Chapter Sixteen
NITRO
The Next Evening
Standing outside Marley’s apartment door, I’m wearing a goddamn tuxedo like a fucking penguin, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this nervous.
The tailored black jacket fits perfectly, custom-made, because nothing off the rack accommodates shoulders like mine, and the bow tie is already making me want to rip it off and throw it into the Nevada desert. But when I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror, I barely recognize myself.
I cut my scruffy beard shorter, I’m wearing cologne, my hair is styled back in a way that makes me feel like a damn imposter, and this fucking penguin suit is probably more expensive than my Honda Civic. I can’t help it as I let out an aggressive exhale, pulling at my cuffs for the umpteenth time.
I’m dressed like Damon Blackwell.
The man I’ve spent years trying to bury.
But tonight, for Marley, I’ll be whoever she needs me to be.
I lift my hand to knock, but the door swings open before my knuckles make contact, and every coherent thought evacuates my brain.
Holy.
Fucking.
Hell.
Marley is standing in the doorway, wearing that beautiful dress I bought her.
But damn, looking that good should be illegal in all fifty states.
Deep burgundy fabric hugs every curve of her body as if it’s painted on, the neckline dipping just enough to make my mouth go dry, and the slit up her thigh reveals a stretch of pale skin that makes me want to fall to my knees and worship her like the goddess she is.
Her red hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves, and she’s ditched the quirky glasses for contacts, making her green eyes look impossibly large and luminous.
But it’s the confidence radiating from her, the way she stands a little straighter and holds her head a little higher, that nearly destroys me.
“Oh… wow,” she murmurs, her gaze traveling from my polished shoes up to my face, lingering on the way the tux stretches across my chest. “You clean up nice, City Boy. I like the beard. The less scruffy look suits you.” She smiles in the most dazzling way, only making her even more beautiful right now.
I can’t speak.
I can’t move.
I can’t do anything except stare at her like I’ve forgotten how human interaction works.
“Nitro?” Her smile falters slightly. “You okay?”
“You’re fucking stunning,” I finally manage, my voice rougher than sandpaper. “Marley, you’re… I can’t even breathe right now.”
A blush creeps across her cheeks, and she ducks her head, suddenly looking vulnerable despite the bombshell exterior. “You don’t have to say that. I know this is all pretend—”
“Stop.” I step closer, closing the distance between us until I’m towering over her.
Her perfume invades my senses, something floral and sweet that makes my goddamn head spin.
“Nothing about what I just said is pretend. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and that’s not part of any act. ”
She looks up at me, her lips parting slightly, and I lean down, drawn by some gravitational force I can’t resist. Her eyes flutter closed. Her face tilts toward mine, and fuck, I want to kiss her, really kiss her, not for show but because I need her to know that I am in this.
Be fearless, Nitro.
So I lean in, just as her phone rings.
The shrill sound shatters the moment like a sledgehammer through glass.
“Shit!” Marley mutters, fumbling for her clutch. She glances at the screen and her entire body tenses. “Urgh… it’s Derek.”
Rage floods through me, hot and immediate. “Don’t answer it.”
“I have to. He’s probably calling about the gala.
” She swipes to answer, and I watch her expression shift from soft and open to guarded in half a heartbeat.
“Hello? Yes, I know what time it starts… Yes, I’ll be there…
No, that’s none of your—” She closes her eyes, jaw clenching.
“Fine. See you there.” When she ends the call, tension is evident in her shoulders, her fingers gripping the phone a little too tightly.
“What did that asshole say?”
“Just Derek being Derek.” She forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Reminding me that he expects professional behavior tonight… whatever that means.”
I tilt her chin up gently, making her look up at me. “Tonight, I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had. I’m going to spoil you, dote on you, and make sure every person in that room, especially Derek, knows exactly how lucky any man would be to have you.”
“You’re already the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had,” she says softly. “Well, technically, you’re the only fake boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” I offer her my arm, trying to ignore the words clawing at my throat, the confession that would change everything.
That I’m Damon Blackwell.
That her job interview tomorrow is at my company.
That nothing about us feels fake anymore.
But now isn’t the time.
Not when Derek has rattled her.
Not when she needs me to be exactly who I’ve promised to be tonight.
After the gala, I’ll tell her everything. After tonight, when I’ve shown her exactly what she means to me.
“Let’s go show Vegas what a real power couple looks like,” I say instead, and her answering smile makes my chest ache.
The car waiting downstairs is a Bentley Continental GT. Sleek, black, and worth more than most people’s houses. I keep one in a private garage for nights when the Honda or the Harley won’t cut it.
Marley’s eyes widen when she sees it. “Where did you get this?”
“Borrowed it from a friend,” I lie smoothly, opening her door.
It’s not technically a lie. I’m friends with myself, right?
The drive to the gala venue passes in a blur of streetlights and easy conversation.
Marley talks about her coworkers, pointing out who to avoid and who to charm, and I memorize every detail as if my life depends on it.
Her hand rests on the center console between us, and halfway through the drive, I cover it with mine.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers lace through mine, and I feel that simple gesture all the way to my bones.
When we pull up to the venue, some upscale hotel ballroom dripping with crystal chandeliers and pretension, valets swarm the car. I hand over the keys and round the vehicle to help Marley out. She takes my hand, rising to her full height, which barely brings her to my chest even in heels.
The height difference between us has never been more apparent, and I fucking love it. Love that I can wrap this woman up in my arms and shield her from the world. Love that she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes with trust written all over her face.
“Ready?” I murmur, offering my arm again.
She loops hers through mine, pressing close to my side. “Let’s do this.”
We walk through the entrance, and I feel the moment every head in the room turns toward us. Conversations pause mid-sentence. Someone drops a glass. The bartender stops pouring mid-pour to stare.
Because Marley is breathtaking, and I look like I could buy this entire hotel without checking my bank account first.
Well, technically, I can.
“Is that Marley Wren?” someone whispers.
“Who’s that guy?”
“Holy shit, he’s huge.”
I guide Marley through the crowd, my hand settling possessively on the small of her back. Her skin is warm through the thin fabric of her dress, and I feel her slight tremor, nerves, or excitement, maybe both.
Then I see him.
Derek.
Standing near the bar with a blonde woman clinging to his arm like a barnacle.
She’s pretty enough in a generic, forgettable way, the kind of pretty that comes from expensive makeup and good lighting.
But there’s an anxious energy radiating from her, the desperate need to please written in every forced laugh and clingy touch.
A second choice.
A rebound.
Merely a placeholder.
And Derek knows it.
His eyes lock on us the moment we enter his line of sight, and watching his expression transform is worth every penny this tux cost. His jaw goes slack. His eyes widen. And then, beautiful, perfect rage floods his face, turning his neck red and his hands into fists.
I can’t help it, I grin. A slow, predatory smile that says precisely what I’m thinking.
Yeah, asshole. Look what you let go.
“Is that Derek?” I murmur against Marley’s ear, already knowing the answer.
She tenses against me. “Unfortunately.”
“He looks like a sniveling little weasel.”
A laugh bubbles out of her, surprised and genuine, and the tension melts from her shoulders. “That’s exactly what he is.”
Derek’s girlfriend, I refuse to learn her name, tugs at his arm, asking him something, but he’s not listening. He’s too busy staring at Marley with a mixture of shock and possessive fury that makes me want to break his goddamn nose.
“Marley!” A woman in a sparkly cocktail dress materializes beside us, pulling Marley into an enthusiastic hug. “Oh my God, you look incredible. And who is this exquisite man?”
“This is my boyfriend, Damon,” Marley says smoothly, and hearing her call me that, even as part of our arrangement, sends satisfaction coursing through me. “Damon, this is Jennifer from accounting.”
I shake Jennifer’s hand carefully, always conscious of my size and strength around civilians. “Nice to meet you.”
“Boyfriend?” Jennifer’s eyes are practically glowing. “Since when? How did you two meet?”
Here we go.
Time to sell the story we’ve practiced.
I pull Marley closer, my arm wrapped around her waist, and let genuine affection color my voice.
“We met a few weeks ago. I was her Uber driver, actually. She got in my car looking like she’d had the worst day of her life, and…
” I look down at Marley, and I don’t have to fake the softness in my expression.
“Something just clicked. We started talking, and I couldn’t get her out of my head. ”
“That’s so romantic!” Jennifer sighs. “And you’re in transportation?”
“Among other things,” I deflect smoothly. “I invest in various businesses. Keeps me busy.”