His Fake Fiancee: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me) - Page 43

“Yeah, me and Christina talked, whenever she needs me. I’m good. I don’t have anything else going on.”

“Good.” Ivan opens his wallet and counts out a wad of hundred-dollar bills. “We appreciate it.”

I want to argue I was handling it, had handled it. Except I’m still stunned, still trying hard not to cry.

“Go pack a bag, sweetheart.”

Damn it, I blink and tears fall.

Gentle hands guide me to our worn couch then press me down. “I will be right back.”

I haven’t moved when Ivan comes back. I want to bang on Abuelo’s door, I want to tell him he’s wrong but I can’t because he isn’t, technically. I’m also not sure I’m going to be able to stop crying. Ivan’s arms come around me, murmuring softly things I don’t understand, and I hate that I cry harder.

I lose track of time. Finally, Ivan just picks me up and carries me out of the house. At the car he puts me inside. Then he’s back again with a suitcase he puts in the backseat. Once he’s in the car he fastens my seat belt, pressing another kiss into my cheek.

“It will be okay, love. I promise. He needs some time with it. He loves you. I will fix this.”

How can he fix this?

***

Ivan

Guilt is not emotion I have much experience with, yet I am filled with it as I listen to Christina sniffling beside me, trying to stop crying. I have fucked up her relationship with her grandfather, the most important thing in her life, the only family she has left.

I promised her that I would fix this, yet I cannot see any way to do so. His accusation made no sense to me. I have known her all of two weeks yet have no doubt she would never allow money to sway h

er to anything she did not believe was right.

As a man long familiar with money-hungry, gold-digging women, I know Christina is not one of them. Why the hell would her grandfather accuse her of being one?

I hesitate before guiding her into my bedroom. The idea of sleeping next to her, knowing she is in too much pain to take me, promises to be a night spent in hell. However, the idea of her sleeping alone, crying herself to sleep... No, there is no choice.

My concern deepens at the way she is simply going through the motions I put her through. I leave her on the bed, and go to my closet to grab a T-shirt of mine to sleep in. Packing for her was done quickly. While I grabbed several work clothes and some of the sexiest lingerie I had ever seen, the only things for her to sleep in were too damn skimpy to lie beside her all night without touching her.

Undressing her, satisfaction fills me at the marks on her body. Until I see her beautiful face swollen with tears.

I get her into the shirt and under the covers, then head to the bathroom. I wet a washcloth with cool water, then go back to her and press it against her swollen face. I want to go back to her grandfather and tear him apart piece by piece for hurting her.

Tucking her into bed, I move away from her to allow her time to fall asleep. “I will be back. I need to wrap a few things up.”

More like beat my cock a half dozen times before trying to sleep in the same bed without touching her.

“Ivan?” Her throat works. I cannot deny her what she needs. I turn off the lights, undress, and get into bed beside her. Moment after hot and heady moment starts flashing through my mind as she wraps her arms around me and sinks against me. It’s going to be a long damn night.

13

Christina

“Christina,” Ivan whispers against my cheeks, his lips graze over my skin. “It is getting late. We have an appointment.”

Groaning, I open my eyes. He’s only inches away from me. Those black eyes are soft and indulgent. Someone reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart for a painful second. I can’t stop myself from running a hand over his cheek; he is so freaking beautiful. Ivan’s hand goes around my wrist, pressing a kiss to the palm as he pulls it away.

“Time to get up, sweetheart.”

The sun is glowing through the white gauze curtains. He’s suited up, in a black pinstripe with a dark blue shirt, and a tie in pale blue check pattern. I want to pull him down to me with that tie, but it feels late and he’s got that he-means-business look to him, so damn sexy.

“What time is it?”

Tags: Fiona Murphy Erotic
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