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40 - Possession

Author: Grace Kara
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-04-26 14:02:29

"Oh my god!!" Elena squealed once he was out of earshot. "Richard Knight wants to see your work! Do you know how many artists would kill for that chance?"

"It's probably just courtesy," I said, slipping the card into my pocket.

"Don't be stupid" she chided, linking her arm through mine and leading me toward the staff room. "This is your chance to establish yourself independently. You know, so you're not just Damien Salvatore's arm candy."

The barb stung more than it should have. "I'm not arm candy."

Elena's expression softened into faux sympathy. "Of course not, honey. But let's be real - your engagement happened awfully fast after your divorce. People talk. Having your own career would shut them up."

I disentangled myself from her arm, anger rising at her manipulative concern. "I don't really care what people say about my relationship."

"You should," she persisted. "Especially since —"

The gallery door chimed, cutting her off. We both turned to see George striding in, d
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  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   57 - Interruption

    His hands slid down my body, his palms warm against my skin through the thin cotton of my dress. He lifted me effortlessly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me deeper into the boathouse, laying me down on an old, paint splattered canvas drop cloth spread over a worn chaise lounge. The rough texture of the canvas against my bare legs was surprisingly erotic. He knelt beside me, his eyes devouring me. Slowly, reverently, he began to unbutton my dress, his colorful fingers a stark contrast against the pale fabric. With each button undone, he pressed a kiss to my newly exposed skin, leaving faint smudges of paint that felt like brands. When the dress was open, he pushed it aside, his gaze lingering on my simple bra and underwear. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Beautiful.” he murmured, dipping his fingers into a nearby pot of crimson paint. He then traced the outline of my lace bra with the vibrant color, his touch sending shivers of anticipation through me.

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   56 - Colors

    He studied me for a long moment, his gaze intense. Then, a flicker of something I couldn’t name crossed his face. He picked up a clean brush, then a tube of cerulean blue. Without a word, he dipped the brush and then, instead of turning to the canvas, he reached out and drew a gentle line of blue along my cheekbone. The touch was feather-light, unexpected. The paint felt cool against my skin. I stood frozen, my breath catching in my throat. “What are you doing?” I whispered. His eyes never left mine. “Adding a little color to the gray day.” He dipped another brush into a vibrant yellow, tracing a delicate swirl on my collarbone, just above the neckline of my simple cotton dress. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world, little butterfly.” The endearment, spoken so softly, coupled with the unexpected intimacy of his touch, made my knees weak. “I... I am worried. About Sophia. About.... everything.” His fingers, now smudged with blue and yellow, came up to gently cu

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   55 - Don't Have to Hide

    The weight of Sophia’s illness and the unspoken tension between Damien and me had settled over the estate like a suffocating fog. Days blurred into a routine of hospital visits, hushed conversations, and stolen moments where Damien’s guard would slip, only to be hastily rebuilt. Evelyn Ivanov’s presence was a constant, subtle pressure, her knowing glances and shared history with Damien a silent counterpoint to whatever fragile thing was growing between us. George, too, was a persistent shadow, his texts and calls a steady drip of reminders of a past I was desperate to escape but that he was determined to resurrect. One afternoon, seeking refuge from the oppressive atmosphere of the main house, I found myself wandering the grounds. Izzy had mentioned Damien’s ‘secret painting place’ weeks ago —the boathouse by the lake. I’d tried to respectnhis privacy then, but today, a strange pull led me toward it. The air was heavy, threatening rain, and the gray sky mirrored my mood. The b

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   54 - Brave Enough

    His face fell at the finality in my tone. "Can I call you? Just to talk?" "I don't think that's a good idea." Rosa guided Izzy toward the hospital entrance, giving us a moment of privacy. Once they were out of earshot, George leaned closer. "Is it because of him? Salvatore?" His expression hardened. "What does he have that I don't, Angel? Besides money?" The question, asked without self-awareness, almost made me laugh. "Respect," I said simply. "For me. For what I want and who I am." George's eyes narrowed. "You think he respects you? You're a temporary distraction, Angel. I've heard about him. He doesn't do relationships--he does transactions." The words echoed my own fears too closely for comfort. "You should go," I said, turning away. "He'll break your heart," George called after me. "And when he does, I'll be waiting." I didn't respond, hurrying to catch up with Rosa and Izzy. Inside, as we rode the elevator back to Sophia's floor, Izzy studied me with unnerving intensity.

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   53 - Goodbye

    Sophia's gaze sharpened despite her weakness, moving between us. "I see.""I'm surprised Damien left you alone," Evelyn continued, changing the subject. "He must trust you implicitly.""He's gone to rest," I explained. "He's barely slept all week.""And you volunteered to stay." She nodded approvingly. "very devoted."Something in her tone made the compliment feel like an accusation. Before I could respond, my phone chimed with an incoming message. A glance showed George's name on the screen, sending an unwelcome jolt through me."excuse me," I murmured, stepping away to check the message.Angel, please. Just five minutes. I need to explain. I'm outside the hospital.I closed my eyes briefly, fatigue making it difficult to process this new complication. George had been relentless in his pursuit since the gallery confrontation, sending flowers, notes, even attempting to contact me through Elena at work. Each gesture precisely calculated to appeal to the romantic fantasies he'd once m

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   52 - Memorable

    "Italian poetry," I explained, nodding toward the book on the nightstand. "She's been teaching me proper pronunciation." "She's a quick learner," Sophia said, her eyes never leaving Damien's face. "Perceptive. Sees beyond surfaces." I recognized her intent, trying to make her son understand my value before she no longer could. The realization brought a lump to my throat. "I should let you two have some time alone," I said, standing. "I'll get some coffee." Damien caught my hand as I passed, the gesture so unexpected it halted me mid-step. "Stay," he said quietly. "Please." I nodded, settling into the chair beside him. For the next hour, we sat with Sophia as she drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally sharing memories that made Damien's jaw tighten with emotion he refused to display. When she finally fell into deeper sleep, monitored by the nurses who came and went with practiced efficiency, Damien rubbed his eyes wearily. "You should go back to the house," he said. "

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