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

That uncomplicated, sleeping boy had somehow made a reappearance, and the Marcus with me now was laughing, teasing, and completely unrestrained. I was smitten.

I also wasn’t sure if any of it was real.

From the minute we’d left the apartment, there had been cameramen on our trail. While this was as common a sight as the power lines to him, it was a completely new experience to me. They swarmed and buzzed like cicadas, getting much closer than I thought could be legally allowed. But before I could amp up to a full-out panic attack, I felt a set of long, cool fingers lace into mine. I glanced up in surprise to see Marcus grinning at me, leaning his head down and pressing it affectionately against mine.

“I bet you wish you’d worn a longer dress.”

He winked and slipped on a pair of sunglasses as I smacked him with a smile.

Once we’d gotten to the store—some designer place I’d never heard of but I bet would have made Amanda drool—the paparazzi had fallen away, but playful Marcus remained. He wandered in and out of the aisles, pulling out some pieces that were ridiculous, and some that made even a girl like me excited to try them on.

In the end, I opted for a sapphire-blue number that laced up my back in a labyrinth of ribbons and ended a few inches above my knees. When I inquired as to the price, he simply shot me a bored look and headed off to the front counter to pay.

“Would you like me to ring up the shoes, too?”

A woman who looked distractingly like Margaret Thatcher had been helping me change and was now pulling out a pair of jeweled stilettos that apparently “went with the dress.” My face blanked as I glanced down.

“Oh, um, I don’t know.” I looked up to the front of the store, wobbling slightly on the changing platform as I called up to the counter. “Marcus, should I also get the—”

“Yes.”

Well, that answered that.

I gave Thatcher a helpless shrug, and she helped hold me steady as I slid my feet into the towering heels. After she’d laced me in, I did a practice lap around the mirrors—thanking my lucky stars that Amanda and I had practiced walking in heels from the day we decided we’d grace the world of entertainment with our presence. Still—they were really freaking high.

“How do those feel?” she asked with concern. “Too loose?”

“No,” I reached out to the mirror to steady myself, “they’re good. Plus, it’ll give me something to do all night—try to stay standing.”

She laughed as if my discomfort was a complete novelty. “That’s right! You two should probably be getting on your way if you want to get to the gala.”

I glanced at her curiously. “Marcus told you about the gala?”

“Everyone knows about the gala.” She laughed again, like I was trying to pull her leg or something. “Mr. Taylor hosts it every year. It’s the event of the season.”

That’s right, seasons had events. Wait… Marcus was hosting?

I nodded distractedly and brightened up in relief when Marcus rejoined us. He gave me a quick once-over, looking genuinely impressed. “You are a vision.”

“And look how tall!” I couldn’t help but beam as I stepped up next to him, my eyes coming up to his nose. “Almost as tall as you.”

He took my hand and led me out to where a town car had pulled up outside. “Goodbye, ladies, thank you,” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you—” I tried to twist around as well, but the turning radius on my heels was not what I expected. With a gasp, my ankles slipped out from under me, and I went crashing to the ground. Except…I never made it there.

Marcus caught me just as easily as if we were back on the dance floor. I looked up breathlessly as he cradled my head in his hand—holding me just inches from the ground.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Heels aren’t really my thing. I nodded, and then shot him the biggest smile. “See what you do to me? You make me feel weak in the knees when I touch you.”

He flashed his dimples right as a flashbulb went off just a few feet away. I gasped in surprise, and he set me gracefully back on my feet.

“Always looking for attention,” he chided teasingly as another camera went off.

My eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but I smiled, ready to play along. “Well, sometimes people need to make a bit of a statement to get your attention.” I laughed delicately, to the delight of the cameras.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he said.