The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée Page 5

  "What the hell are you wearing?" His voice is low, but firmer than a second ago.

  He's angry. And that confuses me. The look in his eyes is so predatory, I shiver at the intent I read in them. When his palm squeezes mine, in a possessive gesture, pain shoots up my arm. I wince.

  He still doesn't let go. Just stares at my lips.

  He wants to kiss me.

  Kiss me.

  A strong curl of desire wells up inside. Rising, filling me. Overflowing till I'm sure it's bleeding from my fingertips into him.

  Then, in a move that takes me by surprise, he raises his glass and touches the ice-cold surface to my neck.

  I shiver.

  His eyes are half closed. He knows that the contrast between the cold of the glass and the heat inside me is erotic.

  And when a wave of heat washes over me, trickling down between my thighs, I'm sure he can feel that too.

  His nostrils flare. Can he smell my arousal?

  It's a rude reminder that I'm attracted to a man who'd been hugged by another guy as if his very life depended on it. Jace doesn't reciprocate the other man's attentions. And yet, I'm jealous.

  "Why did you really want me to come here with you?" I blurt out.

  Jace doesn't reply, merely stares into his drink. He's still gripping my hand.

  I know then the reason I'm here, next to Jace, offering comfort, is to do with the man outside.

  A burst of anger has me jumping to my feet. I tug my hand from his.

  He lets me go so suddenly I fall back—right into the person standing behind me.

  10

  Sienna

  * * *

  Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me on my feet. I turn around, look up into a face I don't recognize.

  Yet, something in the layout of those features is familiar. He's of medium height, stocky. Not even the tailored, tasteful suit he's wearing can quite conceal the bulge of muscles of his arms. His fingers holding me are thick, but gentle.

  "Hey, Sienna." A wide grin lights up his pale brown eyes.

  "Tom?" I gasp.

  Am I dreaming? My childhood friend who I'd grown up with in Gainesville. The last time I'd seen him was before I'd moved to Silicon Valley. What's he doing in London?

  Tom pulls me to him and kisses me straight on my lips.

  Next to me Jace stiffens. Tension emanates off him. He hasn't said anything. And yet the space between us pulses with emotion. Jace's pissed off.

  It makes me very conscious that I am standing here, in front of Jace, within the circle of another man's arms. I hadn’t set out to make him jealous. But a part of me is pleased.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask, trying to wriggle out of Tom's hold.

  "Sienna honey, you look amazing," he croons. Then he moves me back in position. Right. Against. Him.

  I giggle.

  It's a very Tom gesture. Over the top. Demonstrative. Not quite meaning it.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask again, then answer my own question as I remember. "Your family did move to the UK, so I guess it's not a surprise you are in the country. But still, meeting you here?"

  His hand works down to my butt, and I reach behind me to slap him away.

  He'd always liked to flirt.

  A pair of hostile eyes drill into me and I can't ignore Jace anymore.

  Jace's eyes veer from me to Tom and back.

  He doesn't move, but his hands fist at the side. The violence mixed with rage inside him reaches out to me, forcing me to react.

  I push against Tom, pinch him in the arm till he releases me. Then I move back, till I feel the bar behind me. Putting enough distance between us, so it's clear we're not touching.

  And yet, Jace doesn't take his eyes off us. That predatory look still in his eyes as if he's sensing something unspoken between me and Tom.

  I want to explain that Tom is only a friend.

  A childhood friend who means a lot.

  And then I wonder, why do I want to do that? Why do I feel this need to calm Jace down, to provide an explanation?

  As much as I want to tell him who Tom is, to clarify the situation, I also want to see Jace hurt. I want to see him helpless. As helpless as I'd felt watching him with that beautiful man outside.

  The one I'm not going to ask about.

  Tom looks from me to Jace, a question on his face. As if asking Jace for permission? Seriously? Something passes between them. Something unsaid, a man-code of some kind.

  Jace's eyebrows slash down. He lifts his hand and I flinch. But all he does is wrap his arm around my waist, hauling me close, the possessiveness in his gesture unmistakable.

  Stunned, I turn to face him, as Tom's chuckle floats over my heads. "Who's your boyfriend, Sen?"

  Damn. Tom is calling me by my nickname to annoy Jace. A not-so-subtle hint that Tom has known me for a long time. Longer than Jace.

  "Not my boyfriend," I shoot back.

  "Almost fiancé," Jace says in the same breath, his fingers tightening on my skin. He plasters me to his side.

  And my emotions go a bit crazy inside. Why is Jace acting so possessive?

  I like it. Very much.

  Damn.

  "Fiancé?" Tom's eyes dart to Jace, then back at me.

  Feeling me stiffen, Jace brushes his hand over the bare skin of my lower back. The warmth of his body curls around me. His hand slips down to grip my hips and he hauls me to him. Fits me snugly into the 'V' between his legs. His arousal thrusts against the curve of my butt.

  Oh. God.

  Heat streaks through me, liquid desire. Moisture pools in my core. And my lips go dry.

  I melt into him.

  It earns us another stare from Tom, but I don't care.

  I'm too busy trying to figure out what is happening between me and Jace. One minute, I think he's a cynical, money-minded man, trying to manipulate me. The next, he's showing a part of himself that I didn't know. A possessiveness that intrigues, that hints at something more between us.

  The silence stretches.

  Neither man makes the effort to introduce himself.

  Tom turns to me, smiles. "Well then, why don't I leave you guys to it." Turning to me, he says, "I'm in room 208. Why don't we catch up later?"

  Jace's muscles tense in response.

  No, he didn't like the blatant invitation in Tom's voice.

  I dig my fingers into his thigh. Rock solid muscle. I massage it and he stills.

  Tom turns to go, then stops. "You're here for Natalie's wedding?"

  "How did you guess?" I ask, then reply to my own question. "Of course, the entire hotel is booked out for the guests of the wedding, isn't it?"

  Behind me the tension vibrating from Jace reaches a crescendo. Tom has outstayed his welcome. If he doesn’t leave I'm sure Jace is going to do him bodily harm.

  "Well then, guess we'll see you at the wedding?" I try to soften Jace's harsh dismissal of my friend.

  A last tentative smile thrown in my direction, Tom leaves.

  Jace and I stay as we are―my back against the unyielding strength of his chest. He fingers splayed across my belly. I feel the outline of each of his fingers through the thin material of my gown.

  He's branding me.

  A disturbing thought. More because it doesn't bother me as much as it should.

  Damn.

  I must tear myself away from him, move to straighten, and his arm tightens their grip on me. But when I take a step forward, he lets me go.

  My heart lurches in disappointment.

  Why do I like his touch on my skin so much?

  Jace asks, "Did you know he was coming?"

  I turn around, "I haven't seen Tom since I left home to move to Silicon Valley."

  Jace nods, eyes hooded. He doesn't believe me.

  11

  Sienna

  * * *

  Jace and I cut across the hotel grounds. We head towards the pool house, where the evening cocktails are being held. I pause next to a bunch of pink f
lowers growing next to the garden path. Starlight lilies.

  Bending down, I inhale deeply of their scent.

  Soothing. It calms me a little.

  I straighten, to see Jace watching me, eyes hooded.

  "You like lilies?"

  "Love their fragrance. They smell so exotic, intense with so many layers, it's almost like a puzzle." I keep my voice matter-of-fact. Another secret I've given away. I'm sharing more of myself than I intend to.

  "You like puzzles?" He asks, voice husky.

  "Hmm. Depends."

  Are we still talking flowers?

  My eyes skitter away to swimming pool that reflects the skies.

  I don't want him to learn of my tastes. Any information he has will be used against me, I know that.

  We continue walking.

  The pool itself blends into the surroundings so artfully that the overall effect is natural. The unpretentiousness of it all hints at serious wealth. I've never felt so out of place.

  Glasses clinking, the muted hum of conversation, and the sound of someone laughing floats across the balmy evening air.

  We're about to be seen together as a couple, in front of other people. People who know Jace as the son to the heir of the Walker Fortune and a successful Angel Investor. And they're going to find out that I am not what I seem.

  Fear jitters up my spine. I come to an abrupt stop. Jace continues a couple more steps before turning back.

  He tilts his head, frowns.

  "What is it? Is my tie askew?"

  I shake my head, and the words stutter in my mouth.

  The late evening breeze blows over my bare shoulders, and I shiver. That little scene with Tom has upset me more than I realized. And Jace's possessiveness has shaken me to the core. I want more of the connection that had tied me to him. It had made me feel I wasn't alone for the first time.

  But this is a business relationship. He's employed me to play a role. And his being jealous of Tom was no doubt an act, a rehearsal for the façade we must maintain in front of his family.

  Except I want it to be real.

  I'm falling for him.

  The breath catches in my throat. Emotions churn, tying my stomach in knots.

  Can I get through this farce and get the money I need?

  The thoughts I'd held at bay since I'd embarked on this insane trip come rushing over me. I feel a little sick as my mind lurches from one thing to another.

  Leave now. Go.

  I half turn.

  Stop.

  Turn back to him.

  And perhaps in that slight jerky movement, in the flicker of uncertainty that scrolls across my face, he senses how close I am to breaking, to giving in and taking him to my bed.

  Or letting him take me, possess me with that uncompromising need I sense in him. If we make love it won't be simple. Not simply a physical act. He'll want more. Demand I give him everything. My emotions. My feelings. He won't stop till he breaks through all the barriers. Strips me of my secrets. Owns every part of me.

  Sleeping with him will mean giving up not only control of my business but also of my emotions. Never before has my independence, my sense of self been so threatened. I know our coupling will be nothing less than absolute, an act that will sear my soul.

  I'm not ready for that.

  Not yet.

  His gaze sharpens and a look of concern shadows his features, gone so quickly I think I've imagined it. Then he closes the gap between us and he touches my cheek, pushing aside a strand of hair. A feather light touch that brings tears to my eyes.

  "Hey," he says, his features uncomfortable, as if not quite sure how to handle this. "It's okay. If you'd rather not go in, we can head back up."

  Swearing to myself, I screw my eyes shut to keep the tears from flowing.

  Give me a demanding business negotiation, and I can face up to the toughest ball buster in town. But I'm useless when it comes to making sense of my own emotions.

  I clench my palms at my side. He places his hand on my shoulder, and I freeze.

  I don’t look up, just focus on his throat. I want to reach out and place my lips there, find out how he tastes…and that confuses me even more. I'm in the middle of having a meltdown and all I can think of is touching this man. Biting my lips, I stand there frozen, unable to move. Knowing if I move I'd be lost.

  Knowing if I don't leave now I risk losing myself in him. Only one day and I'm close to sleeping with him. If I spend a week with him, there'll be no turning back. I'll fall for him.

  I'd lost my blood family, the ones I don't even remember. Then my adoptive father who had been the guiding force in my life. And now I'm in danger of falling for Jace. Will he leave me too? I'm merely someone employed to fulfill a role.

  My emotions must have shown on my face, for he asks, "You aren't thinking of changing your mind, are you?" His voice is cautious.

  I flinch.

  Now that I hear him say it aloud, the foolishness of trying to get out of this arrangement hits me.

  "As if that option is still open?" I say, and my voice comes out bitter.

  He squeezes my shoulder. I wince again, this time from the real pain that shoots through my arm from his grip.

  When I glance at him, I find his eyebrows furrowed as if he's trying to understand me, as if he's trying to figure out what to say. His eyes glint more silver than green in this light, stormy as if he's grappling with emotion.

  "For fuck's sake, Sienna," he says. "Don't go getting cold feet now. I should have known. A novice like you wouldn't have the nerves to see this through."

  I bristle. He’s good at this, knows exactly which buttons to press.

  "I'm not a novice," I say, my voice stronger as anger licks through my nerves.

  He half-smirks and that only makes me want to prove him wrong.

  I know he's playing me. Making me angry enough to take up his challenge and see this through. But even knowing he's manipulating me does not stop me from taking the bait.

  Shrugging off his hand, I square my shoulders. Then, I stalk off toward the building by the poolside where the party is being held

  12

  Sienna

  * * *

  I push open the heavy black curtains leading into the pool house and step inside. The heat hits me, a contrast to the balmy evening outside, making me gasp. The stench of power, shot through with incense, overwhelms me.

  Lit discreetly in the corners are glowing sticks stuck into the ground, bathing the space in notes of sandalwood and magnolia.

  What looked like a two-floor Victorian structure from outside has transformed.

  The space is big, much bigger than I would have imagined it to be. On one side an indoor pool―heated, judging by the steam rising off it.

  On the far side women in swimsuits laze by the pool. One of them shrugs off her top. Dives in. Avid eyes follow her even as the conversation never ceases.

  O-k-a-y.

  Closer to me, men talk to each other. Men, with sculpted abs and tiny swimming trunks that reveal more than they hide.

  One of them stops mid-conversation, catches me staring. I redden. Jerk my head to the other side.

  There's a bar on the far end of the room. People scattered around, talking, holding drinks. The colored dresses of the women shimmer through the overheated air.

  They look civilized, but I know they're not.

  This is a genteel version of the Wild West. These men and women would tear each other's eyes out in their race to outdo each other. In money, possessions, their choice of sexual partner. One step wrong and they'll never let me live it down.

  I. Don't. Care.

  I refuse to be bogged down by the rules of this fake society. Or by Jace and his growing hold over my emotions.

  A bead of sweat runs down between my breasts.

  I hesitate, noticing the couple closest to me deep in conversation. The woman has a white, silk, shift dress, that clings to her every curve and leaves her shoulders bare. The man she's ta
lking to is as tall as Jace, with grey hair at his temples.

  His jacket stretches over his shoulders as he bends toward the woman. Even though his back is to me, something about the tilt of his head, the way he stands, is familiar. The woman looks over his shoulder, her eyes moving past me, to fix on someone else.

  Jace. I feel his solid presence, next to me as he slips his arm around my waist. I barely stop myself from leaning on his strength.

  The woman's face breaks into a smile, at which the older man turns. His eyes fall on Jace and pause with no change of expression. Before moving to me. Sweeping over me.

  His gaze pauses on my breasts and my waist, sliding down my legs before snapping back to my face.

  The audacity.

  He walks toward us and I flinch. I'd have taken a step back, if it were not for Jace's arm, a steel band around my waist. His fingers splay, heat seeping through the material. He's trying to calm me.

  I can't stop staring at the man approaching us.

  Green eyes. Eyes familiar, yet different from Jace's. No trace of that silver that makes Jace so unique. No trace of life.

  Yeah, Jace's eyes are alive, vital. Something I hadn't realized till now. In contrast this man's eyes are ice chips.

  As the older man takes another step forward, there's no mistaking the threat, the anger implicit in every muscle on his frame.

  Tension crackles between the two men. Conversation around us ceases. Everyone's watching, waiting. To see what happens next.

  Caught in the crossfire, my heart stutters in fear. Then starts beating again. So fast I feel each. Individual. Heartbeat.

  Jace's grip on me tightens. The pain cuts through my haze of confusion. He places a finger below my chin and turns my face to him.

  "Look at me, Sienna," his voice is urgent, a frown marring his forehead.

  I fix my gaze on the hollow of his neck, taking in a deep breath to steady myself.

  The man stops beside us, but Jace doesn't acknowledge him. In a pointed snub, he bends down and brushes his lips over mine. Arm heavy around my waist, the other burning through the material on my shoulders, he hauls me to him, signaling his intent.