Billionaire Bad Boy's Fake Bride: BWWM Romance Read online

  She did her best to put it all behind her and try to get through the evening so that it remained a pleasant event for everyone. That was part of her job at the moment.

  Connor played his role well, never allowing her far from his side, his arm always around her waist to keep her near. When dancing started, they didn’t leave the floor for at least the first hour, and the music was all slow, probably deliberately arranged that way by William, an event planner, or perhaps even Connor himself—because he seemed to have forgotten all about their decision to be wise and back away from the attraction between them, knowing it was scripted to end badly.

  She was having trouble remembering that herself as he spun around the floor again, his arms clamping tightly around her as he pulled her back into his embrace, and his lips grazed hers. It was a quick kiss, followed by another and another, each lasting longer than the one before. If they hadn’t been in public, the focus of almost all the eyes in the room, she was certain neither one of them would have had the strength to pull away when they did. She cleared her throat and kept her voice pitched low. “You’re playing with fire here, Connor.”

  He groaned, pulling her even closer as he buried his face in the bend of her neck, his lips gently nibbling her skin before he spoke a second later. “I think I want to get burned.”

  She stiffened slightly. “You know how this ends. We both do.” Heaven help her, she was saying it just as much to remind herself as she was him.

  “Yes, but it doesn’t mean we couldn’t have a heckuva time before it’s over. Just think about it.”

  She groaned. “I have been. I wish I could stop thinking about it.” That was the truth. All night, all she could imagine was how it would feel to end the party by slipping into his room upstairs, since they were staying overnight in the mansion, and surrender to the tug of desire between them. She was having trouble remembering all the reasons why it was a bad idea, and she could feel herself weakening.

  She was in big trouble.

  ***

  After the party, he took her hand and pulled her up the stairs behind him, pausing near her door with questioning look. “Should I leave you here? Or do you want to go the rest of the way with me?”

  The rest of the way was way too far, and far too reckless. She knew that, and though her body was burning and her heart was pounding, she opened her mouth, licked her lips, and said the only sensible words that she could in the situation. “Take me with you, Connor.”

  His room was immaculate and just a shade larger than the one she’d been given for her use, and she was unsurprised to find they shared an adjoining door. Her future father-in-law—if she’d actually been marrying Connor, that was—had made it easy for them to be discreet.

  She wasn’t too worried about being discreet right now with the door closed behind them, and Connor’s hands moving over her body in a leisurely fashion. He was just touching her in a slow and careful way, his fingertips gliding over her skin as though he was absorbing the details of her molecular pattern through the whorls of his fingerprints.

  His mouth explored hers in a slow fashion, as though they had all night to taste each other. Knowing they did have all night, she was able to rein in the urge to rush, to push him down on the bed, climb on top of him, and ravish the man that she was suddenly desperately in lust with.

  Lust was all it was. That’s all it could be, and as long as she kept that in mind, there was nothing wrong with this little fling. It was just a harmless indulgence, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone. She just had to remember to keep it in perspective.

  When they reached the bed a few minutes later, it was a completely natural progression of events, and she had no hesitation when she laid down beside him, running her fingers through his dark blonde hair before she began to unbutton the buttons of his tuxedo shirt. “Has anyone ever told you, Connor, that you’re a beautiful man.”

  He grinned at her, looking arrogant, but also endearingly boyish at the same time. “No one’s ever said that, but I guess I didn’t need them to. I already knew it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Same old Connor.”

  He took her hand in his, preventing her from continuing to unbutton his shirt. “No, not really.” He was surprisingly intense as he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I feel completely different these days, Angelina, and I’m sure that’s because of you.”

  “Don’t spin me a line about changing, Connor. There’s no need to change anything. In fact, tonight changes nothing. We both know where this is headed, and we don’t need a bunch of pretty words or fake emotions clouding the issue, do we?”

  He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, though his expression looked faintly troubled. “I just don’t want you to think I’m using you.”

  He was oddly anxious, as though doubting she would believe his assertion, but she found it unnerving rather than touching. She wanted this to be a straightforward physical exchange, and she didn’t know what to think of his insistence of making it more intimate. Getting personal and emotional was a bad idea that would only lead to heartbreak, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall in love with Connor.

  That thought, more than any other, was what brought her to her senses and had her pulling her hand free from his. Rolling off the bed, she straightened her dress and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but I think this is a mistake. Excuse me, but I’m have to go now.”

  He looked dazed as he sat up, not even quite off the bed before she had made it to the door that joined their rooms. She threw it open and was past the doorjamb before he was close enough to reach out for her.

  “Angelina, wait. Come back please. Let’s talk about this.”

  She paused just long enough to look over her shoulder and shake her head. “There’s really nothing to talk about, is there? It was just the heat of the moment, and I’m sorry. I don’t do casual sex, and I think it would just make our situation more complicated. Good night, Connor.” Before he could argue with her, she closed the door in his face and locked her side. Perhaps that was overkill, but she felt better when the lock was in place. Like the last time she had locked herself on the other side of a door from him, she wasn’t sure if it was to keep him out or herself in.

  ***

  Connor stared at the closed door for a long moment, resting his palm against it. He was confused by how quickly she had changed her mind, and instinct urged him to pound on the door until she opened it and explained herself, so he could soothe away her worries and bring her back to his bed.

  Common sense exerted itself over instinct, forcing him to take a step back and turn away. He knew she had done the right thing, but it wasn’t just his physical state of frustration that left him aching and wishing she hadn’t experienced a sudden return of logic that had propelled her from his bed and back to her own room. Right now, he could be losing himself in the silken depths of his fiancée, rather than blocked from her by a solid wooden door and her own rejection.

  Fake fiancée, he mentally corrected, several beats too late. Dammit. Was she really starting to feel like his actual fiancée? Was he falling for the woman who was playing the role of his fiancée? He was the one who had written the ending, so he knew what she had to do.

  Falling for her would be a colossal mistake, the kind that would change his life, and probably not for the better. Angelina showed no signs of having fallen for him, and she seemed to have no doubt about the outcome of their approaching wedding. He was certain if he tentatively suggested that she not leave him at the altar, she would laugh herself silly or run away in fear.

  Not that he was actually considering canceling the jilting. That would mean accepting the idea of a wife. Any wife sounded pretty horrific when he wasn’t in love with someone. Angelina would make a nice wife though, he had to concede. She was sweet and sexy, but also studious and responsible. She knew how to get things done, and his father liked her.

  “Whoa,” he cautioned himself as he went into the bathroom and pr
epared to take a cold shower. Those were dangerous thoughts he was having. Unless he was really prepared to settle down, he’d better rein them in quickly.

  And even if he was prepared to think about something long-term and permanent, he was certain Angelina wasn’t. She would probably let him down easily, even kindly, but she would still reject the idea out-of-hand.

  She had definitely done the right thing by calling a halt to their fledgling lovemaking session.

  That didn’t mean he didn’t go to bed with chattering teeth and a core temperature a few degrees lower than normal from the cold shower he used to temporarily suppress his unruly libido. Just as he drifted off to sleep, the image of her as she had been lying on the bed beside him—not even undressed—was enough to send his erection back to life and leave him in an aching, sleepless state for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Eight

  “He’s been cheating on you,” said Brenda with a purr of satisfaction as she slammed a handful of tabloid papers down on the table in front of Angelina. Her pleasure was evident in the way she smirked from her perch towering over where Angelina sat at the table in the airport, awaiting Connor’s arrival.

  For just a brief moment, her stomach squeezed with dread as she braced herself to see unpleasant proof of Connor’s relationships. Brenda couldn’t know that he wouldn’t technically be cheating, though she was going to be angry with him if there was some truth to the rumors, simply because they were enacting this whole charade for his father’s benefit, and having Connor outed as a cheater wouldn’t be beneficial to anyone. Unless he was setting it up as her out for ending the relationship before their marriage in eight days?

  The pictures were lurid, all right, and featured Connor in a serious lip lock with a vivacious redhead. She didn’t like looking at the pictures, though she did not examine too deeply why that was, and instead turned her attention to the headline, which screamed:

  Playboy Racer Cheats On Fiancée Two Weeks Before He Pops The Question

  She skimmed the article briefly, quickly realizing the photos were from a tryst in which Connor had indulged two weekends before he had been maneuvered into proposing to her to placate his father. With a cool expression, she looked up at Brenda. “Is that all?”

  Brenda frowned, clearly having expected a greater reaction. “It’s in all those different papers, and I was promised…I’ve heard it’s going to be in even more.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the next paper, this one featuring an exotic-looking woman from Connor’s last trip to Brazil, almost two months ago. As she went through the gossipy article, her gaze grew even narrower when she ran across a suspicious quote that she read aloud, “A friend of the family confides that Connor’s fiancée was unknown to the family until the weekend of the engagement party. The source speculates there’s more to do with dollar signs than affection in their union.”

  With a grimace of disgust, she shook her head at Brenda. “I’m sure I have no trouble guessing who the close family source was.” She scowled as another idea occurred to her. “And probably the source of that leak when reporters somehow got the impression Connor had beaten me when Kevin hit me on accident.” She felt bad for a moment, since she had assumed it was one of the women Carly had brought into her home, but could see the confirmation of her guess in Brenda’s startled expression. “Do you really think any of this is going to end our engagement, Brenda?”

  With the other woman’s evil machinations, it was tempting to just throw caution to the wind and show up the day of the ceremony. That would be her only reason, of course. After all, she and Connor had been very careful to dance around each other the last week-and-a-half, carefully avoiding alone time and physical contact as much as possible. It had certainly made things easier. In fact, she was barely attracted to him at all.

  And she was the world’s biggest liar, especially when trying to get herself to believe that nonsense. With a sigh, she returned her focus to Brenda.

  “If you really loved him, you’d care that he was cheating on you before you got engaged.”

  “Our relationship, and what it was before our engagement, is none of your business. What are you even doing here? I’m waiting for Connor to arrive so we can fly to Monaco for the next grand prix—.” She barely held back a groan of dismay as it struck her why the other woman might be there. “Don’t tell me you managed to wrangle an invitation?”

  Brenda smiled at her—a cold, fleeting grimace more than a cheerful expression of delight. “I don’t really need to wrangle an invitation, as you put it. I’m practically like a sister to Connor, and you’re the interloper here, not me. In fact, I’m certain if I told Connor just how rude you’ve been to me, that would be enough to disrupt your engagement.” She said the last word like it was a foul expletive.

  Her anger was rising, but she did her best to hide any reaction. Brenda seemed to thrive on drama, so she wasn’t going to do anything to feed the beast. “You’re welcome to try.” If she had truly been engaged to Connor, she probably would have felt some real anxiety at the idea of Brenda trying to come between them, since she had seen for herself how close the two were. Connor regarded her with sisterly affection, but he clearly had no clue what kind of scheming hag lurked beneath the coldly angelic exterior.

  It wasn’t up to her to shatter his delusions, thankfully, and since she wasn’t actually marrying Connor, it shouldn’t matter to her anyway. She just had to get through the next eight days, and then she wouldn’t have to see Brenda ever again. She was thankful for that, because she could well imagine the other woman’s gloating when it sank in that Angelina wasn’t walking down the aisle, and had in fact jilted Connor Blackwell.

  Fortunately, Connor arrived then and saved her the energy of deflecting Brenda’s negativity. Angelina told herself she was simply amused, not at all jealous, when Brenda greeted Connor first by throwing herself against him in a tight hug and kissing his cheeks in a very European fashion. It would have been more European if her lips hadn’t accidentally grazed the corner of Connor’s mouth as she pulled away. The woman was blatantly throwing herself at Connor, and the man was too blind to see it.

  If she’d had a slightly larger capacity for compassion when it came to Brenda, she probably would’ve felt sorry for her. She almost snorted aloud at the thought.

  A second later, Connor pulled free from Brenda and walked over to Angelina, who stood up from the chair at the table where she had been waiting for him. He took her hand in his, and she denied the spark that shot up her arm from his gentle touch. She tried to rein in her reaction when he pressed his lips against hers in a tender gesture. She knew it was for appearance sake, and she also understood he kept it light to avoid the temptation of what had happened to them last time they had indulged in a real kiss.

  Still, it took everything she had not to grasp the lapels of his sport coat and press her body against his as she devoured his mouth with hers. They hadn’t seen each other for two days, and that occasion had been for wedding business, which meant they were surrounded by people—a relief, but also frustrating as hell.

  “Are you ready for Monaco?”

  She smiled, her stomach fizzing with excitement. “Yes I am.” It was another place she had never been, which was unsurprising. Her passport was about to acquire another stamp to join the ones from their trip to Barcelona, and another stamp from a trip to Mexico with a group of girlfriends a few years ago, before Granny had passed away.

  She clutched his hand and walked beside him, wishing Brenda would magically get lost in the crowd, or perhaps be detained by TSA as a suspicious person. Very briefly, she entertained the petty idea of tipping them off, but managed to take the mature route of reining in the impulse when she had the chance to speak to a TSA agent.

  She was proud of her restraint, especially since Brenda’s voice grated on her like nails on a chalkboard, and the woman never shut up. She seemed to be going out of her way to deliberately antagonize Angelina, and she wondered how Connor c
ould be so oblivious to the other woman’s annoying attitude.

  Once again, she reminded herself it wasn’t her problem once their engagement ended in eight days. She could deal with Brenda for eight days off and on, couldn’t she? Surely, it would be no more irritating than a blister in her shoe, or perhaps coming down with a case of Ebola Zaire. She barely bit back a giggle of the thought, forcing herself to appear serious as she went through the security checkpoint and joined Connor on the other side. She was surprised they weren’t taking a private jet this time, but he had shared in passing that his father was using the family plane, so they were taking first-class instead.

  It was a rough life the Blackwells lived, she thought with a small grin as she settled into her first-class seat almost an hour later. She had a feeling she could get used to all this, but she also knew she could walk away just as easily. If only it would be as easy to walk away from Connor as it was the trappings of his lifestyle, she wouldn’t have any doubts or concerns about the next eight days, culminating in the jilting at the wedding.

  ***

  Monaco was a sparkling jewel, as she had expected. Surrounded by brilliant blue water, it was a welcome sight raising from the sea. They had booked a suite in the casino, and fortunately, Brenda hadn’t managed to find a way to stay with them in their suite. Of course she had arranged to be at the same hotel, and even on the same floor, Angelina noted with a grimace as they all got off the elevator on the same floor.

  It had been a long flight, and her earlier amusement comparing Brenda to Ebola Zaire had faded to resentment as she’d dealt with the woman’s never-ending chatter. When Brenda suggested they all grab dinner, she shook her head, not having to feign a yawn. It was playing into Brenda’s scheme, but she just couldn’t endure another moment with the other woman. “Why don’t you two go ahead? I’m just worn out from the travel.”

  Brenda clicked her tongue, looking sympathetic. “Of course you are. I bet you’ve never flown so far before.”