A Billionaire Fake Marriage (Complete)

Chapter 9

" GIO POV "

What the fuck do you think you are doing, De Luca?

I had no control. One look into her hazel eyes, one glance at her soft, pink-tinted lips, and I was lost.

Her deep blue dress hugged every curve on her body, and I wanted to touch her, feel her, hold her against me. I wanted to immerse myself in her.

She was unlike any woman I’d ever met. Any other woman in her situation would have jumped at the chance to go shopping for a dress, but Chloe sewed her own.
Of course she did.

She was crazily self-sufficient. If I told her my car needed an oil change, she’d probably roll up her sleeves and get right on it.

And God, was it a turn-on.

My dick had been hard from the instant I saw her in that dress and her strappy sandals.

Did I mention her grandmother had been in the room at that time? Excruciatingly awkward.

“Right,” she swallowed, drawing my attention to her throat.

Seriously, I was fantasizing about the curve of her neck? Fuck me.

“Our cover story.”

I forced myself to pay attention to our conversation. This was important.

“How about we met in a coffee shop three months ago, but I gave you a fake last name?”

She frowned at me.

“Why would you dot hat?”

“To ward off the gold-diggers,” I said bluntly.

She looked shocked.

“Is that what your world is like? Wow, that’s horrible.”

She chewed on her lower lip, and my dick took note.

“Okay. So I only found out who you were when I attended the town hall meeting?”

“Athena would buy that story,”

I thought out aloud.

“Would Wesley?”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’ll take care of Dave ,” she said, with a shrug.

Her voice was defensive.

“It’s not your problem.”

“You’re wrong,” I corrected her.

“It is very much my problem. If Wesley finds out the truth about us, you can be sure he’ll leak it to the papers.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” she said automatically, though her forehead was creased into a frown.

“That’d hurt and embarrass me as well as you.”

“And that matters to him?” My voice was cynical.

Maggie’s report on the Wannabe Hipster had not been flattering.

“Dave Wesley is a trust fund baby who likes being in front of the cameras.
This isn’t the first feel-good cause he’s embraced, and it won’t be the last.
He’ll do what it takes to keep himself in the public eye.”

She didn’t say anything to contradict me.

“I’ll take care of Dave,” she repeated.

Our meals appeared, and we ate in silence.
After about ten minutes where neither of us said a word, she looked up at me.

“If you take a lover,” she said, her cheeks pink,

“I’ll expect you to be discreet.”

I almost choked on my steak.

“A lover?” I frowned.

“Is that what you’d like to do?”

She avoided my gaze.

“I just thought I should make things clear,” she muttered.

“I can’t expect someone like you to be celibate during our marriage.”

“Someone like me.”

“Come on, Gio.” She looked almost angry.

“This isn’t easy for me. I’m trying to do the right thing here. I can’t sleep with you, but I don’t want to put up obstacles in your way. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fine.” She had me typecast.

She believed the best of Dave Wesley and the worst of me.

“That seemed reasonable. Discretion above all.” I resumed eating, though the flavor had vanished from the
food.

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