Chapter 8
chapter eight
MARISOL
“So, he agreed?” Sabrina asks, her mouth stuffed with pretzels. “Just like that?”
I shrug as I pull the blanket from the back of the sofa over my knees. We were watching The Devil Wears Prada, but it was promptly paused when I tried to subtly mention that Leo and I are officially in a fake relationship. “Yeah, I guess.”
I wasn’t going to bring it up tonight, in case Leo changes his mind and wants to back out, but Sabrina kept apologizing for Saturday night.
For leaving me alone with a guy. But that’s what we do.
If one of us wants to go home with someone, that’s alright, only we keep in contact.
Except I never made it to this guy’s house, and I still can’t remember anything about that night.
She frowns as she swallows, her eyes moving from side to side. “You didn’t bribe him with sexual favors?”
“Sabrina!” I throw a pretzel across the couch and hit her right in the forehead. She squeals before picking it up and popping it into her mouth. “No, I definitely did not. Leo would do anything for anyone; he’s always been that way.”
I remember when we were teenagers, my partner for the senior dance show got injured playing football.
Leo came to our house to see Rafael that afternoon, but he caught me throwing a pillow across my room as he walked past. He could have ignored me—like most people would ignore their best friend’s little sister having a fit in her bedroom—but he didn’t.
He asked me what was wrong, and he had this look in his eyes that made it nearly impossible not to open up to him.
When I told him about what happened, he volunteered to be my partner for the show.
He could barely keep basic timing, but he practiced. We spent hours and hours going over the routine, and on the day of the show, he turned up.
Rafael teased him for months, but Leo didn’t let it faze him; he fell into one of those signature smirks he’s been doing since he came out of the womb and bragged about how he was a better dancer than all of their friends.
So really, the fact that he said yes so easily to going on a few pretend dates shouldn’t surprise me at all.
“Righttttt.” Sabrina drags me out of my memories.
I glare over at her. “What?”
Her eyes widen, and she pouts. “Nothing.” I roll my eyes. “Okay, but seriously though.” She taps her foot against mine under the blankets. “I really hope this works for you.”
Just as I’m about to agree, my phone buzzes from somewhere deep in the couch. It must have slipped between the pillows because as I feel around, I can’t get a grasp on it.
“Is that the theme song for Charlie’s Angels?” Sabrina asks as she fishes my phone out from somewhere under her.
I snatch it from her, not giving her an answer before I accept the call from Eva. “Eva, salve.”
“Busy tonight?” is all she says, but I can hear the anticipation hiding between every syllable.
Sabrina frowns at me from across the couch as I say, “No, I’m free. What do you need?”
“I need you to get your perky little ass down to Laura Russo’s gallery. The auction starts at six.”
A smile curves my lips even while my brows pull together as I sit up straight. “But I thought Laura’s team blanked you?”
“They reached out this afternoon,” she says. “Tonight is more than just a charity auction. It’s your chance to remind everyone who the hell you are, Deo.”
I can hear the grin in her voice, and one spreads across my face. “I’ll be there.”
“You better be, and don’t you dare forget your new favorite accessory.” I don’t get a chance to respond before she hangs up. My smile fades as I realize I now have to beg Leo to come with me. If he’s busy or says no…it will be fine. Either way, my name is on the list at the door.
“Well?” Sabrina sits up, her eyes pleading with me to fill her in.
I shake my head. “There’s this charity auction tonight at Laura Russo’s art gallery,” I say. “The place will be filled with big names. Anyone with a creative interest will be there, and I got a last-minute invite.”
“Hell yes, you did!” Sabrina squeals, the bag of pretzels crinkling as she launches forward in excitement. “What are you going to wear?”
Shit. “I have no idea.”
* * *
I let out a deep breath as I adjust my hair for the seven hundredth time in the last hour. I pull my arm to my side and take a deep breath, the mirror above my vanity reflecting every feeling running through my mind, but the one that shines through the brightest is nerves.
I shake my head, trying to physically dislodge the anxiety storm raging in my mind. I’ve always been a confident girl, but I feel so far from her as I look at the raspberry pink dress that hugs my figure, or it used to. More fabric pools around my waist than what used to.
I’ve always been slim. I was even a small baby. But I never worried about my weight, not until I found my way into this industry.
It’s not that I can’t eat. I used to down my nonna’s pasta dishes in record time, but now, it’s almost like the more I think, the less I eat.
And the less I eat, the less I want to eat.
It’s a cycle that is hard to break when I fall back into it, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a lot of stressing, in the last six months.
I blink away the hot moisture building behind my eyes. “Get it together, bitch,” I scold myself.
A knock sounds at the door, and I jump before forcing my eyes closed as I inhale another deep breath.
Like Eva said, tonight is more than just a charity auction. This is the first event I’ve been invited to since Jack attempted to ruin my career. It has to go well.
I smooth my hands down my dress and give myself another once over before I stuff my lipgloss in my purse and head for the door. When I open it, the last breath I took seems to be sucked from my lungs.
Leo turns around as I open the door, and I can’t help but acknowledge how fucking well his black suit fits him. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt underneath and a black tie to finish off the look. He looks devastating.
I look down, my eyes blinking a severe number of times before I can meet his gaze, and when I do, he’s wearing a hint of that smirk, and his eyes are glittering down at me.
He takes a pointed step back, pulling on his tie. “Do I scrub up okay?” he teases.
“Dio.” I shake my head. “This was a bad idea. I forgot how ginormous your ego is.”
That smirk breaks out into a boyish grin. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
I’m rolling my eyes when they catch on a sleek black limousine parked up in front of my house. “Whose car is that?”
“It’s ours,” he says as he holds his arm out for me. “Did you think we were going to rock up in your Fiat?”
I scowl at him as I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t hate on the Fiat.”
“Oh, I would never!” He presses his free hand to his chest. “But you want to make a good impression, right? Why not add a little drama?”
I don’t exactly have an answer, and when I try to form one, an exasperated laugh slips between my lips.
I can feel him smiling beside me as we walk down the front steps and cross the sidewalk to where the limo is already running. Leo lets my arm free as he opens the door for me, but as I’m about to slide into the leather seats, he captures my wrist in his firm grasp. “You look exquisite, by the way.”
My lips part, but once more, I’m lost for an answer. Since when does he talk like that?
“God,” he breathes a laugh. “Anyone would think that is the first time you’ve ever received a compliment, Deo.”
He knows it’s far from it, that it’s not even the first one from him, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that leaves me breathless.
“Are we going for fashionably late to this thing?” He looks down at his wrist, which sports a silver watch that shines in the golden light of dusk. “Orrr?”
“Right,” I say, finally slipping into the limo and scooting over as Leo follows me in. He leans forward, giving directions to the driver, and when his thigh brushes against my own, I become hyper aware of the lack of distance between us.
I clear my throat as he sits back, trying to rid myself of the lingering anxiety from earlier that is muddling my thoughts. “Maybe we should establish some boundaries for this whole…”
“Fake relationship?” He raises his brows, finishing my sentence.
“Yeah,” I reply. Why do I feel so awkward all of a sudden?
“Anything you want, Marisol. You’re in the driver’s seat. I’ll follow your lead with whatever boundaries you want to put in place.”
I nod. “Okay, yeah.”
I have no reason to feel awkward. I know Leo. I know he won’t do anything to make me feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure I could ever feel that way in his company. If there is anyone that I’d want to do this with, it’s him.
“Care to share those boundaries, so I don’t accidentally cross them?”
My head snaps up to see amusement written in the small dips of his dimples. “Yeah, umm. Okay, well…”
“Alright.” He chuckles, obviously understanding the fact that I did no forward planning here. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
“Yes.” I nod. We are supposed to be in a relationship. It would be weird if he didn’t touch me at all.
“Here?” He rests his palm on the skin of my knee, where the split of my dress gives way to my bare leg.
“Yes,” I repeat, my confidence growing as he takes control.
He lifts his hand, and his fingers fall delicately on my shoulder. “What about here?” His words slow with each question, his voice low.
My breath catches in my throat, but I push the word out. “Yes.”
Consent. This is about consent.
This is about knowing our limits, our boundaries, for this performance we are about to put on. Yet, for some reason, my heart is pounding in my chest as he lifts his hand to tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
“And here?” His bright blue eyes stare into mine, and I swear his gaze has never seemed so penetrating. So deep.
“Yes.” Maybe it’s simply the fact that we are in the low, dusk light, sharing a seat in the back of a limousine. But as his thumb skates along my jaw, my lips fall open. For a second, I wonder if he will slide his finger along my lip.
“Good,” he says, pulling his touch from my skin, leaving me feeling a small chill, like I’m caught doing something I shouldn’t be when the driver lowers the separation to speak to Leo.
I let my head fall against the headrest. What is wrong with me?
A girl goes without male attention for a few months, and all of a sudden, an entirely professional conversation about boundaries leaves her breathless?
Although I’m quite certain no male whose attention I’ve ever garnered has looked at me the way Leo just did.
I mean, Leo has looked at me hundreds of times. Maybe thousands. But never like that. Never like he might crash his lips into mine any moment.
“We’re here,” he says, sitting beside me once again. “You ready?” he asks as the limo rolls to a stop.
I raise my brows as I take the hand he offers me. “As I’ll ever be.”
The driver pulls the door open, and all I can see is flashing lights past Leo’s silhouette. Questions are already being fired at us, and we haven’t even stepped out of the car.
“Oh, and for the record,” Leo says, leaning back, “you can touch me wherever you want, Deo.”