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“Yep, the rest of the class have varying learning difficulties or impairments, so it is super busy, but I am all they have.” I shrug as he sits next to me, rubbing his chin, looking deep in thought.
“We are here, sir,” the driver states as he gets out of the car, opening my door, and Ben runs around the back of the car again.
The first thing I notice is the noise. The car was super quiet, but now that we’re in the city, the streets are busy, cars, taxis and buses all vying for a piece of the road. The second thing I notice is the smell. Rubbish, pollutants, varying foods now infiltrating my senses, the fresh air of the outskirts now a distant memory.
Ever the gentleman, Ben offers me his hand again, and I grip on to him, a little unsteady on my new stilettos. I am thankful that I don’t fall on my face. We make our way quickly into the restaurant, and I look around tentatively as soon as we enter. It is beautiful. Exactly the kind of place a billionaire would take his date. White linens, candlelight, small tables, lounges, and shiny flooring.
The staff scurry around as soon as they see us, and we are promptly seated at a table to the side toward the back. We are within sight of most patrons, but a little secluded, which I appreciate.
My eyes are darting everywhere, and I can feel my shoulders tensing up near my ears.
“You okay?” Ben asks, and I whip my head back in his direction to be met with his deep eyes staring right at me.
“I am absolutely starving.” The words rush out quickly as I smile. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that what they say?
“The wine you ordered, sir?” A waiter comes promptly to the table, his uniform pristine and stature straight.
“Thank you,” Ben says, nodding, his eyes not leaving me even for a beat.
“None for me, thank you.” I put my hand over the top of my glass, preventing his pour.
“You don’t drink?” Ben asks, sitting back a little.
“I do, just not much, and not on a school night ever,” I say, grabbing my glass of water and taking a gulp, feeling extremely parched at the moment.
“So the champagne I saw you sipping at the bar?” he prods, leaning forward, his hand on the table, resting there for only a second before he grabs mine again.
My eyes flick to our connected hands for a beat before they trail back up to his face.
“Many people are watching us tonight, so we’ve got to put on a show,” he says with a wink as he lifts my hand, the big diamond glistening, and kisses it softly, his eyes never wavering from mine.
“That night at the bar was my once per year trip into the city with my friends. I had exactly two glasses of champagne before I left for the night. My limit is two. Any more than that, and I cannot function the next day.” I offer him a tidbit. Might as well get to know each other better while we are here.
“Okay, no alcohol. I got it,” he says, placing my hand back on the table, but keeping it in his.
“So, have all your ex-girlfriends stalked you after you broke up, or just the beautiful supermodel-like ones?” I ask, knowing that a woman like me is so far removed from what a man like Ben would usually date, it is almost comical.
“This one in particular is hard to get away from. But now I have you. You’re my secret weapon.” Winking at me again, he raises his glass and takes a sip of wine.
“I will try my best to beat them all away from you. Wait until she hears how fantastic you are at swimming lessons. My ten kids are very excited to have the extra help in the overcrowded, unfunded, public swimming pool.” I smile wide then, knowing that he is going to hate it.
“You underestimate me, Emily. You think I can’t handle the heat you bring?” he teases, his thumb now rubbing over my hand.
“Oh, I know you can’t.” I laugh lightly, enjoying the way his eyes light up with our banter.
“Bring it on,” he challenges with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“You got it,” I say with a wink of my own, just as he moves my hand in his, and our fingers intertwine, just like that of true lovers. Nothing has ever felt more right, and I need to repeat the words in my head to not get carried away with this. It is fake. It is all fake.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – EMILY
Ben sits relaxed opposite me. His eyes have been glued to me all night, and I have caught him a few times checking me out. As our fake date goes on, he is smiling more, his handsome features keeping me on edge.
“You know, whenever I go out for dinner, I am usually rushed, talk about work, check my phone constantly. But tonight, I haven’t looked at my phone once; our work talk has been minimal, and I could sit here with you for as long as you’d let me,” he says, his honesty flowing out of him, making him even better-looking than he was before. And it’s because I feel the same.
“Well, I can’t say tonight was too painful for me either,” I quip, our eyes now openly devouring each other.
“Were you expecting it to be?” he asks, sitting forward, keen for my answer.
