moving forward with his life, as if I would hold him back. And I’d known that what he really meant was that he wanted to put the early part of his life behind him, wanted to become someone new and make a fresh start.
I’d understood, so I hadn’t vilified him for it. But I’d hated that he’d made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be part of the future he’d mapped out for himself, that I wouldn’t fit with whatever new image he meant to create. Yeah, my defenses had slammed up in an instant. And I was glad of that, because it had numbed the pain and allowed me to move on from Owen faster than I otherwise might have done.
If he truly believed I still cared for him, he was dead wrong. I didn’t wish him ill, but I wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.
Determined to shove him out of my mind, I made my way to the bathroom. It was time to get ready for my fake date with my fake secret boyfriend.
Later on, I strolled out of my apartment complex and over to the sleek, fancy, black car that was parked at the curb. I smiled at the broad figure who opened the rear door for me. “Hi, Sam, how are you?” Nothing in my voice or expression gave away that I was still feeling twitchy with nerves.
“I’m well, Miss Stratton,” replied Dane’s driver. “And you?”
“Fine, thanks.” I slid onto the warm, butter-soft leather seat and looked at the lethally sensual male beside me who was focused on his phone—no doubt responding to a business email.
My breath caught at the delicious sight of him in a perfectly fitted, charcoal shirt and black slacks that would no doubt hug his epic butt just right. I saw him in tailored suits every day, always looking effortlessly well-groomed, smelling amazing, and generally oozing raw sex appeal. But it never got old—he could still make my pulse spike.
“Dane,” I greeted simply, going for blasé.
His piercing gaze snapped to me. If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I might not have noticed how he imperceptibly stiffened. His eyes raked over me, taking in everything from my loose, flowing hair to my strappy high heels; lingering a little on the thigh slit—it was a slow, blatant, thorough perusal. His gaze briefly glittered with something hot that made my skin prickle.
He nodded, as one would when appraising an object and then turned back to his phone. I almost snorted.
“So, where are we going?” I asked when Sam pulled onto the road.
His thumbs deftly flying over the screen of his cell, Dane named a prestigious, well-known restaurant. “Many people who I know and do business with frequent there. It’s a place where we’ll be recognized.”
I didn’t try to keep the conversation going—it was clear he was busy. The guy was always on the clock. I honestly didn’t know how being in such high demand all the time didn’t drive him insane.
Realizing that I was twirling my ankle madly enough to sprain it, I forced my leg to stay still. It wasn’t just nerves that were pricking at me and making me restless. I still hadn’t quite shaken off the annoyance I felt at Owen. He had no freaking right to turn up at my home and … No, I wasn’t going to think about him. I wasn’t going to fume about the things he’d had the nerve to say.
Turning to the window, I rested my loosely clasped hands on my lap and did my best to let all my edginess slip away. Yeah, it didn’t work.
“What’s bothering you?”
The question almost made me jump. I looked at Dane and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“You’re annoyed about something. What?”
“It’s not important.”
“But it’s bugging you enough that you look ready to punch someone.” He pocketed his phone and pressed a button that raised the privacy screen between us and the driver. “Tonight, I need you to be all about us. Your head can’t be elsewhere. So, tell me what’s wrong.”
I sighed. “I had a brief visit from Owen earlier.”
A slight hardness slid into Dane’s expression. “What did he want?”
“To talk.” Not wanting to go into any detail, I added vaguely, “He might be a problem.”
“He wants you back,” Dane guessed, his tone clipped. “I thought he was married.”
“He and his wife have filed for a divorce, apparently. I told him that I’m involved with someone. I didn’t say who,” I hurried to add.
“Did it