Chapter 14: Not So Fake Date
Why did I care? It would only complicate things. Cillian doesn't have to know my inner panic.
“I’ll get ready.” He gave me one last glance before he took off.
I place my hand on my waist, taking a few deep breaths.
I stood by my decision that Cillian and I shouldn't be seen enjoying each other’s company or reveal that we were married.
A fake date? How the hell could I survive when I felt on the edge?
I wore denim jeans and a tank top, keeping it more natural. Cillian yanked the hanging keys on the wall.
“You're driving?”I gazed at him, surprised.
“I gave our hard-working driver Mike a day off.” He played the keys on his fingers. It was so damn cute I almost cackled.
What’s with him and his sudden change of mind? Giving people who work for him a break? Very unusual.
“Okay?” He didn't respond, so I followed him to the garage. My jaw dropped open, staring at his slick, shiny Dodge car.
Holy smokes, "That's our ride?”
“Anything wrong about it?” He asked me to open the car door.
“A Dodge Viper for a fake date?” I mocked; he was keeping up with his billionaire status.
“You might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” His words came to me like sharp arrows.
The words rang in my ears while they lasted.
“Hop in.” He opens the passenger seat, allowing no time for me to sit on my offended feelings.
He placed the keys in the ignition, and the engine revved. My husband has a point to enjoy it while it lasts.
“The things I would do just to ride this car.” I blurted.
He released a belly laugh, rough, deep, and sexy. I was in his danger zone, again.
“There was no reason for you to hide why you wished to introduce me as your wife at the charity gala.” I addressed the elephant in the car.
He signed, and I knew he would turn down the conversation.
“Who told you? Malcom?” His throat throbbed.
“No, I figure it out myself, I’m not dumb.” A bitter laugh escaped my mouth.
“I didn't say you are, I just wish to understand your Sloane.” He clutched the steering wheel harder.
“There is no reason for you to hide it in the first place. I signed a contract, Cillian, last night. I felt blindsided.”
“I’m sorry, Malcom would find out about us if I told you. I wanted you to act naturally last night; that’s the only reason I didn't tell you.”
His soft voice made me tear up inside. I stay silent.
“Please, Sloane.”
I fired a shaky breath. I despised that I emerged weak.
Cillian reached out and forced my fist to open so he could lock our fingers together.
“I promise never to do it again. You agreeing to be my wife was more than enough; to burden you more is not right.” He added, his touch gave me a reassuring squeeze.
Our eyes met, and the light in his dazzling gaze calmed me, but it would be impossible to bottle this very moment.
Reign in your feelings, Rinoa. He was being kind, that’s all.
“Alright.” So many words I ought to say, but I settled with one.
I wasn't prepared to open some skeleton in the closet; some secrets should remain untold.
And I intended it to be this way.
“There is nothing I wouldn't do to keep you by my side.”
Why was he uttering heart-wrenching words to me?
“Don’t try hard, I’m your wife after all.”
“Even if you weren't, I won’t give you up.” His grin broadened, and my heart made an invisible cartwheel.
He was saying those sweet things now, but deep down, you know the real score, Rinow. Don’t get carried away, don’t get swayed, and stay in your lane.
We arrived at the restaurant, and our table was located in this alfresco garden corner.
“Is this even part of the restaurant?” I asked him,” It seems like a private thing.
I would play along in this charade.
“Should we sit where the reporter might be?”
Cillian looked cozy in the daylight; he wore jeans and a navy blue shirt that complemented his tanned skin.
He was truly devastatingly handsome.
“I have no idea where they might be. Relax, wife, if my suspicion is right, they might come to us.”
Huh? “So we act like a couple the entire time?”
“Yes, my lovely wife, maybe even for hours.”
A sly grimace occupied his lips. Oh gosh, was he trying to get close to me?
I turned my head away from him so he wouldn't catch me smiling too.
A waiter handed us the food menu, and Cillian scanned the paper while I was taking my time admiring his exquisite features.
“Does anything on the list have peanut sauce?” I asked the waiter.
“Just the fish cod, ma’am, the sauce is made with ground peanuts.” He informed me politely.
“Oh, okay, good to know my husband couldn't tolerate anything with peanuts,” I replied, flipping through the pages.
Cillian struck me with his calculated look, “How did you know that I have allergies to peanuts?”
My lips pursed, and my sight shifted from him to the menu.
“Uhm, I worked for you for a long time, Cillian, so I know these things about you.” I spat a total lie.
“Hmm.” He said, pondering.
Did I get caught for my blatant lies?
Of course, I knew how many moles he had and what position he liked to sleep. I was about to blow up the whole thing.
“Are you ready to order, ma’am?” The waiter asked, holding a pen and paper, and I closed the menu.
“I’ll take what he is having, please, thank you.”
The food was fantastic —the pasta was al dente, and the white sauce was a chef's kiss. I was so fond of eating noodles.
“Have you seen the reporters we’re supposed to pretend in front of?”
“No.” His eyes lit up, and his smile answered my question.
We didn't come here to pretend in front of anyone.
It wasn't a fake date; my heart melted. “You can stop lying now.”
He let out a funny roar, “Lying about what, flower?”
“You wanted to take me out on a date, yet you didn't want to admit it.” I teased him.
“Is it safe to say that our child might get your assumptive trait?”
The way he said 'our child' brought warmth to my soul. He reached out and ran his thumb on my bottom lip, wiping the remaining sauce. I froze.
If he only knew how I desired to kiss him, my walls were about to be destroyed. In no time, I’ll throw the white flag as a sign of surrender.