All Chapters of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The day my divorce was finalized, the sky broke open.I'd spent the afternoon in a downtown law office, signing papers that officially ended my three month marriage to George. My lawyer, provided by Damien, of course, had handled everything efficiently, keeping George and his new attorney, a sharp featured woman named Claire, at the opposite end of the conference table. George had tried repeatedly to catch my eye, his expression cycling between wounded puppy and calculated charm. I kept my gaze firmly on the documents before me."Ms. Winters, if you'll sign here," my lawyer directed, pointing to yet another line requiring my signature. "And here. This formally dissolves your marriage and confirms the settlement terms."George had fought the divorce bitterly once he realized I wasn't coming back. He'd suddenly discovered a passionate attachment to our marriage vows, conveniently forgetting he'd been the one to file first. Only after weeks of legal maneuvering had he reluctantly agreed

That single plea seemed to break something in him. He kissed me again, harder, deeper, his body pressing mine against the wall. I felt the evidence of his arousal against my stomach, hard and insistent through the thin fabric of his pajama pants.His mouth left mine to trace a burning path down my neck, teeth scraping lightly over my pulse point. I arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair to hold him there. When he reached the junction of my neck and shoulder, he bit down gently, then soothed the sting with his tongue."Oh..!" I gasped, unprepared for the jolt of pleasure the action sent straight to my core.He pulled back slightly, eyes dark with desire but still watchful. "Too much?""Not enough," I answered truthfully.Something like a growl rumbled in his chest. His hands moved to the tie of my robe, pausing there. "May I ?"I nodded, unable to find my voice as he untied the sash and pushed the silk from my shoulders. It fell to the floor in a whisper of fabric, leaving me

I woke before dawn, my body immediately alert to the unfamiliar weight against my chest. Angel slept soundly, her breathing deep and even, one hand curled beneath her chin, the other resting over my heart. Her hair spilled across my pillow, a chaotic tangle of gold in the dim light filtering through the curtains.Last night had crossed a line I'd carefully drawn when proposing our arrangement. Physical intimacy without emotional entanglement — that had been my intention. Yet I'd stopped before taking what she'd clearly been willing to give, because something about Angel Winters made me want to be... better. More careful. More considerate than I had any right or reason to be.Fuck.I eased away from her, careful not to wake her as I slipped from the bed. She stirred, making a small sound of protest before burrowing deeper into the warmth I'd left behind. I stood watching her for a moment, struck by how young she looked in sleep, how vulnerable.The power had come back sometime duri

She startled, turning to find me watching her. A blush immediately colored her cheeks — the first acknowledgment of last night. "Damien," she said, setting down the brush without having touched the canvas. "I didn't hear you." "Clearly." I entered the room, noting the organized chaos of her supplies, brushes meticulously arranged by size, paints grouped by color family, palette scraped clean in preparation. "You've been here a while." "Just... thinking," she admitted. "About painting? ...Or about last night?" Her blush deepened, but she met my eyes directly. "Both." I appreciated her honesty. It was refreshing after years of dealing with people who calculated every word for maximum advantage. "Regrets?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral. She considered the question, her head tilting slightly. "No" she said finally. "Do you?" "No." The simple exchange cleared some of the tension between us. Angel relaxed visibly, setting aside the brush she'd been clutching like a lifeline. "

"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