Perfect! That will help with making our arrangement more convincing.
Still, I feel so bad for blatantly lying to the poor girl. But lying seems to come with the whole marriage of convenience territory.
I like Chloe, even though we’ve never really gotten to hang out. I remember Alba inviting her to a thing with us a while back, but she couldn’t make it. That girl isalwaysworking.
Growing up, she was a few years behind us in school, in the same class as Lincoln’s youngest brother, Oliver. In fact, the two of them seem to have this cute flirtation going on. I don’t blame Oliver for being infatuated with her. She’s so pretty, and she has one of those bubbly personalities that you can’t help but be drawn to.
Judging by the new security cameras now glaring down from every corner of the room, it looks like Oliver would go to great lengths to keep his ‘Chloe-licious’ safe.
I smile. I don’t know what it’s like to have a man care about me that much. To go out of their way to assure my safety.
Must be nice.
Once Lincoln and I are finished with our drinks, Lincoln helps me off my stool. “Thanks, Chloe,” he calls out as we weave our way through the crowd.
Lincoln is heading for the nearest available booth, but right then,Pretty Please, an upbeat Dua Lipa song comes over the speakers, and I just can’t pass up the opportunity to shake my ass. I grab his hand, trying to pull him toward the dance floor.
The wall of a man barely budges. Instead, he shoots me a silent warning over his shoulder.
I laugh. “Dance with me.”
He glances around, looking self-conscious. “I don’t really—”
“You promised we could do anything I want to tonight.”
He throws his head up to the ceiling like I just asked him to loan me a kidney or something.
Clinging to his big, muscular bicep, I butter him up. “You’re so strong and handsome and I just want to show you off for all the town to see.” I offer him my most coquettish look, complete with wide eyes and pouty lips. “Please,Fiancé.”
His pupils flare when I call him that.Hmm. I think he likes it.
“Fiancé…” I say again, my grin spreading wider and my tone dropping lower. “Fiancé…”
His gaze hooks on my lips. “What am I gonna do with you?” he mutters, leading me into the middle of the room and looping an arm around my waist.
“Marry me and help me lock down my inheritance?” I suggest cheekily.
Lincoln guffaws.
I like it when he laughs. Correction—I like it whenImake him laugh.
Mr. Button Up is a notorious grump. Any time I can coax him into flashing those straight, white teeth at me, it makes me feel unreasonably powerful.
As his arms circle my lower back, I peek around the room. I take note of the eyes following our every move.Good. Let’s put on a show.
I reach up and loop my arms around his neck, allowing my fingertips to tangle in the ends of his hair as we sway. His arms tighten around me, pulling my body closer to his. My breasts come alive, aching and tingling where they’re crushed against his powerful chest.
Lincoln has two left feet, and apparently, not one rhythmic bone in his body. But I like the way his tall, muscular form fits against mine.
I can feel the warmth of his skin. I can smell his musky, expensive-smelling cologne. I can feel his heart pounding. Or is that mine?
Staying on beat with the music is the least of my concerns as I rub myself against him. I’m no better than a cat in heat. My body is desperately wishing to be the object of this man’s attention. All. Night. Long.
He looks at me with drunken eyes. He leans down, his five o’clock stubble brushing my cheek right before he whispers in my ear. “What else?”
His hands find my hips, kneading them softly and provoking butterflies in the pit of my stomach.
“Huh…?” My voice gets all tangled up inside my constricted throat.
