Chapter 15

AARON

I looked up from my phone and I swear, I lost a few brain cells in the process.

Venus.

She looked... different. Good different. The dress clung to her like it had been stitched onto her skin, framing her figure in ways that made me seriously question my own damn self-control. No bra. Which meant I had a full, unfiltered view of her cleavage with every breath she took.

She looked like the goddess she was named after. Divine. Ethereal. Dangerous.

But she was thin. Not alarmingly so just enough that I made a mental note: feed her more. Take care of that. Fill her out the way a woman like her deserved. She was already every man’s fantasy… but I wanted her to be mine alone.

Yeah, to be the fake husband, I had to start thinking like one. Yeah right.

This was going to be a problem.

I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring until she spoke.

“Uh, Mr. Sinclair?”

I blinked, snapped out of the haze, and moved to open the passenger door for her. A small recovery. Smooth enough to cover just how stupidly starstruck I’d been.

I slid into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and the engine purred to life.

“You look so... normal. Whoever styled you worked a miracle,” I said, instead of what I actually wanted to say.

She looked offended.

“Uhm, thanks,” she muttered.

Yeah. I definitely messed that up.

The drive was awkward, painfully so. I gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary, focusing on the road just to avoid glancing at her legs. Or her mouth. Or the curve of her neck. Anything that might make me crash. She wasn’t supposed to be this distracting. That was part of the reason I chose her in the first place.

Eventually, she broke the silence with small talk. I welcomed it.

When we arrived at the restaurant—Élan Noir—we were led to my usual table. Secluded. Quiet. The kind of place where deals were made and secrets stayed buried.

Wine was served almost immediately. I offered to order for her, and to my surprise, she agreed.

She took a sip, raised a brow. “This is good.”

“It’s a 1785 Château Margaux,” I said, allowing myself a small smile. At least she had taste.

She peered down at the glass. “How much is a glass?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

Her eyes widened. She set it down like it had scorched her. “You’re kidding. It’s just a glass. And it doesn’t even taste that good.”

I chuckled. “But you just said it was good.”

“I lied.”

“Yeah, right.”

Just then, the waiter returned with our food. I’d ordered the Wagyu tenderloin with truffle mash for myself, and for Venus, the lobster ravioli in saffron cream sauce—rich, elegant, not too heavy.

She stared at her plate.

“Uh, what’s this called? I know lobster…”

“It’s lobster ravioli in saffron cream sauce.”

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m remembering that. It looks nice though.”

She took a bite. “And tastes even better.”

This... this was the most I’d heard her talk since she started working for me. Hell, it was the most I’d interacted with her—period. And I was starting to realize something.

Venus wasn’t shy. Or quiet.

She was animated. She was expressive. Tonight, she looked happy, not like the girl who usually carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Glad you like it.”

She leaned in slightly. “Soooo… what story are we going with?”

Ah, right. That. The real reason for this date.

“We just clicked. Fell in love,” I said with a casual shrug. Too casual. I couldn’t afford to mess this up, and that answer sounded like a last-minute lie.

She raised an unimpressed brow. “Yeah, right. As if everyone at work doesn’t know how much you dislike me.”

Okay, fine. That... was true.

“You got anything better?”

She smirked. “Yes, I actually do have something better.”

I took a bite of my food and swallowed.

“Pray tell.”