Was she talking about us?Me?Oh my god, did other people think we were a real couple? The realization blew my mind. That meant our faking was actually working, right? And if strangers believed us, maybe my family would too. Daemen was a genius.
I didn't have the brain cells to reply, but Daemen did.
"Thank you," he told the girls, grinning and holding me closer. Could he feel my racing heartbeat? "Now, we still have some shopping to do. Don't we, Miguel?"
I nodded even though I couldn't think of a single other thing I needed to buy.
"Wonderful." Daemen's eyes sparkled as he linked our fingers, another public display of affection. "Let's go, baby."
The girls behind us squealed. Hell, I could've squealed, too.
Because despite my self-imposed warnings, I was failing in my attempt not to fall in love with Daemen.
7
Daemen
After our adventureat the mall, Miguel was still clueless. The poor darling had convinced himself none of this was real. Even though I tried to sway him with a sexual encounterandplenty of PDA—both genuine on my end—he was too set in his thoughts to see through his prejudice.
I couldn't say it was entirely his fault. Human society had not been kind to him. It bombarded him with messages saying his body was unattractive, not to mention his family shaming him for taking "too long" to find a partner. No wonder my sweet fated mate was so down on himself.
But I'd had enough. Everything was changing tonight.
The night of the rehearsal dinner snuck up on us. In Miguel's eyes, this was the first real test of our fake relationship, though only his immediate family would be present. It gave me a good excuse to publicly dote on him.
"You're coming over? Now?" Miguel asked in a panic when I called to announce my presence.
"Yes. Who else is going to help you dress in your suit?"
"Oh. Right." He sounded like he was chewing his lip. "Well, you can come up as long as you ignore the mess, okay?"
"I promise I'll ignore it."
I chuckled to myself as I made my way to Miguel's apartment. What I found wasn't nearly as abominable as he'd made it seem. It was a typical bachelor's apartment with a couple dishes in the sink and a shirt haphazardly tossed over the back of the well-used couch. The tidiest area was his computer desk, which sported two large monitors spewing a string of unintelligible coding language.
"Make yourself at home," Miguel said as he let me in. His hair was damp, like he'd just left the shower. The air smelled like cotton candy.
"What's that delectable aroma?" I asked.
"Ah, that's from my bubble bath."
My mate took bubble baths? That was utterly adorable.
Miguel brought out the suit, which he held towards me like it was a dangerous exotic animal and I was a veteran zookeeper.
"Can you lend me a hand?" he asked.
It was sweet of him to openly ask me for help when he had no idea what he was doing and of course, I was glad to oblige.
"Of course," I said.
Miguel began to peel off his clothes, shooting me shy glances over his shoulder. "You're not gonna do a repeat of the changing room, right?"
"Would you like me to?"
He let out a breathless laugh. "You're really committed to the bit. My family's gonna love you."
I toyed with the urge to tell him the truth right here and now, but refrained. Demons crave drama. Confessing everything to Miguel as I wrestled him into a suit wasn't my fantasy. Besides, that buildup of suspense was delicious, like I was emotionally edging myself. It would all be worth it later tonight.
