He looks at me, his firm jaw tight, his eyes intense. “Okay, Sunshine. But you need to follow my lead.”
As we drive down the road, I spot the car drive out from under the trees, fresh leaves shedding like a snakeskin as it follows us. I look in the rearview mirror, studying the driver. “That looks like a woman to me.”
“Lucian will have help,” Rhett says. “Men like him always do. People who owe him favors, need the cash, or simply are too scared to say no to the Conti prince. We won’t necessarily know who’s watching us in the restaurant, so we need to be bright, happy, and oblivious. Look like two people on a date, nothing more.”
“We can do this,” I tell him. “We can pretend.”
His grip on my leg tightens. Despite the circumstances, warmth dances up my thigh and tingles between my legs. He glances at me again. Is he angry at me for calling this pretend?
But what else is it?
Surely, this is too messed up to be real.
“Yeah,” he says, voice grave. “We can pretend.”
“You just need to learn how to smile,” I tease, gently jabbing him in the side.
A hesitant smile touches his lips. Then he plasters on a fake one in its place, wide, with lots of teeth. “How’s this?”
I laugh. “You sound like you’re in pain!”
He chuckles. “Maybe, but do Ilooklike I’m in pain? That’s the important part.”
“No,” I admit. “You look like the happiest man alive.”
“Mission accomplished.”
CHAPTER 23
RHETT
We walk into the restaurant together, Elle on my arm. As the hostess takes my name, Elle’s eyes are on me the entire time, like she can’t look away. I feel slightly drunk, as if this is real affection.
As the hostess leads us through the bright room, I feel other couples looking at us. A man stares at me in obvious jealousy when he sees how dedicated Elle is to me. His wife or girlfriend is staring down at her cellphone. Women gape as if I must be someone special to inspire so much dedication.
But the main thing I notice is Elle. Bright-eyed. Beautiful. Trailing her hand down my arm as I pull her seat out for her in a show of intimacy that has my heart thudding.
I sit, order a bottle of champagne and a jug of water, then smile across at her. She returns the smile, but then, damn it, she breaks my heart a little. “Am I doing well?” She asks, a smile still stuck to her face.
I swallow, trying not to show my hurt. It’s like a punch to the gut when it has no right to be. This is what we agreed to. This is theplan.
“Excellent,” I tell her. “And me? What’s my score?”
“Very good. You look obsessed with me.”
“I don’t have to fake that part.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile never leaves. It’s like her eyes are windows into the real Elle, and the rest of her is playing the role.
The waitress arrives with a bottle of champagne. As she pours the glasses, Elle looks around the restaurant, still smiling, but searching for any sign of Lucian.
“Would you like some more time with the menus before you make your order?” The waitress asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I say.
I take my glass, raise it. “A toast?”
“We should, right?” Elle says. “For the optics.”
