Believing Her: An Enemies to Lovers Fake Fiancé Romance

by Annabelle Love

  He hushed her, gently shushing her as he murmured, “Stop it, Samantha. Stop it. You’d be strange if you weren’t glad—you’re not celebrating the fact he’s dead, you’re celebrating the fact you’re no longer under his thumb. That you’re free from his clutches.” Josh stroked her cheek again. “That’s perfectly natural.”

  She clenched her eyes shut. “It is?”

  He sighed. “Yes. It is.” When her lashes opened and he saw the crystalline gleam of her eyes, he murmured, “Maybe you should talk to a therapist. Someone who can help you get through what happened. God knows, I’m not trained. I’ve already put my foot in it.”

  She shook her head, then shoved the cart out the way and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  It was a damn odd place to hug him, but he found he didn’t care. He didn’t even care if someone snapped a picture of him and it ended up on social media.

  Fuck them all.

  Because at that moment, there was nowhere else he wanted to be but in this woman’s arms.

  Slowly, he reached around and settled his hands on her lower back. He moved carefully, not wanting to jolt her. She was still jerky sometimes, and he knew that was because of how Jamie had behaved around her.

  A part of him vowed to himself, and to her, that he’d do whatever he could to undo Jamie’s conditioning. And some days, it was easy to forget his best friend had been a wifebeater, an abusive asshole, because Samantha could be so bright and sunny, so happy and light…

  “What did Erin do that reminded you of Jamie?” he asked quietly, trying to help and hoping he wasn’t making more of a mess of it.

  She immediately stiffened though, which didn’t give him much hope. “It’s just this little smile he has.”

  “When?”

  “When he’s pleased with himself.” Her words grew thick. “Jamie used to smile like that when I was on the floor and he’d thrown me there. Or if…” Her words cut off, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “But that’s the past. I shouldn’t be thinking about this stuff.”

  “Why? Why shouldn’t you?” he asked her quietly.

  “What do you mean?” she questioned, pulling back to frown up at him.

  “I mean, it happened to you, didn’t it? Why shouldn’t you hash over it? I know I do. When I have a meeting, I can be hashing over it for days. And then, next year, if I deal with the same people, I think back to that other meeting… Why shouldn’t you? Those events happened, they’re memories. You can’t just erase them because they’re horrible.”

  She blinked at him. “You don’t think I should just pretend…”

  “What? Pretend it didn’t happen?” He shook his head, and as he sighed, he tucked another stray lock behind her ear. “No. I don’t. It happened, accept it, accept that you can’t change what happened, but you very much have a say in the future.”

  Her eyes were glassy as she stared up at him. “Thank you, Josh.”

  He grimaced. “For what? I’m the Ice King, Samantha. I’m not the best person to be talking about these things to.”

  She scowled at that. “No. I won’t have that. You’re exactly who I need to be talking to about these things.” Then, sucking in a sharp breath, she squeezed him harder, then released him. “Thank you.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no need to thank me.”

  She turned to face him, a smile, though sad, curving her lips.

  “What?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, but that smile was still there when she returned to the fresh produce.

  “Sam,” he said with a growl.

  Her smile widened. “Do you know that’s the first time you’ve called me Sam?”

  He sighed. “You’re being difficult on purpose.”

  “You love me for it,” she teased, tapping a coconut this time, and though he knew she was only joking, he feared she was right.

  He did love her for it.

  It being the myriad ways in which she’d grabbed a hold of his heart and his head and made them both hers.

  Wincing at the sappy thought, he decided a change of subject was imperative. “You really love all this, don’t you?”

  She cocked a brow at him. “All this? Being, what? Eating?” She let out a little laugh, and it was in such contrast to her sadness of mere moments before that relief swilled through him. “Yeah, I’m rather fond of not starving.”

  He smirked at her. “You know exactly what I mean. Cooking. You don’t have to cook and yet you do. A lot.” He was astonished by how much she cooked if he was being honest. He paid people to cook for him and they made less food than she did.

  “It relaxes me,” she said with a shrug. “Plus, I get a kick out of knowing where everything comes from.”

  “Hence the organic store?”

  A militant gleam appeared in her eye. “Do you know the carbon footprint of food from the big chains?”

  His lips twitched. “No, I don’t, but feel free to tell me. Or I’ll get my PA to clue me in.”

  She squinted at him. “You’re mocking me.”

  “Maybe. Just a tad.” He laughed when she stuck out her tongue.

  “It’s important, and I enjoy it.”

  “Have you ever thought about opening a café or something like that? I’ve tasted your cookies. They deserve more attention than I or Erin can give them.”

  Her cheeks burned hotly. “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m not being silly,” he told her easily. “You should consider it. I can tell…” He broke off, unsure if now was the time to mention something like this when they’d just been discussing Jamie. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was judging her way of life or her choices.

  “What?” Samantha tilted her head as she stared up at him. “What can you tell?”

  He shrugged. “That you’re bored. Especially when Erin’s at pre-school.”

  She winced, and just when he’d thought he’d hurt her, she grimaced. “I know. When he’s at school, who knows what I’ll do with my days.”

  “Well, why not do something you love?”

  “I don’t know. My friend, Jessica, has a café. Well, she owns a part of it. It’s hard work.”

  “You can afford to hire staff to help out.”

  “It’s Erin’s money,” she countered.

  “Then I’ll help out.”

  “Josh!” she declared, astonished. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  At that moment, the feelings he felt for her almost overwhelmed him. Not by one ounce had she expected his offer. She didn’t want his money, and though he’d known that, having it confirmed and so obviously settled something in his soul.

  He shrugged. “The offer’s there.”

  “No. I don’t want money from you.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think about doing something different. Something that you love.” He peered at the passion fruits she was studying. “And let’s face it, you love all this.”

  “All this,” she repeated with a laugh, then she peered up at him, rocked onto tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  He just laughed, because she was the only person in the world who’d ever dare to say that.

  And she was the only one who’d get away with it too.

  Chapter 18

  Josh

  Six months later.

  When she tumbled into his arms with a laugh, Josh had to chuckle. They were getting better at this dancing shit, and Samantha was molding even more into his arms.

  He loved it.

  He’d never appreciated clingy women, but Samantha wasn’t like that. She was strong and fierce, and strangely independent. Not that he wasn’t used to the latter, but she made odd strident claims at the most bizarre of moments—like she was trying to make sure he knew she had the right to make her own decisions.

  At the time, he’d think it was weird, but later on, as he had a shower or processed the day, he just realize
d that was the after-effect of Jamie’s chokehold on her.

  In many ways, she was still finding herself, and the truth was, he was proud that she’d picked him to be with as she did so.

  When those moments occurred, he knew how thin the ground he was walking on was.

  Knew how shaky it was.

  Like, each time, she was questioning her sanity in doing any of this. But she seemed to come around, and those moments were growing fewer and fewer because, God help him, they were merging well together. In fact, well was an understatement.

  “Why do you insist on coming to these galas when you don’t like the politician the fundraising is for?” she asked quietly as they danced around a glittering ballroom.

  Overhead, a glitter ball twinkled merrily, making her hair dance in its sexy high bun. Tendrils of hair curled about her throat, clinging here and there where the exertion and the heat of the night had it sticking to her skin.

  Damn, he wanted to taste her there. Taste her where her scent was strongest, and she was sweetest.

  Josh licked his lips at the thought, then realizing she’d asked him a question, murmured, “Just because I don’t like them, doesn’t mean I don’t like their politics.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Senator Beauregard is anti-abortion and anti-Planned Parenthood.”

  “So are a lot of people.”

  “Don’t you think women should have the right to choose? You don’t have to agree with either to think they deserve the right to do what they want with their own bodies.”

  “I actually do agree with you, but Beauregard also has friends in high places in Sweden.”

  “Sweden?” She gaped at him. “What does that have to do with Planned Parenthood?”

  He laughed. “Nothing.” He tapped her on the nose. “Fear not, I paid for our seats but that’s it. He won’t receive any other donations from me.”

  She scowled at him. “But what’s in Sweden?”

  “A nice little company I’m interested in buying.”

  “And he knows the owners?”

  “Yep. He’s a widow. His wife was Swedish, and their son’s godfather is the owner.”

  “What? He doesn’t want to sell to you?”

  “He’s deciding.”

  “And he’s taking too long about it?” she guessed, her tone wry. Then, she snuggled into his arms and grumbled, “You’re such a tyrant.”

  He laughed. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not the best thing,” she retorted. “You should be nice and cuddly. Although, I do like your abs.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m glad they please someone.”

  “Oh, they certainly do. It’s a shame you’re not a cover model. If you were, the whole world could gaze in astonishment at the glory of your stomach.”

  “Glory? Now you’re just making me bigheaded.”

  “I think you’re entitled to be. About your abs. Not about schmoozing with the jerk who this gala is for.”

  “You’re going to be my conscience, aren’t you?”

  She batted her lashes up at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You’re not a Southern Belle,” he argued. “You can’t pull the mint julep act on me!”

  Samantha chuckled. “For shame, you’re no gent at all, are you?”

  “No, not even when the lights turn out at night,” he said on a growl as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to her throat. Tasting her there, he growled again as she flooded his senses with all of her.

  “Oh-h,” she said, her voice choked. “that feels so good, Josh.”

  “I’m glad, baby. You ready to get out of here?”

  “We haven’t had dessert yet!” she countered, but her voice was breathy.

  “For six thousand dollars a plate, do you really expect dessert to be better than this?” He rocked his hips against her belly.

  “Six thousand dollars?” she squeaked. “We’re staying for dessert. I want your money’s worth.”

  He groaned. “But I’m really okay with being screwed if it means you’ll screw me later.”

  She laughed, but the mulish twist to her lips said it all. “Nope. No way, no how. My mother didn’t raise someone who wasted money or food. There’s a crappy piece of chocolate cake out there with our names on it and we’re going to eat it. Even if it chokes us.”

  He had to laugh. “You’re crazy.”

  “No. I’m astute.” She tapped her nose, winking at him as she did.

  “Crazy,” he countered, loving how she slipped her arm around his waist as they started to walk back to their seats.

  The tables had been cleared of dinner plates—a rather distasteful roast chicken with a bizarre kind of cheese sauce—and in their stead, were what looked like chocolate lava cake.

  She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the limp things. “Okay, I understand why you might think I’d prefer your cock to this, but we have to at least try it.”

  Chuckling, he helped seat her, and as he did, the Senator clapped him on the back. Josh jerked a little in surprise, not having realized the reason for their being here tonight was close—Josh was slowly growing accustomed to how limited his reactions were in Samantha’s presence.

  It was bizarre, but he’d come to realize that when she was about, she took up all his focus.

  Every ounce of it.

  Unless Erin was there too, and he could split it between them. But otherwise, he rarely noticed the rest of the world buzzing on around him and though it was damn inconvenient, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

  His business was founded on him. His verve and his drive, but he’d done a poor job of protecting it if it meant there weren’t other people who could lighten his load some.

  “Senator,” he said cheerfully, shaking the man’s hand.

  “It’s great to see you here, Josh. I was hoping to catch you.”

  “You were?” He cocked a brow. “Does that mean you have news for me from Stockholm?”

  Beauregard winked at him. “Maybe. Can I rely on you for a donation tonight? You know what good I’ll do if I can keep my seat for another term.”

  Beside him, Samantha tensed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Beauregard laughed, hearing that for the mockery it was. “I appreciate it, sir. I appreciate it.”

  Josh cocked his brow again. “Well?” he asked. “Stockholm?”

  “I’ve a yes. It’s tentative. Christen wants to make sure that you’ll look after the staff. It’s still a family company even if it has hit the international press of late.”

  “That’s fine with me. I have no desire to break it up. I actually want to expand it.”

  “I know. I saw your outline. I think that’s why Christen is interested. But, I also think if you truly want to seal the deal, you should offer him a seat on the board. It’s his baby,” Beauregard said, wrinkling his nose as though he couldn’t understand it. “What can I say? The man’s attached to it.”

  “Quite understandable,” Samantha inserted. “Family businesses mean a lot to all involved.”

  At her interruption, Josh winced. “Senator, I must apologize for my rudeness. This is Samantha Garrett, my fiancée.”

  Beauregard blinked at that. “Engaged? You’ve finally found someone to clip your wings, eh, Josh?” The Senator bowed low in a strangely old-fashioned gesture that flustered Samantha who shot him a tight smile.

  “I think he’s clipped mine actually, Senator.”

  The older man boomed out a laugh. “Exactly what you need, Josh. Exactly what you need.” He winked. “Anyway, Christen will be in touch after tonight. I’ll make sure of it. Now, I’d best be moving on. Great to see you, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.”

  He went on his way, not really expecting them to reply which was good considering Josh had no interest in replying. Taking a seat beside Samantha, he murmured, “Sorry, I didn’t introduce you.”

  Her lips twitched. “It’s a habit of yours.”


  “I know,” he admitted on a sigh. “I never bothered to introduce people before.”

  “I’m sure your mother would slap you silly for your manners.”

  “Very likely. But, equally, I doubt she’d have wanted me to broadcast to all and sundry who I was dating. Things have changed now, I need to start remembering.” He reached for her hand and kissed her ring. “You’re not nobody to me.”

  “My goodness, I feel for those other women you’ve discarded along the way.” He winced. “You were a real jerk to them, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  She prodded him in the shoulder with a gloved finger. “How much are you going to donate tonight?”

  “I wasn’t sure how he’d play it, but he’s being canny. Christen will get in touch when my donation goes through.” He rubbed his chin, relieved to be off the topic of his ex-lovers. Yes, he’d been a shit, but he was trying, slowly and surely, to be better. Because that was exactly what she deserved.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Probably donate fifty grand. It won’t be as much as he’d like, but he can’t turn his nose up at it.”

  She pursed her lips. “How much do you think he wants?”

  “A million,” he said wryly. “The deal is worth it, but I don’t like the man and you’re right, I don’t like his politics. I’m not willing to help him out too much.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she grumbled.

  He dipped his head, and in her ear, whispered, “You know who’s running for the same seat, right?”

  “Angie Dawson. I like her.”

  “I donated four hundred thousand to her yesterday.” He pulled back to wink at her.

  “Sneaky! I like it.” She clapped her hands, then leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I think you deserve a reward for being so clever.”

  “I do?” He cocked a brow at her. “I shall have to be devious more often.”

  She grinned. “I’m game for that. Now, first things first. Try your cake.”

  He immediately grimaced. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. You have to.”

  Grabbing his spoon, he dipped into the lousy attempt at chocolate lava cake, took a spoonful, grimaced again, then said, “There. Happy?”