He grows bolder with his touches as his thumb traces my bottom lip. It sends a rush of warmth through my body.
“So, I was thinking…” I speak louder, gaining the attention of my target.
“That can never be a good thing.”
I laugh as I shove his shoulder. “Shut up. We both know you actually like my brain.”
“I like your heart more.”
For someone who sucks at using anything but grunts and orders to communicate, he sure knows how to make my insides melt from a single sentence.
Except it’s all a lie. “That’s…sweet.”
His lips press together in a thin line. I wonder if he does it to stop himself from laughing aloud.
“Anyway…I thought we could do something fun this weekend.”
“Define fun.”
“I want to host a little family get-together.”
His eyes speak of a hundred unspoken promises. There is no way he will go along with this plan, but it’s fun to pretend for the reporter’s sake.
“What kind of get-together?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“An F1 watch party!” This time, my smile is genuine. The idea seems like the perfect way to help Rowan and Declan get over their disagreement. Plus, I would love to spend more time with Zahra, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.
“No.”
I frown. “Why not? Rowan will be in town for a budget meeting, so it’s the perfect time for all of us to get together.”
He avoids my gaze as he assesses his menu. “That’s our thing.”
The way he says it makes my body buzz. “If you had it your way, everything would be our thing so that you never had to share me with anyone else, you territorial caveman.”
“I’m glad you finally understand. It took you long enough.”
Through the corner of my eye, I catch the reporter smiling at us.
“You can turn it down a notch. We’re married now. No one is going to swoop in and take me away from you. Although…”
“Don’t.”
The reporter scoots her chair a few inches closer.
“I would leave you for one man and one man only.”
He raises a brow. The reporter nearly tumbles out of her chair from the way she leans forward to hear us.
I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe two men.
Absolutely three tops!”
He sighs. “This list of F1 drivers seems to be growing by the week.”
“It’s all your fault.”
“I’m well aware of my short-sightedness. Trust me when I say I regret it every single day.”
My smile turns flirtatious. “You’re cute when you get all possessive.” I don’t mean it, yet his nostrils seem to flare regardless.
“Not sure you’ll be feeling the same way once we get home.”
A blush spreads from my cheeks down my neck, unbeknownst to him. I expected Declan to entertain a fake date because his reputation needs it, but I didn’t think he would elicit all these reactions from me. My body doesn’t seem to understand his promises are nothing but fake. Hell, my brain is having a hard time making sense of the way his eyes seem to darken, the blacks of his pupils eating away at the dark brown irises.
I swallow the lump in my throat and pray I can make it through a few more of these. Deep down, I know it isn’t real, but my body seems to have a hard time understanding his words are nothing but empty promises.
I should have known going on a fake date would be a bad idea, but I don’t have many options. The only thing I can control is how much time I interact with him. Because if tonight is any hint at what the future might look like, I’m not sure I have the power to resist him. At least not when he talks and does things that make my heart race and my skin flush.
So what happens if our fake dating game turns into more? I’m too afraid to answer the question, although I think I have a good idea.
Sex. Love. And heartbreak.
25
DECLAN
I thought Iris’s idea of going on a fake date was ridiculous until I actually sat down and realized I have her undivided attention for at least two hours. It reminds me of our honeymoon and the dinner we had together.
Except this time, she is solely focused on putting on a show while I’m more interested in getting to know her. Not the person she is during work hours or the hidden glimpses I get when she lets her guard down, but the real her.
“If you didn’t have to work, what would you do on weekends?”
She rears back. “Like if I had a day off?”
“You have Sundays off.”
“I’m usually too dead to move by then, so I prefer vegetating in my bedroom. I’ll only come out for water and food.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m exhausted. Working for you sucks up all my energy so by the time I get to the weekend, I’m running on fumes.”
This conversation is quickly taking a turn back to work, and for once, I have no interest in speaking to Iris about business.
“Fine. What would you do if you weren’t tired or working?”
She laughs. “Honestly, I have no clue. The things I used to do don’t really apply anymore.”
“Like?”
“Grabbing brunch with friends. Spending the whole day movie hopping.
People watching at the zoo. The options are endless really. I’m pretty easy to entertain, so long as it isn’t anything that requires much thinking.”
“When’s the last time you did any of that?”
She looks up at the ceiling. “Huh. Cal and I went to the movies a couple months ago.”
“Together?”
“No. We went to separate theaters and called each other afterward to discuss the plots.” She laughs. “Of course we went together. Who else do I have to go with?”
“A boyfriend?”
“After the last one ended in a rejected proposal, no.”
A pity. “What about a friend?”
“Cal is my friend.”
“Another friend? Preferably of the same gender?”
Her laugh comes out sad. “I don’t have any more of those.”
“Why not?”
She looks down at her plate. “Turns out people stop inviting you places when all you do is say no.”
“Why did you say no?”
“We lived two very different lifestyles. Most of my friends had nine-to-five jobs and worked only five days a week. At first, I tried to keep up with them, but eventually I was burning myself out. I had to choose between my job and my life, and we know how that went.” She motions toward me.
The look on her face stops me from asking anything else. A strange feeling in my gut comes to life, and I can only label it as one thing.
Guilt. It’s my fault she has no friends. Well, none except for Cal and me, that is.
You’re the one who told her you don’t want to be her friend.
My stomach churns as I consider how I rejected her friendship. With so few left, I’m sure she takes them very seriously.
That’s why she helped you in the first place. She really does consider you a friend.
Except I don’t want to be her friend. Not when she elicits all these feelings inside of me that are nothing close to platonic.
Who said you can’t be both?
I should have never ordered another drink after our empty plates were removed from in front of us. The amber liquid serves as a reminder of my moment of weakness. Iris was ready to go the moment the reporter paid her bill and left, but I was the one who wanted to stay.