Chapter 6
stella
Sweat forms along my upper lip as I fight my hair with the brush. A slick back ponytail completes my outfit, but the stress of what I have to pull off tonight and the rest of this week does not. Shoulders burning, I drop my arms and tilt my head, looking at myself in the mirror.
What the actual fuck am I doing?
One last drag of my comb through my hair and a quick pep talk, I roll my shoulders back, opening the bathroom door.
Jonas stands at the end of the bed, pulling on a dark linen blend shirt, and the sight of him almost knocks me on my ass. He makes quick work of the buttons and then drags his hand over his chin.
“Damn, Stella.” He blows out a breath, and his gaze trails from my head down to my toes.
The intensity in his eyes, mixed with the effortless confidence that seems to be woven into him, causes my stomach to flip.
I give myself less than a second with this free-falling feeling before squaring my shoulders back.
“You look good, Stell.”
“Yeah?” I smile, enjoying the look on his face as he stalks toward me, and I lift my chin higher, not wanting to break eye contact with him. “If you saw me in a bar, would you approach me?” I keep my tone playful, but there’s nothing playful about Jonas when he responds.
“If I saw you in a bar, you’d be mine before last call.”
My heart hammers in my chest when his fingertips graze my collarbone as he lifts and untangles my necklaces.
His scent that overpowered me and made me blind with lust for him earlier engulfs me now.
It’s not a basic sandalwood or cedar, or whatever the other woodsy scents men are wearing these days.
No, Jonas smells clean and seductive, but rich and sexy at the same time.
“Well, try not to fall in love with me before the appetizers,” I quip, but it comes out breathier than I intended.
The corner of his mouth quirks before he turns toward the door, unknowingly giving me the space I need to catch my breath.
The fresh, salty air caresses my skin as we step out to the waiting golf cart, and I’m finally able to breathe normally again.
Until Jonas drops his large hand in mine, intertwining our fingers, and I feel the air knocked out of my lungs once more.
Luna Del Mar is nothing short of breathtaking. The outdoor restaurant is nestled right on the beach with tables under massive palm fronds. Bistro lights decorate overhead, and soft music plays from the bar.
My family has spent the last hour and a half laughing and smiling, mostly because of some story my fake boyfriend has provided.
“Oh my god!” My mom wipes away a tear that has fallen, and I can’t help the way my lips turn up. She has always had the loudest laugh in our family, and it’s almost always accompanied by tears. “Why didn’t your friend just tell this Camila girl about his promotion being at risk?”
“Miles is more of a ‘no risk, no reward’ type of guy.”
Relief washes over me as my family continues to laugh and engage in conversation with Jonas, without any sort of suspicion pointed my way.
“Mija, I don’t think you ever told me where you two met.”
I open my mouth, but Jonas drapes his arm around my shoulder, effectively halting any thoughts I had. His fingers graze my bare skin until his knuckles run a path down my spine, and I don’t need to look to know his gaze is on me.
“We met at Camila's art gallery,” Jonas supplies.
I suck in a breath and turn to face him. His eyes lock with mine, almost as if they were waiting for me this whole time.
“I dropped by one evening with my buddy Miles, and standing in front of quite possibly the ugliest piece of art I’ve ever seen was the most gorgeous woman that’s ever walked this planet.”
My lips press together, and I narrow my eyes at him, silently telling him, ‘Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?’
He responds by twisting his fingers around the hair of my ponytail, his eyes playfully shining back at me, and then he gives a little tug.
After dinner, Rico gave us a ride back to our suite in the golf cart, and I ran to the bathroom to hide and attempt to cool down.
Admittedly, throwing myself into a fake relationship with a stranger wasn’t a fully thought-out plan.
The most overlooked part, though, was the way my body would react to said stranger.
Now, I’m once again over-analyzing myself in the mirror, when before today, it was borderline concerning how little I cared about what someone else thought of me.
I run my fingers through my hair, taming down the wild strands before adjusting the barely there straps on my silk pajama set under my robe.
It would appear Aiden’s infidelity might not have broken my heart as much as it did my confidence.
Done delaying the inevitable, I take a deep inhale and crack open the bathroom door. There’s a soft light in the distance, but other than that, the room is mostly dark.
The tile is cool against my bare feet as I pad across the room and stop at the side of the bed.
Jonas is resting against the headboard, with black rimmed glasses, no shirt, and lord knows what under the crisp, white sheet covering him from the waist down.
His scruffy face is highlighted by the computer that sits open on his lap, and I clutch the robe I’m wearing a little tighter now.
“Get in the bed, Stell.” His voice is rough yet smooth at the same time, and it ripples down my spine.
“See, the thing is, I didn’t exactly pack my winter flannels.”
A slow, understanding smile forms on his lips, but he doesn’t look at me.
Instead, he closes his laptop, covering us in a blanket of darkness.
I hear the small thud of it hitting the side table and an even softer tap that I’m assuming is his glasses.
There’s a quiet rustling of the sheets and two taps against the bed closer to me. “There. Now I’m none the wiser.”
I blow out a breath, drape the robe over the edge of the bed, and climb in.
Other than my fingers tapping against my rings, I remain still.
My eyes adjust to the darkness, and now I’m able to catch the soft hues of light attempting to come through the window.
The quiet room is a stark contrast to the thoughts screaming in my head.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jonas’s voice startles me, but in the next second, I’m somehow relaxing further into the bed. I turn on my side, keeping the distance between us, but I slide my hands under my pillow, looking over at him.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“What’s your real name?”
“What do you mean?” he asks without missing a beat.
“I mean, twice now someone has referred to us as Mr. and Mrs. Jonas, so I’m assuming that’s your last name.”
“It is.”
I wait for him to say more, but he only rolls over to face me now. “Great. I’m fake dating a guy and don’t even know his real name.”
“It is my real name, babe. It’s just my last name.”
I roll my eyes but have to bite back a smile.
“My turn to ask a question?”
“Shoot,” I mimic him.
“What’s going to happen on the next family trip?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, won’t your family be expecting me? Or how about in the delivery room when you have children, they won’t wonder where I am, then?”
“God no,” I scoff. “No. Once I get home, I’ll have roughly six months until I need to put in some more quality face time. By then, I’ll have grown some balls and dumped you.”
“You’re not going to want to break things off with me. Especially not after your family falls in love with me.” The Christmas lights wrapped around the trees outside glow faintly through the blinds in the window, but even without the soft lighting, I’d be able to hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re right. I’ll tell them you died.”
“What?” He barks out a laugh, and it’s so deep and warm, I can’t help but smile. “Works too much is out of the question?”
“In my family, breaking up with someone because they’re devoted to their work is liable to send me straight to hell,” I say, rolling onto my back and looking up at the ceiling.
“Ahh. I come from a family like that.”
“What do you—”
“You sure you don’t want to just tell them the truth?” he cuts me off.
I take it as a sign that his confession was a slip of the tongue, and lost in that thought, I spill my own. “I don’t feel like listening to all the reasons why it was my fault.”
My eyes have adjusted to the room, but I’m still startled when Jonas’s calloused hand covers mine. I stop twisting the ring and hold my breath.
“Some asshole cheating on you is never your fault, Stella.”
Suddenly, the silk of my top feels too cool, and the warmth of his hand on mine feels hotter than a blue flame.
We lie like this for what feels like hours before I whisper, “Hey, Jonas?”
His muffled hum is drowsy, letting me know he’s already halfway to dreamland.
“I’m sorry I roped you into this.”
“Don’t be,” he breathes out, and I close my eyes just as he adds, “I like being roped around.”