My (Mostly) Fake Wedding: A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy (My (Mostly) Funny Romance Series Book 2)

by Penelope Bloom

  “Alright. But he needs to go. Now. Until I get my contract, you’re mine, Belle. I don’t care who he is or what there might be between you. You are my fiancée. My wife-to-be. Got it?”

  I thought she might slap me for a second, but she nodded, eyes glinting with anger. “Yeah. Got it. Now please go. I’ll see you at the airport, and I’ll ask my friend to leave.”

  “Should I bring a condom for the flight, or…”

  Belle stuck her arm out, pointing toward the door. “You should go before I decide to sabotage this entire thing just to spite you.”

  “Fair point. And if I don’t see him walking out of the building within a minute, I’m coming back up.”

  “Chris. Just go.”

  I tried to figure out how I’d become the bad guy as I headed down the stairs. Was it the jealous rage? Was it the part where I basically told her she was my property? Or maybe it was the question about the condom for our flight.

  By the time I got outside, I’d come to the conclusion that I had probably handled about every angle of the encounter wrong, starting with the decision to pick her lock and let myself in.

  I slid down against the wall outside her building, grunting as my leg reminded me it still wasn’t fully recovered. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. Fuck. At times, being an idiot was fun. This was not one of those times. I wasn’t even that kind of guy. Since when did I get jealous? When did I become that asshole who assumes the worst in people, screwing everything up in the process?

  I guessed it was one of the hazards of actually liking a woman—of feeling a sense of investment in things working out. Ironically, it was that exact investment that had pushed me over the edge so easily.

  Normally, a screw up of this proportion would be my signal to cut my losses and move on. A woman wasn’t worth the headache, I’d tell myself. There were literally millions more out there who I’d have a clean slate with.

  But this time I didn’t want to cut my losses. I wanted to find a way to make it up to her, even if it meant degrading myself or doing the unthinkable and apologizing.

  I got back to my feet with a sigh. I’d find a way to make it up to her. But since I was planning to atone for my sins, I figured I might as well do one last jealous, shitty act. I waited outside her building until Lance came out. He spotted me, so I flashed him the double birds and let him know I was going to enjoy taking Belle all over Europe, euphemism intended.

  My stunt earned me a satisfying grunt of disgust from him as he walked off.

  I wasn’t exactly proud of anything I’d done in the last few minutes. But there was one thing I wouldn’t have changed if I could. I wanted them to both know she was mine, even if I wasn’t sure how long that would last anymore.

  25

  Belle

  I sank into a comfortable first-class seat and let out a long breath. Somewhere in coach, a baby was crying, and the airplanes engines were whirring to life with a high-pitched whine.

  I heard a quick clamor of excited voices from the front of the plane. Instinctively, I’d learned the sound. It was the sound Chris brought with him everywhere he went, just like a shark at the beach might bring screams. Chris brought hushed whispers, gasps, and a never-ending rush of people seeking selfies and autographs.

  I’d never considered how exhausting it must be for him until I saw his face as he boarded. Chris looked uncharacteristically tired. A stewardess was thanking him for what appeared to be a napkin he’d signed for her. He spotted me, then his expression lifted slightly.

  He was wearing a black shirt and gray sweatpants with his usual “please don’t notice me” black baseball cap and sunglasses.

  Chris sat down, then looked my way. I swallowed but stared ahead. I’d blown him off this morning. After his crap at my apartment, I felt like he needed a figurative slap on the wrist. Damon had planned for us to show up together and put in an appearance on our way out of the country. Instead, I’d left him hanging and came on my own.

  “Am I fully punished?” Chris asked. “Or was ghosting me this morning just the beginning?”

  Chris had a unique ability to dissolve almost all of my frustration with him with a few words. I found myself already wanting to smile a little, but I resisted. “I’m still planning to punish you a little more.”

  “Fair enough. And by the way, I’m-” he looked like he was about to choke. “I’m sorry for this morning. I was probably a little out of line.”

  “Which part?” Now I couldn’t help grinning a little. “The part where you picked my lock and let yourself in, or the part where you made an ass of yourself?”

  “Either?”

  I folded my arms, waiting.

  “All of it,” Chris added quickly. “I get how it probably looks. I’m just some bastard who wants to fuck around with you and take advantage of this arrangement. And maybe even I thought that too before I saw the turtle necked dweeb on your couch.”

  “He’s not a dweeb. Lance is a successful lawyer and women practically line up to date him.”

  “Sorry. I’ve just never trusted people in turtlenecks. I mean, think about it. You ever looked at a turtle’s neck? Like really looked? They’re wrinkly, veined, and frankly phallic. Why would I trust someone who wants their neck to look like an ancient green cock?”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “Is this part of your apology?”

  “Sorry. No. I apologize for calling him a dweeb. All I was trying to say is that seeing him with you made me have to confront some uncomfortable realities, like the fact that I apparently don’t want you sleeping with anyone else.”

  “I’m aware. It could look bad for optics if anyone caught wind of it.”

  “No. I don’t give a shit about how it looks. Just the thought of Lance’s turtleneck anywhere near your pussy made me want to toss him out your window. As in, I’ve got feelings for you. Real ones.”

  My mouth felt dry. Chris’ words sank into me one by one, each feeling heavier than the last. Feelings. Real ones. Part of me itched to tell him the truth—that I did too. Except we’d made such a mess of things that I didn’t know where real feelings would fit in.

  It was like Val had said. There was no real danger in what Chris and I were doing because the expiration date was built in. It was like realizing you were in a dream and deciding to have a little fun before you woke up. Except what Chris was saying now felt more like he was saying he never wanted us to wake up from this. He wanted it all to be real. To last.

  The idea sent shockwaves of competing fear and exhilaration through me. All I could do was react by instinct, to step away from the big shiny thing that might be the best thing that would ever happen or the worst. Like I always did, I chose the safer option, the risk-free choice that would let me continue along in my safe but unsatisfying existence.

  “Maybe it’d be better if we stuck to pretending,” I said, because at the end of the day, I knew what it felt like when I handed my heart over to someone and they decided to break it. Except Chris would be like an excited puppy. He’d play with it, never intending to break or damage it, but one way or another, it’d be left in tatters by the time he was done.

  I waited for Chris to get pissed or look offended. I knew if the situation was reversed, I would’ve been mortified, and I felt shitty for it. But Chris only looked determined.

  “You know,” he said. “If they put a deer and a lion in the same enclosure, the lion won’t always try to eat the deer. Sometimes they’ll just relax. But the moment the deer even looks like it might be running, the lion will pounce every time, even if it’s not hungry.”

  I waited for more explanation, but Chris was just watching me with a strangely focused expression.

  “Okay. But your little analogy breaks down because you’re assuming I’m a deer. What if we’re both lions?”

  “Then we’ll make some beautiful cubs, once you decide to stop pretending.”

  And just like that, I was smiling again.

  Damn Chris Rose, becaus
e the longer I spent around him, the more sure I was that this would only end with me doing something I’d regret. Or several somethings.

  26

  Chris

  After a brief but fruitless struggle, I talked Belle out of booking her own hotel once we arrived in London.

  She was currently sitting on the couch in our room with a surly expression and crossed arms. “Just so you know, this isn’t going to evolve into a porno. I’m not going to forgetfully walk out of the shower naked and say, ‘oh, roommate, I totally forgot you were here.’”

  I’d been fishing through the mini fridge. I picked out a bottle of water and took a sip. I raised an eyebrow at Belle, then set the bottle down. “Is that how pornos usually go? I guess I’ll trust your expert opinion.”

  Belle got up and started rummaging through her suitcase for something. “I’m just trying to make sure we both know where we stand. This isn’t Chris and Belle have inadvisable sex, part three, okay?”

  “You’re an avid porn watcher, you’ve been fantasizing about how this trip will go between us, and you’re religiously keeping track of how many times we’ve fucked. Got it. Or did I miss something?”

  She stood up with a handful of wadded up clothes in her hand, which she jabbed in my direction, as if to make some kind of point. “I’m going to take a shower,” she declared somewhere between yelling and laughing.

  “What if there’s a tarantula in there and you need saving? Again.”

  Belle stomped toward the bathroom but paused at the door. “You know, you should stop raiding that mini fridge. That stuff isn’t free.”

  I popped a few candies in my mouth and unscrewed a soda, just to push her buttons. “Oh? I had no idea.”

  “I’m taking my shower now. Alone.”

  “Are you asking me to join you? Because if you want me to come in there, all you need to do is say so.”

  “Does it sound like I’m asking?” Belle’s voice was a little shrill, and her cheeks had started to go patchily red.

  I grinned. “Kind of?”

  “Then you need to get your ears checked.”

  I waited, snacking on more candies while she still stood at the door to the bathroom. “Are you worried I’m going to pick the lock and let myself in? Is that it?”

  With a grunt of annoyance, she finally tugged the door open and closed it. A few moments later, I heard the water start running.

  I hopped on the bed and threaded my hands behind my head. Don’t picture what she’s doing in there. Don’t imagine her so desperately horny that she’s about to start sliding her fingers in herself and pretending they’re you. Don’t…

  “Fuck it,” I said with a sigh. “Too late.” I unzipped my pants. There were moments in life where a man should be too proud to jerk himself off. Moments when the only satisfaction he should accept are direct from the source of desire. And then there are moments when practicality has to take over.

  Blue balls were a real danger, and I wasn’t even a full twenty-four hours into this trip with Belle, and I was about to self-diagnose myself with a terminal case if I didn’t act soon.

  So I fucked my hand right there on the bed while Belle showered, mind full of imaginary scenes where she had one hand on the shower wall and another pumping furiously between her legs. I saw the water running in rivulets between her breasts and dripping from her hardened nipples. I saw her knees tremble together as her thighs squeezed the hand between her legs, her mouth hanging open in lust as she came.

  For me.

  Because I’d decided the only thing Belle Waters was going to come for anymore was me. After all, she was going to be my wife soon. Right?

  27

  Belle

  I shut off the shower, feeling a wave of shame wash over me. I wasn’t proud of it, but I had barely been able to contain it. Every fiber of my being had fought not to invite Chris into the shower with me. I’d been feasting on the way his thin white shirt hugged every curve and bulge of his muscular torso. All I’d wanted was to tell him to join me, to lie one more time and say it didn’t have to mean anything.

  Except for once, I’d fought the urge. Instead, I wound up sitting on the shower floor with my hand between my legs and thoughts of Chris filling my head.

  But if that was what it took to keep myself from doing something stupid, then I’d masturbate my way across Europe, for all I cared.

  I toweled off, briefly—and stupidly—wondered what Chris would do if I really did walk out of the bathroom naked like I’d forgotten he was there. Then I slipped on a pair of white cotton panties. With another pulse of guilt, I reasoned that my outfit would be fine without a bra. I also quietly hoped my decision wasn’t a subconscious attempt to draw Chris’ attention, even though I had a pretty fair guess about that one.

  A large family of very Britishly accented folks were chattering away somewhere just out of sight. The day was creeping toward evening, which had brought a pleasant chill to the air and made me glad to have brought along a jacket. Chris and I had just finished touring the inside of an ancient estate that had once belonged to British royalty.

  We’d been led out to the gardens, which overlooked a pleasant stretch of rolling green fields as far as I could see.

  I shot a look at Chris, who was feeling up a chubby little cherub statue with a confused look on his face.

  I sighed at him. “I would’ve been happy to leave you at the hotel, you know. Acting like a bored child is just proving you were dumb to insist on tagging along.”

  One of Damon’s demands for our trip was that Chris and I make a few public appearances. Chris had been happy to “spearhead” the planning for our outings, which he had taken to calling dates. Correcting him only seemed to amuse him, so I’d started pretending I didn’t care what he called the outings.

  “I’m having a great time,” Chris said. “I just want to know why they had to make this statue so thick.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s a cherub. They are supposed to be like that.”

  He pursed his lips. We were passing beneath a tall wooden arch lined with roses. After an hour of having the grown, tattooed, ridiculously attractive child named Chris Rose at my side, I knew what was coming.

  Sure enough, Chris swung his arms back, ducked, and bounded upward to see if he could reach the arch with his fingertips. I wanted to be annoyed with him. I really did. Except there was something about his antics that I actually enjoyed. Being around him made me wonder if we could all use a little more Chris Rose in our approach.

  “You know, most guys stop trying to see if they can jump high enough to reach things around eighth grade.”

  “Yeah?” He surprised me by putting two fingers just below the center of my collar bone and pushing my back against a hedge. There was a wicked, mischievous flicker in his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been giving me bedroom eyes all evening? Because I’m not like most guys? Or is it because you’re just that into eighth graders?”

  With a grin, I ducked under his arm, backing away to give myself some space from the gravity of his presence. “Those aren’t bedroom eyes. That’s me wondering how you managed to make it through so much life without growing up.”

  Chris pursued me in a slow chase. I backpedaled, he stalked forward. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and I could already feel the warmth of arousal starting to spread from my lower belly to every inch of me.

  “Oh, I’ve grown plenty. Especially since I met you.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Chris’ mouth twitched, then I realized he was making a joke. Of course he was. But I couldn’t stop my eyes from tracking down to see that—yes. He really had grown.

  I made a sound of disgust. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Chris laughed. “Jokes aside, when are you going to give up pretending, anyway?”

  I ducked under a low hanging arch crafted completely out of hedges and found myself in an enclosure of flowers where a few butterflies flitted from brightly colored pet
al to petal.

  Chris came in behind me, swallowing up the spare bit of evening light that had been coming through the entryway.

  “I’m not pretending. I’m being smart, which you should try for once.” I ran out of space to back up as velvety flowers brushed the back of my neck and arms. The whole room smelled like an explosion of fragrances, and I already felt like my head had gone a little light.

  “You want me. I want you. Why does it need to be complicated?” Chris was just a hair’s width from me now. He was so close I could feel the heat of his body spilling out toward me. I could practically sense the thumps of his heart, which I imagined was beating steady and calm. Mine, on the other hand, was pattering away like an animal trying to break from a cage.

  “Because it is complicated. Maybe not for you, but it is for me.”

  “Is it turtleneck?”

  “Stop calling him that. And no. Yes. Not really.”

  Chris titled his head. There wasn’t much light in the room, but I could still make out the light brown pools of his eyes and the dark lashes framing them. He was enchanting, and in this room of flowers I couldn’t help feeling like he was some sort of deity—like a construct of nature sent to seduce me into a bed of thorns. “Maybe try telling me the truth for once.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Here, I’ll start.” Chris was still so close I could barely take a deep breath without pushing my breasts into him. He was locking me in place with his eyes, and I thought I couldn’t have moved if I tried.

  “I’ll give you one truth, then you give me one,” he said. “Mine is that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that flight to New York.”

  I swallowed. “I’ve wished I would never see you again more times than I can count.”