He looks at me like it’s Christmas morning, and I’m the prettiest gift under the tree.
He looks at me like maybe the lines between fake and real are fraying at the edges.
I’m not going to let my rational brain shout that down. I’m not going to berate myself for feeling floaty and giddy as a woosh of air leaves his body on a “holy fuck.”
Tonight, I’m going on a date with my fake boyfriend, and if a rule or two should get bent or broken in the process… that might be okay too.
CHAPTER 34
Robert
“Holy fuck.” My brain has completely short-circuited. It’s literally the only thing I can say, and I’ve said it maybe three times since she appeared like a vision at the bottom of the stairs. I blink, but she doesn’t change or disappear.
This woman, this goddess, really is my date for the night.
Fake date.
Fake.
Fake. Date.
It’s not real. She’s real, but my relationship with her isn’t real. And there’s a whole shit-ton of rules I want to break right now when she’s looking like… fuck. Like that.
Christ. The rib-crunching anxiety I felt only a moment ago before she stepped into view flexes its hold around my torso, reminding me that it’s still there—tight, metallic, like breathing through chainmail. I can’t screw this up.
One of her sisters upstairs giggles, and when Rhiannon comes to a stop a few feet in front of me, there’s a tightening in my chest that feels like my insides may implode.
In mythology, she may have been forced to behave like ahorse and ferry people around on her back, but here and now, there’s a herd of horses in my chest crashing into my rib cage.
“Wow.”
Her pale cheeks stain with a pink bloom, and she offers me a smile. “You look great.”
I never went to my school formal, couldn’t be arsed with the expense or the fancy stuff. But tonight, I’ve brought a floral wrist corsage for her. It’s probably stupid, but men like me don’t get invited to castles. I wanted her to have something that says I tried.
I make my shaky arm reach out, offering her the corsage that matches her dress. Thank you, Aoife, for giving me the inside information during the week. She may be all mouth and whirlwind, but the youngest of the Morrigan sisters definitely seems to have a heart of gold.
“This is for you.”
She stares at the plastic container with the small, floral arrangement inside then meets my gaze. “You brought this for me?”
I nod.
“It matches my dress.”
I nod again. Her beauty has rendered me damn near speechless, and I feel like a complete idiot nodding my head up and down, but it’s all I can muster.
She points to my tie, and my handkerchief. “So does your outfit.”
My lips quirk. “I had an assist.”
We slip the corsage onto her wrist, and she brings it to her nose to take a deep inhale. “It smells incredible. Tell me about the flowers.”
Christ alive. She’s looking like all my wet dreams combined and asking me to nerd out over the flora wrapped around her wrist.
If her brother wasn’t standing ten feet away scowling atme, there’s every chance I’d come in my fancy fucking trousers. There’s something different in her eyes tonight—something steadier, like she’s not running from anything anymore. Or maybe I’m just the idiot praying she’s runningtome.
“It’s a black baccara rose, so deep a red it looks almost black in low light. This is a cream ranunculus for contrast. These indigo wisps are delphinium florets. Here we’ve got a hint of baby blue eucalyptus giving the silvery, textured edge. She added a sprig of asparagus fern dusted in gold shimmer to catch the light, and this is a preserved hydrangea corymb.”
