All Chapters of Fake Dating the Hollywood Billionaire : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sarra's povI was so horny it was hard to think straight.The clock ticked past two hours, then three, then four. I checked my phone every few minutes, but no texts from Ronan. My body burned, a constant ache between my legs that wouldn't quit. I'd tried everything to distract myself. First, I paced the condo, then did push-ups and squats in the living room until sweat dripped down my back. That only made it worse, the blood pumping harder, heat building everywhere.I changed into a swimsuit from his guest closet—some tiny bikini left by who knows, probably Lexi, and hit the balcony pool. I swam laps, hard and fast, the water cool against my skin. But every stroke reminded me of him, his hands, his mouth. My thighs rubbed together underwater, and I had to stop, gripping the edge, breathing heavy. This was torture. Pure hell.By late afternoon, I gave up and showered again, this time hot water, hoping to relax. It didn't. I dressed in shorts and a tank, flopped on the couch, and scr

Sarra’s POVI woke up to the smell of coffee before I even opened my eyes. The sunlight streamed through the blinds, soft and warm against my face.“Morning, sleepyhead.”I blinked and found Ronan standing by the bed, holding two mugs. His hair was still damp from a shower, sticking up in random directions, and he was wearing a gray T-shirt that looked far too good for something that simple.I sat up, clutching the sheets. “You made coffee?”He handed me a mug. “I’m full of surprises.”I took it, still half-asleep. “What’s the catch?”He grinned. “We’re leaving.”“Leaving where?”“LA.”I choked on the sip I’d just taken. “What?”“Just for the day,” he said casually, setting his mug down. “You, me, my car. No schedule, no drama, no paparazzi. You in?”I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”“Completely. You’ve been cooped up in this condo for days. Come on, you’re starting to look like one of those people who yell at pigeons for fun.”I threw a pillow at him. “I do not.”He laughed, catch

Sarra’s POVBy evening, I was standing in front of a mirror while a stylist pinned my dress. The gown was a deep emerald silk that hugged my waist and draped over one shoulder, the kind of thing that screamed expensive without needing a label. My hair was smooth and shiny, makeup soft and camera-ready.Ronan, of course, looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine. Black tailored Saint Laurent suit, white shirt open at the collar, wristwatch that probably cost more than my rent for a year. His hair was pushed back, and the wink he gave me when I walked out of the dressing room was enough to make my stomach flip.“Wow,” he said, straightening his cufflinks. “You’re gonna make every PR camera forget my name.”“Don’t start,” I warned, grabbing my clutch. “This isn’t a date.”“Tell that to the tabloids,” he said, offering his arm. “Come on, Miss Mystery Girlfriend. Let’s sell this love story.”****The event was at one of those Beverly Hills hotels with chandeliers that could bli

Ronan’s POVLunch meetings were supposed to be simple. Shake hands, talk numbers, make sure the client thinks I’m the kind of man who never loses control.Today was going fine. The restaurant was all glass walls and polished marble, the kind of place where even the air smelled expensive. My client, Martin, liked to talk too much, but he was signing a three-year deal, so I let him.I’d just finished my drink when I noticed him.Ethan Vale.Of course.He was standing across the bar area, talking to some studio exec. Tan suit, open collar, that practiced Hollywood charm turned back on like a switch. For a second, I almost didn’t recognize him—he looked thinner, tired. Then he saw me.His jaw tightened. He turned back to his drink like I was invisible.Martin was still talking about sponsorships, but I’d stopped listening. All I could think about was Sarra’s face last night after that hallway scene. The way her hands shook even when she tried to smile.“Excuse me a sec,” I said, standing

Ronan’s POVI knew she was going to kill me.Not metaphorically. Actually, kill me. Probably with her heels. And I kind of deserved it.The PR team had called two hours ago, saying the magazine interview got moved up. Instead of next week, it was today. I didn’t exactly tell Sarra until we were pulling into the studio parking lot.“Wait,” she said, turning to me. “What do you mean by interview?”I smiled, trying to be casual. “You know, the cover story. We have to sell ourselves as Hollywood’s Most Unexpected Couple.”She blinked and her hand went to her forehead. “You forgot to tell me.”“I didn’t forget,” I said quickly. “I… strategically delayed.”She glared. “Ronan.”“Okay, fine. I forgot.”She exhaled, muttering something about “men and communication.” I decided not to reply.****Inside, the studio buzzed with stylists, lighting techs, and PR people. A giant backdrop with the magazine’s logo covered one wall. Coffee cups everywhere. Chaos wrapped in expensive perfume.Our stylis