Royal Fake Fiance (Dirty Royals #4) - Vivian Wood Page 0,20

Pippa? Do it for me?”

And just like that, all my defenses melt away. All the reasons that I can’t do it suddenly seem very far away.

Of course I will do it for him.

How can I not?

Lars sees the expression of my face change and knows my answer before I even say it.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I will do it. But not forever.”

He’s already folding his strong arms around me, pulling me into the shelter of his body. “Ahh, thanks, Pips. I knew you would come through.”

I sink into the bear hug, my eyes fluttering closed. He’s sinfully warm. His smell, pure and clean and masculine, is driving me wild right now.

I inhale a lungful of his scent, feeling like a fool. “That’s me. Reliable old Pippa saves the day again.”

Lars pulls back. “What do you think about six months?”

I crinkle my nose. “I was thinking a single month would be sufficient.”

He gives me a look. “Four months.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Two.”

His gaze turns speculative, watching my face intently. “Three months. Surely you can play my fake fiancée for three months.”

I look up at him, crinkling my entire face. “Okay. I think I can handle three months.”

He grins. “Thanks, Pips. Should we wake the jewelers at Tiffany’s up right now? Shit, I should’ve stopped on the way here and gotten you a ring—”

I push him away, eyeing him firmly. “There will have to be rules. No physical contact, for instance.”

He gives me a funny look. “It’s going to take a little hugging and kissing to convince my family, don’t you think?”

I squint at him. “I meant when we are alone.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ja, sure. I will behave like a proper gentleman, if that’s what you want.”

I shake my head, crossing my arms. “No one has ever thought to call you a proper gentleman, I’m fairly certain.”

Lars grins at me, his eyes glittering. “If that’s what it takes, I’m willing to try.”

I shoot him a look. “I’m regretting this already.”

He tilts his head, considering me. “Should we go for a drink to celebrate?”

Stepping closer to him, I turn him around and begin marching him toward the door. “We can figure it all out tomorrow. For now, I want to eat something before I pass out.”

He chuckles, opening the front door. He catches my hand and gives me a squeeze. “You really are the best, Pippa. You know that, right?”

The corners of my mouth tighten. “Do me a favor. Don’t…” I hesitate. “Don’t sleep with anyone while I pretend to be your fake fiancée, okay? If this little deception is going to work, you’ll have to play along and not be your usual man-whore self for a while.”

Lars smirks at me. “You got it, love of my life.”

For a second, I can’t even wrap my head around that. My heartbeat speeds up. If he had any idea of how long I’ve waited to hear those words…

But then he turns, showing me his black-clad back as he disappears down the hall. He didn’t mean it.

Not like I want him to, anyway.

“Goodnight, little witch…” he calls over his shoulder.

I watch him disappear, slumping against the doorframe when I hear the downstairs front door open and close.

I am in so much trouble.

I know that.

If anyone does the slightest bit of digging, I could be exposed.

My life would cease to be my own at that point.

But I can still feel my heart racing, feel the heat of his body pressed against mine. I can sense the excited energy that follows Lars in his wake, everywhere he goes.

Deep in my soul, I know that I shouldn’t have agreed to be his fake fiancée.

Oh god.

What have I gotten myself into?

Turning, I close my door and head back to my sad microwave dinner.

8

Pippa

I wake the next morning to the insistent buzzing of my phone. Squinting into the early morning light, I groggily reach out across my bed to snag my phone from the nightstand. It’s too early for me to really process anything.

I rub my eyes as I read the first text, which happens to be from Margot. Pippa! What the hell? When were you going to tell me about this?

For a solid seconds I can’t actually connect the dots. I narrow my eyes.

What is she talking about?

I sit up, scrolling through the numerous calls and texts. It’s only when I read the words you’re engaged? from Annika that I put it all together.

The story about my supposed relationship with Lars must be out, then. I assume that

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