by Kimberly Fox
Prince Kalib turns his attention to us once the wine is served. “Do you two plan on having children?” he asks.
“Definitely,” Dex answers without hesitation. “Lots of them.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I turn to him.
“Of course,” he answers, looking at me with a straight face. “I can’t wait to put a baby in her.”
My back straightens, and I hold my breath as he slides his hand over my stomach, smiling at me.
“Dex, honey,” I say, feeling my face get hot. “Let’s not have any inappropriate touching at the dinner table,” I say in a low voice.
“There’s nothing inappropriate about a husband touching his beautiful wife,” Prince Kalib says, smiling as he watches Dex’s hand on my stomach. Dex takes back his hand and a cold shiver shakes through me as a sense of loss settles in my belly.
I’ve never met a guy that I liked enough to even consider having kids with, but I decide to indulge in the fantasy a bit. It is all pretend after all.
“Would you like to start with a boy or girl?” I ask, trying to hide my smile as I look up at my pretend husband.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he says, taking his napkin and placing it on his lap. “I would love to have a little boy to roughhouse with and toss around on the couch, and I would love to have a little girl to put on my shoulders and treat like a princess.”
I lean toward him, trying to erase some of the vast distance between us as I picture him having a tea party with his little daughter. In my fantasy, her hair is the same color as mine.
Marv interrupts, trying to steer the conversation back to yachts, which I don’t mind at all. It gives me a few minutes to envision the scenario a little more. I imagine what it would be like to be Dex’s wife and have his children. He’d be frustrating as hell with his cocky attitude, but something tells me that I’d be laughing a lot in between the bouts of frustration. He’s a clever guy, a talented pilot, and it’s getting harder and harder to deny the physical attraction between us. Especially now that I have to look at him shirtless for most of the day.
He’s not real husband material. I have to remind myself of that. I want to end up with a guy who will not only be good to me but who won’t run out on our future kids like my dad ran out on me.
I refuse to fall for a man like that-a man who doesn’t see the worth of children.
Dex seems to want kids, but I can’t tell if that’s part of the act or if it’s for real.
“If you buy fifty-nine yachts,” Marv says, speaking to the prince, “I’ll throw in the sixtieth yacht for free.”
“Are you okay?” Dex whispers, looking down at me.
I nod, smiling despite myself.
He takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. It’s all part of the show, I tell myself, even though our hands are below the table where Prince Kalib can’t see them.
We keep our hands like this until the dinner arrives and we’re forced to break apart so we can eat.
The staff serves fresh sushi, and for once I wish Kara was here. I would love to see how she handles raw fish in her condition. Actually, I just want to see her puke all over her perfect body.
“What can I do to make you close the deal?” Marv asks the prince. Our boss is looking pretty desperate now. He was hoping to be off this island after a quick lunch and thirty something hours later, and he hasn’t made any progress.
“In my country,” Prince Kalib says, lifting up his wine glass. “We don’t talk business at the dinner table.”
“You don’t talk business anywhere,” Marv mutters as his angry eyes drop to his lap.
After dinner, Prince Kalib orders us some snifters of Brandy and brings us to a large empty room with a high ceiling. It looks like a banquet hall but without any tables-just the gorgeous marble floors and the large open windows that look out onto the dark ocean.
Prince Kalib sits down at a Grand Piano in the corner and smiles as his fingers tap on the keys playfully.
“Oh, great,” Marv moans behind us. “This should be horrible.”
I’ve had one too many glasses of wine at dinner and I’m having a good time. “You should probably go check on Kara,” I say, giving Marv an out.
His face lights up as he looks at me. “I should,” he says, placing his drink down on the piano and straightening his sports jacket. “Excuse me, Prince Kalib. I must go attend to my sick wife.”
“Of course,” Prince Kalib says with a nod.
Marv shoots me a look of gratitude as he hurries out of the large room.
I’m on a private island, in one of the most gorgeous villas on the planet, with a sweet drink in my hand, the warm Caribbean breeze floating in through the open windows, about to listen to a private show beside a smoking hot pilot. I’m not about to let a cranky billionaire like Marv ruin my vibe.
“What would you like to hear?” Prince Kalib asks as he fiddles with the keys, the random tones echoing throughout the vast room.
Dex walks around the piano and whispers something in the prince’s ear.
What is he doing?
I can’t take my eyes off of him as they exchange a few hushed words. The prince nods, and Dex comes strutting over with one hand tucked behind his back and the other hand in front of him like he’s offering it to me.
“Is this some kind of trap?” I ask, leaning back as I watch him with narrowed eyes.
“Can I have this dance?” he asks softly. There’s no hint of sarcasm or ridicule on his face. He looks genuine as he waits for my answer with his bright blue eyes making my knees weak.
I get lost in his eyes for a moment as warm desire flutters through me. I take a deep breath, getting ready to tell him where he can shove his dance. I don’t dance with my enemies; I crush them. The only time I’ll dance with him is when I’m dancing on his grave.
My mind is ready to tell him that, but my hand doesn’t seem to get the memo, and before I know it, I’m sliding my palm against his and stepping toward him.
One dance won’t hurt. It won’t change things.
Every nerve ending in my body is tingling like fine champagne as Dex guides me to the dance floor. He moves with the grace of a panther, and I’m worried my clumsiness is going to cramp his style.
Prince Kalib begins playing the piano softly, and I immediately recognize one of my favorite love songs: Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love.
“I told him this was our wedding song,” he whispers as his hand slides down to my lower back. He pulls me in close with his eyes fixated on mine. My body trembles under his firm eye contact, and before I know it, we’re moving around the dance floor as he takes the lead.
“I love this song,” I say, looking up at his handsome face. His skin is bronzed from the sun, lighting up his gorgeous eyes in a blue fire. My eyes slowly travel down along his sharp jawline to his lips. I wonder what his lips feel like. They look so soft.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dex says as Prince Kalib starts singing softly. He’s no Elvis, but he’s still pretty good. “When you marry me for real, we can dance to this song.”
“Marry you for real?” I say, laughing despite my face getting hot. “It’s going to cost you more than a few hundred thousand dollars for me to agree to that.”
“I can give you my heart,” he says, holding me close. “It’s all I got.”
I tuck my head on his chest as we dance softly. I’m listening to the music as I contemplate his words.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, smiling at him. “I’m impressed. You haven’t stepped on my toes once.”
He smiles. “I learned from the best.”
“Ex-girlfriend?”
“My mother.”
“Oh,” I say, smiling as I picture a little Dex dancing around the living room with his mother, bumping into the coffee table as an old radio crackles out a song from the kitchen.
“She was under the belief that a real man should know how to dance with a la
dy.”
“Your mother was right,” I say, letting him spin me around. I wonder if I’ll ever meet her.
“She loves to dance,” he says, his eyes softening as he looks to the side. “My father and she were always dancing around the house every night. I used to love watching him swing her around. She would always fall into his arms, giggling at that part. When he died, my mother was so lost. She would just sit at the table and stare at the wall for hours with a blank look on her face. I tried everything to make her feel better but nothing worked. Then one day, I turned the radio on and asked her to dance. It was the first time I saw her smile, really smile, since my father passed. We danced almost every night afterward.”
I let him hold me a little closer, breathing in his musky cologne as the song plays. Maybe I was wrong about him. He’s actually kind of sweet.
The song ends much too early and I’m forced to let go of him.
“Thank you for the dance,” I whisper, feeling empty without him in my arms.
“Anytime, Riley Coyote. Anytime.”
I walk back to the piano and turn around in surprise when Dex walks in the opposite direction.
“Wonderful song,” I say to the prince who is grinning proudly. “Beautiful piano playing.”
“Thank you,” he says, clearly touched by my words. He starts to explain how he took lessons during his time at Harvard University. I have one eye on him and one eye on Dex who’s talking to one of the waiters.
Dex slips him a tip and the waiter nods, hurrying away. He snaps his fingers at two other waiters and the three of them rush out onto the beach as Dex strolls back toward us.
He slides his hand around my waist and it feels so natural that I forget to dig my nails into his forearm.
“What was that about?” I whisper to him.
“Prince Kalib,” he says, ignoring my question. “Your company has been delightful tonight, but I would love to have some alone time with my wife. Would you mind?”
He shakes his head as his fingers dance along the piano keys, playing a soft song that I don’t recognize. “If I had a wife as beautiful as her, I would want to be alone with her at all times.”
The sultry look he gives me makes me uncomfortable, so I step a little closer to Dex. Dex may be a creep as well, but I feel safe around him, and as much as we’re at each other’s throats, I know he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.
“What are you up to?” I ask, eying him suspiciously.
“What?” he says with a shrug. “Can’t a husband surprise his wife?”
“Of course,” I whisper low enough that Prince Kalib can’t hear. “But I’m only your pretend wife. Does that mean this is a pretend surprise and you’re going to push me in the pool or something?”
He shrugs as he flashes me a sexy grin. “Meet me on the beach in ten minutes and you’ll find out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Riley
I sink my bare toes into the cool sand as the fire warms my face. It’s beautiful. My pretend husband really outdid himself. Wherever he is.
Dex ran back inside, leaving me alone on the beach at night in front of the crackling fire. I’ve always wanted to have a campfire on the beach, so when Dex surprised me with one, I was really excited.
I lean back, letting my fingers slide into the powdery sand as I take turns looking from the raging fire to the diamond stars shining overhead, to the gentle waves of the dark ocean, slowly lapping up against the shore. The palms trees are keeping me company as they sway in the warm breeze, waving their palms at me like we’re old friends.
I close my eyes and smile, focusing on the nice smells wafting around the beach. It smells like smoky campfire mixed with salt-water. I love it.
A delicious whiff of Dex’s cologne hits my nose, and suddenly I’m back on the dance floor, gliding around effortlessly with his strong arms wrapped around me. A dab of his cologne must have rubbed onto my skin as we played husband and wife, and now I can’t stop smelling it.
It might be the fourth glass of wine I had or the heavenly scenery, but I’m beginning to enjoy my fake marital status, although it is bittersweet.
I want a husband for real, and it feels like I’ll never get there. I sigh softly as I look down at the diamond ring on my finger, which is casting an orange glow from the warm fire. It’s fake. It’s all fake.
A thickness settles in my throat as I look up at the lonely moon in the night sky. She’s been alone for ages, destined to be at the singles table forever as the stars frolic all around her. Will she ever find the love she craves so much?
I sigh as the nice mood I was in takes a sudden nosedive toward Self-Pity City. I just want a man who gets me. All of my previous boyfriends, and there haven’t been many, we’re all turned off by my personality. Strong, they called it as they broke up with me one by one. Exhausting. Aggressive. Bossy. Inflexible. Controlling. Too much. I’ve heard it all.
“You’re a lot,” Andy had said, looking exhausted as I sat him in the corner and made him tell me the truth. “We’re supposed to be on the same side, but it feels like you’re constantly against me.”
I twirl the ring on my finger as I wonder if there’ll ever be a wedding ring there for real. I want to get married and have a chance at the family I missed out on growing up. And I want a real man who loves me for myself, not the fake version of me that I can never keep up with.
My mind drifts back to Dex as a log shifts in the fire, sending sparks dancing up into the sky. Of all the guys I’ve met, Dex seems to enjoy my aggressiveness. I keep waiting for him to discover the real me and move on like all of the other guys, but the more I let him in on my destructive secret, the closer he tries to get to me. He matches me punch for punch in our sparring of words, and he seems to thrive on getting me all riled up.
My breath quickens as I picture him on the boat earlier this afternoon, refusing my demands to put on a life vest.
“If you fall overboard,” I said, strapping mine on extra tight, “I’m not jumping over to save you.”
“You’re going to let me drown?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at me. I can still remember how his brown hair was moving in the wind, begging me to sink my fingers into it.
“I’m warning you now,” I said, crossing my arms over the thick life vest and probably looking ridiculous in the process. “I’m not drowning because of your refusal to follow basic aquatic safety rules.”
“What about basic fashion rules?” he said, glancing down at the huge red vest covering half of my body. It was much too big, and my head probably looked like the tip of a hot dog wiener popping out of the bun as I stood there. “You’re hiding a killer bikini behind that thing. That’s just fucking cruel.”
Seven minutes later, my life vest was off. He chuckled when he saw me walk by in my bikini, but he didn’t say anything. Luckily for him, he didn’t, or I would have shoved him over the edge of the boat.
I like to do things by the book and he doesn’t. I’m not even sure if he can read.
I hold my rulebook tight. It’s a comfort thing for me. He doesn’t play by the rules, and he’s slowly making me loosen my grip on my rulebook, which is both terribly frightening and extremely exhilarating at the same time.
Will you stop? It’s all fake.
This is not reality. This is a business arrangement. This is about money, not feelings. I have to remember that before I get hurt.
But when Dex comes strolling over holding a champagne bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other, the line between reality and business gets blurred a little more.
His sports jacket is off, and he’s looking so tempting with his button-up light blue shirt rolled up his thick tattooed arms. The top few buttons are open, and the wind is giving me a nice view of his hard chest.
He smiles as he plops into the white sand beside me and offers me a glass.
“You’re full of surprises tonight,” I say taking the champagne flute. Our fingers touch, and the tingling in my fingerti
ps just grows with need as I pull away.
“I didn’t like Prince Creep’s eyes on you,” he says as he pulls off the foil wrapped around the champagne bottle, exposing the cork. “I wanted you all to myself.”
“Are you kidding?” I say, laughing as my gaze falls back to the fire. “He’s not interested in me. He can have any girl on the planet.”
“Probably,” he says as he grips the cork. “But he only wants one, and he’s not getting close to my wife.”
“Fake wife,” I correct.
He doesn’t say anything.
I take a deep breath, enjoying his scent as he smoothly pops the cork out and holds up the smoking bottle. “Thirsty?”
“Definitely,” I say, holding up my glass. He fills it with champagne and bubbles, and I can’t help but smile as I look at the engagement and wedding rings on my hand next to the bubbling champagne. It looks like a wedding card.
“Was that true what you said about wanting kids in there?” I ask, taking a sip. The bubbles tickle the inside of my nose, making me smile.
“Of course,” he says, looking at me with his piercing blue eyes. They have an orange glow with the fire close by, and they look even sexier than normal.
“I can’t tell what’s real or fake anymore,” I say, looking away.
“Let me explain the difference,” he says, smiling as he pours himself a glass. “When I’m talking to you, it’s real. When I’m talking to the prince, it’s fake.”
“What about when you dance with me?” I ask. My ears heat up as I close my eyes, wishing that the wine swirling in my head hadn’t let the words slip by my lips.
“That’s real,” he says, clinking his glass with mine. “And so is all of this.”
He takes a sip of his champagne, and I watch with my heart fluttering as his sexy lips curl around the glass. My right hand slides over to my left, and I slip the wedding and engagement rings off, leaving my finger bare. I want this night to be real. No fake engagement. No fake feelings. I want to see if there’s anything here for realsies.
