My (Mostly) Fake Wedding - Penelope Bloom Page 0,40

‘bust in, say something badass and intimidating, then leave’ speech.

Chris put a finger on his chin, smirking. “I can’t tell if you’re promising to ride me, reveal that you’ve been hiding a cock of your own somewhere, or threatening to cut off my cock with a literal sword.”

“I’m warning you,” I said quietly. “And I think if I had one of those, you would’ve found it by now.”

Damon put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. In fact, I thought he might actually be laughing, which was a rare sight from the man.

I thought about trying to explain away my embarrassment but realized everything that came out of my mouth was only making it worse. I made one last threatening finger-jab in Chris’ direction and stormed out of the conference room.

Damon contacted me later that night with a complete publicity plan for our trip. The short version was that Chris and I needed to make sure we were seen together and “disgustingly in love” at various points during the trip.

Spectacular.

The morning of our flight, I was woken by frantic knocking on my door. I rolled out of bed with last-night’s makeup still half-applied and my hair a mess. Something told me I’d find Chris looking pristine on the other side of the door. It made me want to run to the mirror and fix myself up, but I knew if he kept knocking like that, he’d wake up half the building.

“I’m coming!” I shouted as I skidded and slipped my way through the messy apartment.

When I opened the door, it was Lance waiting, not Chris. He had flowers in his hand. “I came to apologize.”

“At five in the morning?”

“Can I just come in so we can talk?”

I hesitated. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve said no. I probably would’ve slammed the door. But there was something about still being able to remember him laughing so hard apple juice shot out of his nose at the elementary school lunch table. Or remembering all the times he’d come to my rescue when I had my heart broken by boys or my feelings hurt by the mean girls at school.

There was just too much history to pretend I could make a clean cut and throw him out of my life. Did it mean I was going to sleep with him? Absolutely not. But I at least owed him as much as letting him try to patch things up.

With a defeated sigh, I stepped aside and gestured for him to come inside.

24

Chris

I headed up to Belle’s apartment around six. Our flight wasn’t for a few hours, but for strictly business reasons, it would be good to show up early so she and I could plan how to sell that we were madly in love to the cameras. Of course, there was also part of me that hoped I’d find her skidding around in socks, a t-shirt, and little cotton panties again. Okay, that was pretty much the only reason I was showing up unannounced.

I knocked on her door. I lightly tapped a few times, waited, then whispered—because I didn’t want to scare her by shouting. “Belle? You in there? If you don’t want me to let myself in, just say something.” I paused. “Okay, I’ll just get the lock.”

I unfolded a paperclip and shoved it in the lock of her door. With a few twists and a pull on the handle, it came free.

I’d prepared myself to see a lot of things when I came into her apartment, but I didn’t expect to see an asshole in a turtleneck on her couch.

Belle was sitting beside him with her hands folded while the guy looked like he was in the middle of saying something. They both jumped up from the couch when they heard the door open. Belle quickly stepped several feet away from the guy.

I squinted, pointing between the two of them. “Turtleneck guy? I knew it!”

“Chris,” Belle was speaking slowly like you might to a person with a knife. “This is Lance. Remember? My friend since Kindergarten? He just wanted to clear things up after the fiasco in Texas.”

“With flowers?” I asked. I picked them up, noticing how Lance was completely stiff, following me with his eyes while barely any other part of him moved. He was ready to fight me, I figured.

As much as I would’ve liked to pop his pencil head out of that turtleneck and toss him around a little, I’d let it be his call.