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48 - Tokyo

Author: Grace Kara
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-05-10 21:50:14

Tokyo unfolded before me like a living painting, vibrant, chaotic, and utterly mesmerizing. From our suite's floor to ceiling windows, I watched neon lights pierce the evening darkness, transforming the cityscape into something from a futuristic dream.

Behind me, Damien spoke rapid Japanese into his phone, his voice a low, melodic backdrop to my thoughts.

Three days into our trip, and I still couldn't quite believe I was here, in Tokyo, in this impossibly luxurious hotel, with him.

The exhibition opening had been a whirlwind of success I hadn't dared imagine.

Collectors had fought over my butterfly emergence series, critics had praised the emotional depth of my work, and through it all, Damien had remained a steady presence at my side, his hand occasionally finding the small of my back in that possessive way that no longer bothered me.

Now, halfway across the world, our pretense had begun to blur even further.

Here, away from the watchful eyes of those who knew us in New York, we
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  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   48 - Tokyo

    Tokyo unfolded before me like a living painting, vibrant, chaotic, and utterly mesmerizing. From our suite's floor to ceiling windows, I watched neon lights pierce the evening darkness, transforming the cityscape into something from a futuristic dream. Behind me, Damien spoke rapid Japanese into his phone, his voice a low, melodic backdrop to my thoughts.Three days into our trip, and I still couldn't quite believe I was here, in Tokyo, in this impossibly luxurious hotel, with him. The exhibition opening had been a whirlwind of success I hadn't dared imagine. Collectors had fought over my butterfly emergence series, critics had praised the emotional depth of my work, and through it all, Damien had remained a steady presence at my side, his hand occasionally finding the small of my back in that possessive way that no longer bothered me.Now, halfway across the world, our pretense had begun to blur even further. Here, away from the watchful eyes of those who knew us in New York, we

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   47 - Drawn To Her

    I nodded. "They're remarkable little butterfly. Especially knowing the personal connection to your mother's work." Her eyes softened at the nickname. "You've been extraordinarily thoughtful. I don't know what to say." "Say you'll accompany me to Tokyo next week," I suggested, the invitation that had been on my mind for days finally finding voice. "I have business there after your exhibition opens. It would be... pleasant to have you along." The formal phrasing made her smile. "Pleasant?" I cleared my throat, unaccustomed to the awkwardness I felt. "Enjoyable. I enjoy your company, Angel." "High praise from Damien Salvatore," she teased gently. "Are you sure your business associates are ready for a fiancée tagging along?" "They'll adapt," I replied dryly. "And there's an arts district I thought you might appreciate. For inspiration." Her smile widened. "So this is a business trip with sightseeing opportunities." "If you prefer to think of it that way." Angel studied me for a m

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   46 - Significant Difference

    Sophia ignored me. "Promise me something, Angel." "Of course" Angel replied without hesitation. "Don't let him retreat when I'm gone. He'll try to shut down, lock everything away." My mother's eyes, so like my own, held a pleading quality I'd rarely seen. "He needs your light more than he knows." Angel's grip on my hand tightened. "I promise," she said softly. The simple exchange, laden with meaning I wasn't prepared to examine, made something twist painfully in my chest. Before I could respond, Sophia's eyes drifted closed, the sedatives finally taking effect. "We should go," I said, gently extracting my hand from hers. "She needs to rest." Outside the hospital, the night air was cool against my face, grounding me after the surreal conversation in my mother's room. Angel remained silent as Marco drove us back to the estate, her hand still in mine, as if she understood I needed the anchor but not the words. It wasn't until we reached the privacy of the mansion that she finally

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   45 - Hospital

    DAMIEN~The hospital corridor stretched before me, sterile and unforgiving under fluorescent lights. .I'd spent the past three hours watching doctors come and go from my mother's room, their faces carefully neutral while delivering progressively worse news. Angel had remained by my side the entire time, her small hand occasionally finding mine when she sensed my tension rising.Now, as we waited for the latest round of test results, she'd finally succumbed to exhaustion, her head resting against my shoulder as she dozed. I studied her face in repose...the sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, the slight part of her lips as she breathed. The vulnerability she displayed without hesitation continued to baffle me."Mr Salvatore?" I looked up to find Dr Jones approaching, clipboard in hand. Her expression told me everything I needed to know before she spoke a word."I'll wake her," I said quietly, gently rousing Angel with a light touch to her arm.She blinked awake immediately, disor

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   44 - Support Each Other

    As I came down from the high, I became aware of Damien watching me with naked hunger. "I want.... to taste you," I whispered, surprising myself with the admission. His eyes widened fractionally, the only sign of his shock at my requestb. "Angel, you don't have to— " "I want to," I insisted, sliding off the desk to kneel before him. "Show me how.... to please you." For a moment, I thought he might refuse. Then he nodded once, his hand gentle as he guided me. "Start slow," he instructed, his voice strained with restraint. "Use your tongue first." I followed his directions, exploring this new intimacy with curiosity and growing enthusiasm. The taste of him, the weight on my tongue, the way his breath caught when I found a particularly sensitive spot—all of it was intoxicating in its novelty. When I finally took him fully into my mouth, his hand tightened in my hair, not forcing but anchoring himself. "Christ, Angel," he groaned, the rare profanity telling me more about his pleasure

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   43 - Exploration

    I had no answer that wouldn't reveal too much of myself. Instead, I did the only thing that made sense in that moment, I rose on tiptoe and pressed my mouth to his. Unlike our previous kisses, this one began gentle, almost questioning. His lips moved against mine with careful restraint, letting me set the pace. But when I parted my lips in invitation, something snapped in his control. His arms wrapped around me, hauling me against his chest as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that matched my own. I threaded my fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft it felt despite its controlled appearance. He walked me backward until I felt the edge of his desk pressing against my legs, his body caging mine against the solid wood. "Tell me to stop," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire. "If this isn't what you want..." "Don't stop," I breathed. "Please." The plea broke his remaining restraint. He lifted me onto the desk in one fluid motion, stepping between my le

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   42 - Jealous

    The tension between us was unbearable during the ride back to the estate. Damien's declaration, ' You're mine' — echoed in my mind, both thrilling and terrifying me. His hand remained possessively on mine, thumb occasionally brushing my palm in a way that sent shivers up my arm. Neither of us spoke, the silence filled with unresolved questions and unspoken desires. Marco kept his eyes carefully forward, though I caught him glancing at us in the rearview mirror once or twice. I wondered what he thought of this arrangement that had clearly evolved far beyond its original parameters. When we arrived, Damien escorted me inside with his hand on the small of my back, a touch I was becoming familiar with, even dependent on. The mansion felt emptier than usual, with Rosa having taken Izzy to a doctor's appointment in the city. "I'll be in my study," Damien said, his voice formal again as we reached the grand staircase. "Take some time to rest. Today was... eventful." I watched him retr

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   41 - Belong With Me

    The possessive declaration should have triggered every feminist alarm in my body. Later, I'd examine why it had instead sent a thrill of something dangerously close to longing through me. For now, I stood silently beside Damien, aware of every patron and staff member watching the drama unfold.George's hands clenched at his sides. "You think you've won Salvatore. But I know Angel. She needs more than your money and your cold bed." His gaze shifted to me, suddenly gentle. "When you remember what real love feels like Angel, call me."With that parting shot, he stalked out, leaving uncomfortable silence in his wake.Damien's hand returned to my back, his touch steadying. " Are you alright?"I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. The confrontation had left me shaky, caught between anger at George's presumption and confusion over my reaction to Damien's territorial display.Elena approached, her expression a masterpiece of false concern"Oh my god, Angel! That was intense. Are you okay?""F

  • The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée   40 - Possession

    "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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