Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance

For the record, I was not jealous of the women Christian saw last night. I was merely worried about him being gone for hours since he was my boyfriend—well, fake boyfriend—and it would create a lot of headaches for me if anything happened to him.

That was all.

My skin prickled with awareness as we waited for Josh or Jules to answer the door.

It was their belated housewarming, and Christian had finagled an invite since Rhys and Bridget were in town for both the party and some diplomatic event. Something about wanting to see Rhys and not being able to meet up with him separately.

I’d planned to avoid Christian until I sorted through my tangled feelings toward him, but now I had to spend an entire day with him while his confession and warning played like a broken record in my head.

I’ve never wanted anyone more, and I’ve never hated myself more for it.

Go to your room, Stella. And lock your door.

My imagination couldn’t resist spinning fantasies of what would’ve happened had I not left after his warning…or if I hadn’t locked my door like he’d told me to.

Rough hands. Whiskey kisses. Footsteps in the dark.

Heat arrowed down my torso and pooled between my thighs.

I clutched my housewarming gift closer to me as my breaths quickened.

Despite my love of crystals, tarot, and all things mystic, I didn’t believe in magic. Not the spells and broomsticks kind, anyway. But in that moment, I was certain that Christian could crawl inside my mind and pick out every dirty, wicked fantasy I’d had of him.

His stare burned a hole in my cheek as the crisp April afternoon turned into a furnace. The sun blazed a ruthless path over my exposed skin and slowed my heartbeat while the silence wrapped tight hands around my throat.

I might’ve suffocated right there on the front steps had Jules not opened the front door and saved me.

“Stella! Christian! I thought I heard you guys,” she bubbled. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

The tension collapsed, pulling Christian’s gaze away from me and loosening the string holding me upright until I sagged against my boxed candle gift set with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I thrust the box at her, hoping she couldn’t pick up on my restlessness. Once Jules scented a whiff of gossip, she chased it down like a dog after a bone. “This is for you. Happy housewarming.”

Her eyes lit up. She lived for presents. She once told me it was a shame Santa wasn’t real because, as old as he was, she’d fuck him if it meant she’d wake up to a different gift every morning.

Granted, that had been after three eggnogs over the holidays, but still. Jules Ambrose’s mind worked in fascinating ways.

“Thank you! Come in, come in. Everyone’s already in the living room.” She took the gift with one hand and opened the door wider with the other. “Just take off your shoes and leave them by the door. I personally don’t care, but Josh is anal about that.” She rolled her eyes in good-natured exasperation.

“That’s because I don’t want people tracking city dirt and grime all over our floors, you heathen.” Josh came up behind her and kissed her cheek before greeting us with a dimpled smile.

“Hey, guys. Welcome to our humble abode.” He swept a dramatic arm around the two-story townhouse.

I’d visited before, so I was familiar with the hardwood floors and charmingly mismatched décor—Jules’s fluffy pink rugs next to Josh’s black leather furniture, her red lip-shaped pillows offsetting the hideous paintings strewn on the walls.

Josh was easy on the eyes, but his taste in art was questionable at best.

“Nice art,” Christian drawled.

“Thanks.” The other man beamed. “I picked it out myself.”

“I can tell.”

I shot Christian a quick look, but his expression was impassive.

“I am not a heathen.” Jules was still stuck on what Josh called her. “As for the grime and dirt, that’s what cleaning is for.”

“Yeah? And who does the cleaning?” he asked as we walked toward the living room. His lean frame moved easily around the skis propped haphazardly against the open door of the front hall closet and the empty Crumble & Bake box half-sliding off a side table.

He was an ER doctor at Thayer University Hospital, but with his tousled dark hair, tanned skin, and razor-sharp cheekbones, he could play one on TV as well.

“I do,” Jules said primly. “When I have time.”

“The last time you had time, you spent it giving yourself an at-home facial.”

“My skin needs pampering. Being a lawyer is stressful.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Might I remind you that the last time you had time, you spent it getting your ass whooped at chess by Alex?”

Josh scowled. “I did not get my ass whooped. I was getting the lay of the land. Figuring out his weaknesses.”

Jules patted his arm with a soothing hand. “There, there, babe. It’s okay. I still love you even if you suck at strategy.”

I swallowed a laugh at their bickering. Some things never changed.

We entered the living room, where the rest of the party sprawled across two leather couches.

Bridget jumped up and hugged me the instant she saw me. “Stella! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too.” I squeezed her tight. To the rest of the world, she was a queen, but to me, she’d always be the girl who I binge-watched The Bachelor and stayed up late drunkenly discussing the philosophy of life with when we were in college. “How’s the royal life treating you? Behead anyone lately?” I teased.

She released an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately not, though I was tempted to sentence the minister of the interior to the guillotine. Rhys talked me out of it.”

She cast a playful glance at her husband, whose muscled, six-foot-five frame made the couch he was sitting on look like a piece of doll furniture.

“Half me talking you out of it, half the fact no one uses guillotines anymore.” Amusement softened his battle-hardened gray eyes.

“I could bring them back. I’m the queen. What I say goes.” Bridget sank back onto the seat next to him with regal haughtiness, though her face glowed with mischief.

A grin split his face. “Of course you can, princess.” He murmured something else too low for me to hear. Whatever it was, it made Bridget’s cheeks flush pink with pleasure.

Jules nudged Josh in the ribs with a dreamy sigh. “Why don’t you call me princess? It’s so cute.”

“Because you’re not a princess. You’re a hellion,” he said, earning himself a deep glare. “And that’s just the way I like it.” He drew her to his chest and planted a dramatic kiss on her lips.

Jules made a half-hearted attempt to push him off, but laughter bubbled from her throat. “Nice save, Chen.”

The lighthearted atmosphere eased my earlier tension as I leaned over to hug Ava.

She was curled up next to Alex, who eyed the other couples’ sweet interactions with distaste while he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

“If you want to engage in PDA too, now’s the time,” I joked.

She laughed. “Noted, but we’re good for now.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Alex is allergic to PDA.”

“I am not allergic.” He grimaced when Jules looped her arms around Josh’s neck and said something that made his face soften. “Merely disturbed.”

“Alex has performance anxiety,” Josh said without looking away from Jules. “It’s okay, dude. Happens to the best of us. Maybe you can invest in the development of a pill that’ll help with your problem. It’ll be like Viagra for kissers.”

“If I were to invest in the development of anything, it would be a custom muzzle to keep you quiet.”

A mischievous dimple creased Josh’s cheek. “Alex Volkov spending all that R&D money on me? I’m honored.”

Jules buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Ava placed her hand on Alex’s arm. “Don’t kill them,” she warned. “We can’t lose a bridesmaid and best man this close to the wedding.”

“The term best man is false advertising.” Alex pinned Josh with a dark glare. “I should swap you out with someone else.”

“You can try, but I’m your only friend, and who can throw a better bachelor party than me? That’s right, no one.” Josh answered his own question. “Besides, I already put down the deposit for the jumbo banana float and custom poker cards. They’re illustrated with a drawing of Ava and a robot in a suit.”

I turned my head away so Alex couldn’t see my smile.

Besides Ava, Josh was the only person who could get away with provoking Alex like that.

Maybe.

“Christian, it’s nice to see you again!” Ava chirped before her fiancé strangled her brother to death in the latter’s living room. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”

They’d met once at Bridget’s wedding, but meeting someone once had never deterred her from treating someone like they were an old friend.

“I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to hang out with Stella’s friends,” Christian said easily.

He rested a hand on my lower back, and I almost stepped away from the sheer heat of him before I remembered we were supposed to be dating.

I’d caved and told my friends they could tell their significant others so everyone here knew we were pretending, even if they didn’t say it.

Still, should I keep up the act for simplicity’s sake or not?

Indecision tightened my muscles.

Christian must’ve picked up on my hesitation because his jaw flexed as his hand lingered for an extra second before he withdrew it.

Relief and disappointment battled for dominance in my chest.

Meanwhile, the room fell silent as six pairs of eyes ping-ponged between us. I wasn’t the only one unsure about how to treat our relationship; I could see the confusion scrawled all over my friends’ faces.

An awkward shadow darkened the room before Jules clapped her hands.

“Since everyone is here, let’s start happy hour! I have a new margarita recipe I’m dying for you guys to try…”

No one questioned her, even though it was barely noon.

Several homemade margaritas and way too many chips later, I found myself on a couch with Ava, Jules, and Bridget while Christian, Alex, Josh, and Rhys sat across from us.

I’d stuck to my two drinks per party rule, but Josh had been so heavy handed with his pour that my head swam like I’d downed half a dozen tequila shots.

“We need a girls’ trip soon.” Bridget leaned her head back and yawned. “Something fun. I’m so tired of diplomatic trips. I fly thousands of miles to smile and shake hands with a bunch of old men. I could do the same thing in Parliament without the jet lag.”

“Yes!” Jules brightened at the prospect of a wild weekend abroad. “Ava, your bachelorette is coming up. Let’s make it big. Let’s make it unforgettable. Let’s make it—”

“Safe and legal,” Ava said firmly. “I don’t need to go to jail again.”

Ava, Jules, and I had gotten arrested during Bridget’s bachelorette after Jules punched some creep in the face for groping Ava. Thankfully, Bridget had left by then, but our stint in a cold Eldorran holding cell wasn’t one of my fondest memories.

“Again?” Bridget’s head popped up. “When were you in jail?”

“Uh…” Ava’s cheeks pinked. “That was a figure of speech?”

We’d never told Bridget what happened because she would freak out. Besides, Alex had bailed us out and taken care of the aftermath—i.e. kept it out of the press—so no harm, no foul.

“You said again.” Suspicion darkened Bridget’s elegant features.

“She’s talking about the time we broke into the clock tower in college and ran into campus security,” Jules interjected. “Anyway, of course the bachelorette will be safe and legal. I like to live life on the edge, but I don’t want Alex to murder me, thank you very much.”

We looked over at Alex, who was listening to Josh detail the thirty-six different uses for a jumbo banana float with a pained expression.

On the other end of the couch, Rhys and Christian were engaged in conversation, their voices too low for me to hear. Rhys was scowling; Christian looked amused.

It should be illegal for that much gorgeousness to occupy such a small space. But while every man was devastating in his own right, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to the lean form lounging closest to the door.

Christian turned his head at the exact moment my attention landed on him. Our gazes locked, and an electric current of something primal singed my blood.

The fogginess clouding my head suddenly had nothing to do with the margaritas.

“Forget the trip for now.” Jules’s voice dragged my attention back to her, though Christian’s eyes remained a hot brand on my skin. “What was that?”

“What was what?” My heart ricocheted in my chest.

The lingering aftertaste of strawberry and tequila dissolved into spice and whiskey on my tongue. It was how I imagined he would taste—like heat, sin, and pure, unfiltered masculinity.

“That.” Eyes like hazel blades punctured my feigned ignorance. She tilted her head a fraction of an inch toward Christian. “The sexual tension is so thick I can cut it with a butter knife.”

“There’s no sexual tension.” Unless you counted the ache in my core and the awareness tightening my skin.

“There is. Even I feel it.” Ava lifted her hair off her neck. “If it gets any hotter, I’ll have to make Alex revisit his no PDA rule.”

“Exactly.” Jules stood abruptly, drawing the men’s attention and interrupting Josh as he reached banana float use number twenty-five.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yep. We just need to use the restroom.” She grasped my wrist and pulled me up and toward the back of the house. Ava and Bridget followed us. “Don’t eat all the chips while we’re gone!”

“I’m a doctor, and I still can’t find a medical reason for why girls always have to use the bathroom at the same time,” I heard Josh muse as we left.

“You’re an idiot,” Alex said.

Their voices faded when Jules pulled us into the guest bath and shut the door behind us.

“Why do I feel like this is an FBI interrogation?” I leaned against the counter and eyed my friends warily.

“Because it is.” Jules planted her hands on her hips and adopted her lawyer voice. “Now, tell us the truth. Are you, Stella Alonso, having or have ever had sexual intercourse with Christian Harper?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

Two seconds of hesitation was enough to elicit gasps all around.

“I knew it!” Triumph glowed in Jules’s eyes. “I’m so happy for you! Finally, someone you’re attracted to. Christian is crazy hot, and you’re living in the same house. It’s like the perfect setup for a sexy fling.”

Bridget was less enthused. “I thought this was a fake relationship,” she said gently. “What changed?”

“Like Jules said, he’s pretty good-looking.” I instinctively grasped my crystal necklace. The warm, clear stone was supposed to clear my mind and help my focus, but my thoughts tumbled in my head like laundry set on high. “Also…” After another moment’s hesitation, I spilled everything that’d happened.

New York, Christian’s weird aversion to art, the watch, his confession about wanting me.

By the time I finished, three eyes pinned me to the marble counter with varying degrees of shock (Ava), concern (Bridget), and delight (Jules).

“I had a feeling he was into you since the day we met him,” Jules said sagely. “The way he looked at you when we signed the lease? Whew.” She fanned herself. “Listen, if you want to leave and bang his brains out, I won’t be offended. It’s a new season, babe. Time to clear out those cobwebs from your sex life. It’ll be like spring cleaning for your vagina.”

I winced at the mental visual.

“I wouldn’t jump into anything that fast.” A frown marred Bridget’s forehead. “Christian is, well, you know my thoughts about him already. I’m forever grateful he helped me and Rhys with our photo leak problem, but he’s not someone you turn to if you want a serious relationship.”

“That’s why I said bang, not date,” Jules said. “I bet he’s a beast in bed. He just has that look.”

Heat stained my cheeks. “What would Josh say if he knew you were secretly assessing other men’s sexual prowess?”

“He’d say he’s still better than them, and he’d be right. Our sex life is fantastic.” Jules cast an apologetic glance at Ava. “Sorry.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part.” Ava had accepted the relationship between Josh and Jules on the condition that they never discussed their sex life in front of her.

She turned to me, her dark eyes warm with concern and curiosity. “The question is, do you want just sex with him? Or do you want something more?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jules said. “Stel isn’t interested in dating. Right?”

The crystal flamed against my palm. I didn’t answer, but my silence spoke volumes.

“Oh.” Jules’s smile slowly faded into realization. “Oh.”

Oh was right.

I didn’t know if I wanted to date Christian, but I knew I wanted him.

And I knew it was only a matter of time before the dark chemistry between us exploded into something neither of us could come back from.