to spread it out on the grass.”

Together, they spread the included blanket and unpacked the basket. She was famished after the adrenaline rush, and he must have been as well, because they systematically made their way through the feast that should have fed for easily, but somehow seemed to disappear between the two of them and their best efforts.

Afterward, she was stuffed and leaned back on the checkered blanket, folding her hands behind her head as she looked up at the bright sun. “I think this was just what I needed, Connor. This whole trip has been so relaxing, and it’s helped me unwind from all the stress that I’ve been living with the last few years.”

He sighed, a sound of contentment, and stretched out near her, but not touching. “I’ve enjoyed it too. I’m always on the go, and that’s usually what I prefer, but there’s a lot to be said for just slowing down and enjoying the moment with someone special.”

She could have made a flippant remark, something that would’ve changed the atmosphere between them and lightened that unspoken tension that seem to be settling in again. Instead, she licked her lips and turned her head to look at him. “Be careful, Connor. This is starting to feel perilously close to a real date.”

“Well, I do owe you a first date, after all. Sorry there aren’t any hot dogs.”

Remembering the narrative he’d spun about their first nonexistent date, she grinned. “I wouldn’t have room for them anyway.”

He rolled closer to her, still not touching, but now on his side, facing her. “Do you remember how our first date ended?”

In spite of herself, or rather, in spite of common sense, she turned on her side to face him, and their chests were almost touching. “I think it ended with a kiss, because you respected me too much to try anything else?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “I do respect you. I hope you believe that, Angelina. I know this whole thing has been unconventional and stressful for both of us, but I want to make sure you know that I do like and respect you, and I don’t consider you just one-night stand material.”

Warmth suffused her chest, and the sensible thing would have been to roll away and get up, to break the moment before anything that shouldn’t happen did anyway. Instead, she licked her lips and remained right where she was, watching with a hint of confliction, but mostly anticipation, as he moved his head toward hers, angling his chin so that her lips were easier to reach with his mouth.

It was a tender, sweet kiss and over with all too quickly. He withdrew a moment later, pausing only long enough to press a small kiss to her nose as well before he was the first to roll away and stand up.

She was surprised, perhaps even shocked, by the turn of events, and when he held out a hand to help her to her feet, she didn’t protest. She simply stared at him with disbelief. “That’s it?”

Connor nodded. “I don’t have the self-control for anything else, Angelina, and we both know how this script plays out.”

She cleared her throat, still in a daze that Connor had been the one to call a halt to their burgeoning make-out session rather than her. She should have been the voice of reason, and had she been, she wouldn’t have ended up lying against him like that to start with.

Who knew Connor had it in him? She nodded her acceptance and helped pack up the rest of the things, sensing instinctively that the outing was over and hoping it didn’t signal the end of their tentative friendship.

***

The day of the race dawned, and they arrived about an hour before the event got underway. She remained at his side, trying not to reveal her surprise the first time or two he introduced her as his fiancée, realizing it made sense. They would be having a wedding in the next few weeks, so she supposed it was naïve to think they could have kept their supposed union and its dissolution under wraps.

Briefly, she remembered the unpleasant sensation of being swarmed at the hospital and wondered how much of that was in her future once she ostensibly jilted Connor at the altar, having no doubt he would play up the broken heart angle for much sympathy, and only she would know it was to get sympathy from his father and no one else, simply to get the old man to relax and not endanger his health. She would end up a pariah in the process.

Since she was stuck with the role, she did her best to perform it well, staying beside him as he chatted up sponsors and construction teams, clearly working on making connections for when he retired from racing at the end of the season, if he decided to go ahead as planned.

The race itself was as boring as she had expected it to be, and it was nothing like the very brief stint of being the driver that she had experienced yesterday in the fake race. She did her best not to yawn her way through it, but it was a relief when it was over hours later.

They enjoyed it intimate dinner at a sidewalk café before returning to their room and parting ways for the evening. After the brief kiss yesterday, she had made a conscious effort to avoid touching him, and he seemed to have adopted the same strategy. Reminding herself it was the wisest course didn’t take away the slight sting of regret she experienced when she imagined how close they could be right now if they were just silly enough to give in to the attraction simmering between them and not worry about the future.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on her frame of mind from m

oment to moment, she wasn’t the type not to worry about the future. She needed a plan for everything, and nowhere in her long-term plans could she see a place that comfortably accommodated Connor Blackwell. It was the same for him, of course. He wasn’t ready to settle down, and he had no interest in having a real fiancée or wife, so this approach was better, even if it meant living with a tinge of regret.

Chapter Seven

Three days after their return from Barcelona, Angelina was already ready to go back. They had returned amid a flurry of photographers and news media circling around the private hanger, or as close as they could get to it with security in the way, but fortunately, the paparazzi hadn’t been camped out in front of either one of their homes.