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Hannah
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His Fake Fiancee Hannah
HANNAH"WE'RE GOING TO ENIGMA TONIGHT."Sofia twists the cap off the bottle of tequila, before grabbing two shot glasses from our cupboard. With chipped paint and aged wood, our tiny apartment’s kitchen has seen better days, none of which we were here for."Ha." I pale at my roommate. "You are, like always. But I'm not."Enigma is a new club in New York, with lines that usually wrap around the building. This is my roommate's third attempt at convincing me to go, and she makes a tempting case—It's Sunday, masquerade night.Salting the rims, she tops both off with a lime wedge. She pours the liquor to the brim, before sliding one my way. The glass sings across the countertop, landing perfectly in my hand.No shock there, coming from an ex-bartender."Yes, we are," she says simply, bobbling her head. Gold hoops swaying on her earlobes, her dark brown hair and olive skin are flawless."Why?" I challenge. "I'm perfectly comfortable in our apartment.""Oh, I know you are." She raises her ey
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
HANNAH"DON'T GIVE ME THAT FACE." Sterling runs a finger down my arm.I jerk away, feeling as if a bucket of ice water dumps over my head."I'm not giving you anything."The music blares, and our table is busier than ever. No one pays us anyattention. Each person is drunker or higher than the next, dancing or fondling one another in the dimly lit alcove."But you are," he coos, removing his mask and revealing the strong, porcelain features beneath. Amusement dances in his eyes. "I think I'm feeling some moisture on my knees.""You're disgusting." I shoot to my feet, looking around for my shoes. "You think this is some kind of game? It's not. We're done."I snatch my short heels before I plot my behind on the cushioned seat, avoiding his gaze."Stop being so overdramatic. What you saw—you know I can explain if you'd actually let me."Anger pumps through me, and I shove my foot into my shoe roughly. "I'm overdramatic? Okay. Well, you're delusional. Delusional that you think there's any
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
HANNAHAGREEING to hook up with a complete stranger from a club an hour after meeting isn't one of the smartest decisions I've ever made.And neither is letting him book the hotel. The Ritz, I heard him say on the phone. Perhaps I heard him wrong. The club was deafening. But if I didn't... that's the most expensive hotel in the city. And he booked a suite.For a one-night stand.A privacy wall separates us from the driver as we sit in the backseat of a spacious vehicle. I take the middle, with my knee brushing against Damien's thigh.What were you thinking, girl? Are you trying to end up on Dateline? I imagine Sofia lecturing me after she finds out I ditched the club without saying goodbye.Who has their own personal driver, who shows up in five minutes to pick us up outside a club? Sterling didn't have a driver. Why am I only now asking myself these things?More intelligent and sensible questions flood my brain, but when a strong hand brushes against my knee, all the thoughts exit th
His Fake Fiancee Hannah’s a Minx
DAMIENForbidden fruit. A needy temptress under my touch. And as I drive her head down, the tip of my cock smacking the back of her throat, I force myself to remember why I can't have her.She's my younger brother's ex-girlfriend, and she doesn't even know. I had multiple opportunities to tell her, but I didn't.I yank her head up, relishing the way she gasps for air.I did warn her I wasn't the kind of guy she thought I was.But then my brother showed up at the club, all drunk and idiotic asusual. I remember how he touched her, his hand marking her leg. Anger swirls inside me.The way he spoke to her...My grip tightens on her hair. "Apologize.""W-what?" Her voice wobbles in the most perfect way."For making me crazy. That a perfect little thing like you would ever bewith a man like him."She stares at me, shock laced with desire in her eyes."Sterling? I—"Plunging her head down, her answer dies on a choked yelp. I hold herthere, my cock buried in her throat. "Don't say his name
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
HAVE you ever had such earth-shattering sex that you almost feel guilty over it? Like something that great couldn't just happen, not without losing something—dignity, innocence... something you haven't realized yet?Maybe I should feel bad for everyone around me. They're missing out on something monumental, life-altering, and they don't even know it. And how could they? They didn't experience what I did last night.I twirl a strand of hair between my fingers, bed sheets sprawling about my body like a sea of clouds. Did last night even happen, or was he some ghost figment of my imagination? But the lingering scent of him reminds me it was real.All of it.I noticed he was gone when I woke up five minutes ago, leaving me feeling disappointed but glad at the same time.I chew on my bottom lip.Would I have been able to look at him after that?Do I know how I feel?Do I regret it? No.But what if nothing will ever compare to that? Possible—probable,even.No, no, don't think like that. It
His Fake Fiancee Damien
MY FATHER TAUGHT me many life lessons, one of them about taking what I want.If I see something I want, I take it. No questions. I don't need a reason or a moral justification to lull me to sleep at night. All I need is the comforting fact that it's mine and no one else's.Just like the brunette standing in my personal meeting room, staring at me with the most intriguing anger. She doesn't realize it yet, but she's mine. The moment I saw her up against that window in the hotel with hunger and determination flashing behind her eyes, I knew she was my next taking.I want more than a one-night stand. I want her on her knees every night, batting her eyelashes and puckering her lips for me. I want to own all her moans, all her orgasms. And the thought of her under the touch of another man, especially my brother's, makes my skin boil.Call me obsessive and controlling, but it's the reason I started a multi- billion-dollar business using nothing but my brain and the power of negotiation.I w
His Fake Fiancee Hannah
RAIN SPLATTERS AGAINST THE WINDOW.I sit curled up on the couch in our living room, watching Seinfeld. I'm on season five, even though I've seen the show all the way through twice. It's my go-to comfort show that I turned on the instant I got home.Sofia is still gone. She texted me saying she's staying late for work. I haven't seen her since the club on Sunday night. We agreed to a late lunch together after my interview, but I texted her it ran long and to go without me.I'm still debating if I should tell her what happened today. I'm not sure how I feel. It's more complicated than when I dealt with the aftermath of Sterling. Then, I felt sad and stupid.And now? I shove my spoon into my tub of chocolate chip ice cream. Now I feel stupid and something else...Pissed. Yes, that's it.For two reasons.One, my chances of working on Silicon Avenue are approaching zero.The Bass family owns half of it, and their reach and influence must stretch down the entire street. My promising client
His Fake Fiancee Damien
THAT DID NOT COME OUT RIGHT.I've never done this before—how are you supposed to say that to someone? I sound like I've completely lost my mind.Her chair bursts away from the table, her mouth open on a silent exasperation. She looks frozen, as if she's deciding between staying here with me—who says crazy shit like that—or to bolt and run.My eyes travel downward, to the yellow sundress she's wearing, something so different from anything I've seen on her. It's no less distracting, with its cinched waist and floral design that brings out all her feminine features."Please, tell me I heard that wrong."My collared shirt suddenly feels too tight at the neck. "Hannah, we can help each other."She finally gets to her feet, grabbing her purse and rummaging through it, presumably for money to put on the table so she can ditch me.Her laugh edges with anger. "I don't care about some awakening or your stupid money. You're bad news, and I don't want to hear your fake reason why we need to prete
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