Chapter 11

Couch springs shove into my back, and I roll over while Carlee brews a coffee pod in the kitchen. The rich scent of caffeine wafts through the air, but I focus on pretending to be asleep. After last night, she’ll have a million questions I won’t be able to answer because of the NDA.

“Is Sleeping Beauty awake?” she asks from the end of the couch, and it takes every acting skill I have not to answer or smile.

Nearly ten minutes later, the front door opens and closes. Once she’s gone, I sit up and run my fingers through my hair before twisting it into a top bun.

I glance at the heels on the floor and my clothes that are in a small pile. Then, I recall last night.

I kissed him. I lost control.

And he did too.

I snatch my phone from the coffee table, open my Internet app, and type his name into the search bar, just like I did last night. Pictures of us kissing were taken from all angles, three hundred sixty degrees. Combined are pictures of Weston picking me up in the Mustang, and they think it’s Easton. They have no idea.

My eyes scan over the fresh articles that were written this morning. Easton is right; the tabloids are constructing the story about us.

I reread our convo from last night and chuckle at my bluntness, but I can’t deny the dash of flirting too.

He texted me good night, but when I saw he used Alexis, I didn’t respond. I’m a gangster, and I keep my read receipts on so people know I’m purposely ignoring them.

He knows I read it and ignored him. My energy is expensive and exclusive, something money can’t buy. Well, that’s not true. The price tag is twelve million dollars.

The thought of being his temporary wife almost sounds too good to be true. However, I think we could be good friends.

As I’m doomscrolling gossip sites, the door swings open, scaring the shit out of me. I almost scream, but when I see Carlee, my brows crease.

“Why are you grinning like that? Like you’re daydreaming.”

“Why are you home?”

“I forgot something.” She sounds breathless, like she ran back to the apartment. “What’s with the guilty look?”

I cover my face. “I signed an NDA and can’t talk about it. But I really, really want to talk about it.”

This makes her laugh as she plops down beside me on the couch. “Is this about Mr. Calloway?”

“He told me to call him Easton,” I say.

She’s smiling. “Already on a first-name basis. Nice.”

I clear my throat, knowing I need to watch what I say because this has to be locked tight if it will work. “Well, he also wants to date me.”

“Now I have a million questions. What the hell?” She stands and paces. “The answer is yes. Right?”

“I’ve known him for a week.”

“So what? Dating is the first step to forever, Lexi!” she squeals, and I see happiness radiating over her.

I almost feel guilty, knowing it’s a sham that I have to set up perfectly for everyone to believe.

“You do know he has a twin brother, right?” I ask.

She tilts her head at me. “Oh yeah, but isn’t he divorced or going through one? That’s a lot of baggage and other woman drama. No thanks!”

I burst out laughing. “I have no idea. But I did meet him.”

Her mouth falls open. “Meeting the family too? Damn, girl. Wait, did you tell him you’re anti-love? Like, he’s aware?”

“Yeah,” I admit. It’s the truth. “He understands and doesn’t care.”

She laughs loudly. “He’ll break you of that.”

“What? No! No, he won’t. It’s not like that, trust me.” I wish I could tell her everything.

“It’s exactly like that. Men like Easton Calloway don’t date just anyone. Especially him. This is a huge fucking deal.”

I shake my head, because she’s being serious and that scares the shit out of me more than anything. “You act like I’m going to fall in love with him.”

She pulls her phone from her pocket and pulls up photos of us. “Are you sure you haven’t? Look at how you’re kissing him. Totally into it. No shame. I would be too.”

She continues, “Not to mention the day you tried to Mission Impossible a watch return. You couldn’t even speak. Now, he’s picking you up in a vintage car with flowers and sends you home in a limo after an open-mouthed tongue kiss?”

“Actually …” I shake my head, not wanting to go deeper into it because the optics are on point and she’s confirmed that for me. Weston picking me up in Easton’s car was more calculated than initially intended, especially seeing the photos. Weston knew what he was doing—sneaky bastard. “Okay, you got me. You’re right.”

“Do you plan on seeing him tonight?”

I lick my lips. “No. Why? Do you want to do something?”

“Nah. I think I’ll come home, shower, and watch Bridgerton in my pajamas.” She checks her phone. “Shit, I gotta get going. If you call it quits with Easton because you’re too scared of falling in love with a gorgeous-as-fuck billionaire, tell him you know someone.”

I snort. “You’re terrible.”

“My body is ready.” She chuckles, walking past me. “I still want my trip to France, okay?”

She moves toward the door.

“Wait, I thought you forgot something?” I ask.

“Oh.” She pulls her subway card from her pocket and smirks. “It’s right here. Sometimes, the risk is worth the reward, Lexi.”

The door closes and I try to figure out why she’s acting weird.

My phone is unlocked next to me on the couch. I want to live in the moment as my fingers fly over the keyboard.

LEXI

Mr. Calloway, I’d love to continue our conversation at your earliest convenience.

Then, I see a read receipt without an immediate reply. He’s a savage too.

When he doesn’t respond, I know I’ve met my match.

Carlee is right; he will try to break me—I know that. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his raw truths, but that road goes both ways.

After I shower to clear my mind, I tighten my ponytail and leave our apartment.

It takes over half an hour to get across town, but I feel like the main character when I arrive at one of the largest independent bookstores in the world, with over eighteen glorious miles of books. It’s an escape.

The red and white sign stretches around the block, and inside awaits several stories of shelves so tall that I need a stool to reach the top. It also has that old-library smell that only a book lover understands. It’s one of the things I missed most when I moved back to Texas. Although we have a small bookstore in my hometown, the selection is limited.

I stroll down the aisles and read the back of each pink-and-purple romance book I find. Some make me smile, and others intrigue me, so I can’t decide what to buy. My TBR list is already a mile long, but I settle on another billionaire romance. I find it hilarious as I carry it to the front and push the book across the dark wooden counter.

The lady scans the barcode with a grin. “This is a great one.”

Our eyes meet, and I know we’re both smut queens. Proudly.

“I bet I know how it ends,” I tell her.

“I bet you don’t,” she says, and I’m intrigued all over again.

After I leave, I stare up at the sky, smiling as fast-moving clouds cast shadows on the ground, casting parts of the sidewalk in splotches of darkness. Sounds of cars zoom in the distance while classic music streams from businesses on book row. I overhear phone conversations of passersby on the street.

I smile, remembering why I love being here—I can be no one and someone, all at the same time.

Instead of getting on the subway, I purchase an iced coffee I can’t afford and walk to the park to read. I find a place under a tree that casts shade and look up at the diamond in the sky, wondering if Easton is there right now, looking down at me.

I chew on the corner of my lip and snap a picture with my phone from my current vantage point in the grass. The last photo in my phone is a selfie from up there.

I go back to my book, losing time while devouring the pages. The heroine and hero are on a helicopter above Seattle, and he kisses her mid-flight. While I don’t want to stop here, I head to the subway before the five-o’clock rush, or it will take me double the time to get home. I glance back at the diamond in the sky before rounding the corner.

After a train change and another twenty-minute ride, I walk into my apartment, open the windows, and return to the pages. I know they’re about to have hot, dirty sex for the very first time, and I’m giddy with excitement until I hear the loud revving of an engine.

The noise echoes off the surrounding buildings and pulls me away. I groan, annoyed, wanting to concentrate on the spice. The constant roaring goes on for thirty more seconds before I lose my shit. I grab the receipt and place it between the pages. I can’t be bothered with a bookmark.

I get up and search the street for the nuisance as I place my hands on the windowsill.

Immediately, I spot the jerk and scowl as I give the asshole a what the fuck shrug.

The guy removes the helmet, and I’m preparing to get cursed out. But that’s when I realize it’s him in rider gear.

Easton.

I shake my head. My heart rate ticks up. He waves me downstairs, and the smile on his beautiful face makes me want to risk it all.

Every alarm bell screams that I should walk away while I can, but he’s my ultimate temptation. And like he said, we could have fun in the process. It would be the adventure of a lifetime, wouldn’t it?

I take the four flights downstairs, and he unstraps a pink helmet from the back of his bike.

“Join me,” he mutters, holding it out toward me.

“You’re Easton, right?” I ask, looking down at the helmet, my favorite color, wondering how he knew.

He nods and smiles. “This time.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask, taking a mental snapshot of him leaning against that cherry-red bike.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises, his blue eyes shining like diamonds before he closes his visor. All I see is my reflection staring back at me.

I take the helmet and slide it over my head. It’s a perfect fit. Easton snaps the kickstand up and mounts it. I lift my leg, sliding behind him, scooting forward until my breasts press against his back.

“This is un-fucking-believable,” I mutter, shaking my head as I carefully snake my hands around his strong body.

Then, I hear him audibly chuckle from a speaker in my helmet. “Agreed. Hang on.”

He wasn’t supposed to hear that.

Excitement takes over as we zoom away.

“Of course they’re linked together.”

“Yeah. So we can chat if needed.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. I can already imagine the look on his face.

He slows at a stop sign, and his firm hand grips my thigh as he looks both ways. My heart pounds so fast that I swear I can hear it inside the quietness of my helmet.

Experiencing the city like this in the late afternoon is incredible. I look up at the buildings, taking it all in as we cruise by. I hold him a little tighter, wanting to get lost with him and live in the make-believe, even if it’s only for a year. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“What book are you currently reading?” he asks.

“Fifty Shades,” I tell him.

“Lie,” he says.

“Stalker.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t deny it.

“Well, joke’s on you. I’m into that shit,” I tell him with a laugh. “I’d be the worst person to try to kidnap. I read too much.”

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks.

“I think you’re gonna make me your wife.”

“Mmm. I think that’s still to be determined.”

His words come out in a deep rasp, and I can only imagine that devilish smirk on his bastard face. I’m only sad I don’t get to experience it.