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Hannah
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His Fake Fiancee Damien
I PINCH the bridge of my nose, my elbows jamming on top of my desk.I should've seen it coming. Typical of my father to propose one thing, and then ask for three times as much. The deal is simple, or should be simple—Bass Mobile gets exclusive rights to the Nano-X chip for onefiscal year, and I get Sterling's shares indefinitely. Not for an allotted time.Forever.The back-and-forth with their lawyer has been exhausting. Not that I don't have my team of lawyers scouring through their proposal. In the end, we'll settle on the version we originally agreed to, because my father's desperate. His company is in need of my company's chips for their cellphones, and they're in no position to negotiate.My father is only trying to drag this out, clinging to what little dignity he has left.A smile creeps along my lips, right as a knock sounds at my door. "Mr. Bass." Arthur pops his head in. "I hope I'm not intruding."My shoulders relax, happy to see a familiar face.Arthur is the epitome of p
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
BAD DECISIONS, bad decisions, bad decisions.I tap my heel in quick repetitions, sitting quietly at my desk.You taunted him. You taunted him, and now you'll have to endure sittingthrough a date with him... with him touching you in public.Burying my head low, I try to read the notes the engineers gave me today during their progress report. Even though Sofia was there to explain half of what they showed me, I'm still having a difficult time decipheringtheir jumbled-up, scribbled mess.Seriously, do any of them have handwriting that's half-legible?I exhale sharply, translating the notes to a pristinely organized report. Damien told me it's due within the hour, and it's proving very difficult to finish, given the flurry of thoughts arguing inside my consciousness.So, what, you have one little wet dream, and you go along and decide to try on lingerie in front of your boss? Seriously, who does that?It wasn't my idea, I counter, knowing this internal feud is pointless, and I'm screwed
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
TONIGHT WENT SHOCKINGLY WELL.It felt almost... real. Like we aren't playing a game, acting as a serious and happy couple, ready for photos to be taken of us at any second.As we're walking by the tables, that sensation creeps back in, one caused by the intense friction from the lingerie I'm wearing. Each step is torturous, lulling me into a submission in Damien's arm that loops around my middle.Maybe that was his plan all along. I manage to think through the clouds of euphoria, my sensitive flesh pinching between the two elastic straps. Flirt, don't touch me, but the moment I get up to leave, he knows I’ll walk myself into liquid putty for him.Damien's arm tightens around the small of my back, his thumb sweeping in a slow rhythm, tempting me to give in to him. He wants me to be easy for him. He wants—"Well, well, look who it is," a drunken voice slurs to our immediate right, followed by a high-pitched cackle.Oh, no.Damien and I both stop in our tracks at the same instant, becaus
His Fake Fiancee Damien
EVEN THOUGH IT'S been a week since our date, I can still see the look my brother gave me at dinner when I close my eyes. The copious amounts of alcohol he ingested that night couldn't hide the rage on his face. Couldn’t conceal the jealousy in its purest form when he realized what I'd done, how I'd corrupted Hannah.But although I can't stop replaying the night in my head—the way she offered herself up to me, melted in my hands like chocolate—one nagging thought refuses to leave my brain.Did she do it because she wanted it? Because she wanted me?Sterling's words slither about in my brain, the ones he threw at me during our family gathering. If she's messing around with you, it's only to get my attention.Maybe he was right. Maybe the notorious playboy broke her heart, and I'm a stepping-stone to get back to who she really wants.John appraises me through the rearview mirror of the car, clearly reading my torment. I avoid his eyes, trying not to think about how good Hannah looks sitt
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
I'VE ALWAYS LOVED THUNDERSTORMS. But I've never seen one from this high up.Sitting criss cross on the couch in fascination, my eyes glue to the white light rippling across the clouds, shining above central park. I shovel the next handful of popcorn in my mouth, the buttery goodness sparking my tastebuds.The city is still as busy as ever, the color of grid-locked cars on the streets smearing through the wet windows. People who move along sidewalks look like little dots from up here.I have all the lights off to get the best possible view of the storm. When the next strike flashes, I whip my head around, scanning the dark room.No one.Arthur already went to bed, seeing as it's nearing midnight, but it would be nice to watch it with someone. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. Just me in a multi-million-dollar penthouse in pajamas with my popcorn to watch the storm.Couldn't he at least get a cat?A knot twists inside me, thinking of how Sofia would kill to be here right now. Ma
His Fake Fiancee Damien
I TAP MY FOOT IMPATIENTLY, pressing my phone to my ear. "And why couldn't we let John drive us to this secretive date of yours again?"A full duffle bag sits on the ground by my feet as I wait in the apartment's parking garage. She said we would be gone the entire weekend and hasn't given me a single hint about where we're going or what we're doing.It's not that I hate surprises, it's just... that I do. They're uncontrollable. And that sentiment alone goes against my very nature."Where's the fun in that?" Hannah's voice spews from the phone, and I jerk my head away before bringing it back to hear the familiar honking of the New York streets coming from her end. "And besides, you offered me your company card for the rental, so I couldn't resist."I sigh, staring at the rows of luxury cars, many of them mine. "Do you know how many cars I own?"Twenty-two of them, I don't tell her, each one a different supercar imported from around the world, several a slim few of their kind. Admittedl
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
HANNAH"WHEN YOU SAID I needed to live a little, this is not what I thought you had in mind."Damien wears a scowl as he dips his gloved hand into his bucket once more, before tossing the next round of chicken feed. His back slouches, preventing his head from hitting the short ceiling of the chicken coop.I mirror his movements but without gloves, the dry feed of grain and canola bundling in my palms. "A relaxing day at Lockwood Farms could lift anyone's spirits."During our first date, when he agreed I could plan the next one, I truly thought he needed a change of pace in his life. But it wasn't until I saw the horrors in his eyes the night of the thunderstorm that I realized he was desperate for it. Fake relationship or not, from then on, I was determined to take his mind off work.And when my mom called a few nights ago about needing someone to watch the farm for the weekend while they took my younger brother off to college, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to distract him."
His Fake Fiancee Damien
HANNAH POPS THE HOOD, lifting the green metal high above her head. The tractor she works on is a mechanical beast, with wheels the height of her chest and stairs leading up to the driver's seat.I bury my hands in my pockets, balancing on the balls of my heels. I'll admit it. This place is impressive, a true man-cave that must be the dream of most middle-aged men. Metal signs hang high on the walls of the garage, spouting recognizable names like Ford, Coca-Cola and Shell. They appear to be retro, much like a truck in the corner, with its rounded edges and small wheels.Through the windshield, glossy seats stand out in the interior that was clearly refurbished by someone who knew what they were doing. Another car sits beside the truck, cloaked in mystery by a protective sheet draping over it, offering a vague outline of its exterior. The only other clue given is the shiny red paint left uncovered in one spot near a tire.Hannah... the mechanic? I quirk my brow, a smile creeping on my l
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