One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 11

I stared into the blurred darkness outside the wine bar. The rain had come out of nowhere and was now pouring down in a classic fall storm. The downpour made it difficult to see anything outside. The streetlights looked like prisms through the rain. I kept glancing at the door, then back at my watch. Half an hour late.

I wasn’t sure what surprised me more: the fact that she was late or that I actually cared. I didn’t know Natalia well, but I would bet good money she wasn’t the type to blow off a client. She struck me as punctual, professional—down to the marrow of her bones. The kind of person who got to a meeting five minutes early just to scout out the room.

And I didn’t think she would stand me up. That would be admitting defeat. And even though I didn’t know her, I knew there was no way she would ever quit or forfeit. Besides, she was the one who suggested the wine bar.

I couldn’t decide if I was offended or pissed. Or maybe disappointed. I had actually been looking forward to sitting down with her outside of the office. Away from Christa and Wilder. Just the two of us. Clearly, she had other ideas.

I noticed the looks from some of the other couples all trying to look like they didn’t notice me sitting by myself. It was hard to say if they were looking at me because I was alone or because they recognized me as the tech guru I was. The people in the wine bar didn’t really seem like the kind of folks who would know who I was.

The waitress came by for the third time, her expression pitying now.

“Another drink?” she asked, tilting her head sympathetically.

“No, thanks.” I pushed my half-finished glass of wine away. I already decided she wasn’t coming, but it still irritated me. I didn’t have her personal number, only her office line. Calling now would make me look desperate. And I didn’t want to look desperate.

“Just the check,” I said, reaching into my pocket.

Maybe I had overestimated her. Maybe the polished exterior was just that—an exterior. Maybe she was as flaky as every other executive who thought they were too important to meet their clients face to face.

Or maybe she just wasn’t interested.

The disappointment was unexpected and unwelcome. I tossed some bills onto the table and headed out. The rain hit me like a cold slap in the face as I stepped onto the slick sidewalk. The city was a blur of headlights and neon signs reflected in puddles. I pulled up the collar of my coat and hurried toward my car.

I hopped in and blasted the heat and defrost. I pulled away from the curb and started down the road, already planning my attack for tomorrow. I was going to march right back into her office and let her know how unprofessional and rude it was to leave a client hanging without so much as a text.

I was about to turn left when I noticed a car parked awkwardly on the shoulder, its hazard lights blinking weakly through the downpour. I could make out the figure of a woman standing next to it. The woman looked drenched and miserable with no coat and wearing bright red heels. Most people would have driven past, but something made me slow down. There was a familiarity to the silhouette.

It wasn’t just any woman—it was Natalia.

I blinked, genuinely surprised. The irritation I’d felt earlier disappeared, replaced by something like concern. What the hell was she doing out here in this weather? Why was she standing in the rain instead of sitting in her car? I whipped around and pulled up behind her car, my headlights shooting directly at her. Her hair was plastered to her face.

I hopped out and walked toward her. My body blocked my headlight, letting me get a better look at her. She had an expression of frustration and embarrassment. She was soaked to the bone, shivering so hard I could see it even from a few feet away. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her bare wrists. As if that was going to help get her warm or dry.

I noticed she didn’t have her phone in her hand, and there was a defeated slump to her shoulders.

“You’re late,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“What happened?”

She sighed and kicked at the flat tire. “Tire blew out,” she muttered. “And I managed to lock myself out of the car. My phone is inside.”

I bit back a laugh. Of course she did. This woman, who looked like she had everything together, had locked herself out of her own car in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Get in my car,” I said, gesturing back toward where I had parked.

She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m fine.”

“Natalia, you’re going to get hypothermia. Just get in. Warm up for a second.”

“I said I’m fine.” Her voice was sharp, but it wavered slightly at the end. I took a deep breath, trying not to lose my patience.

“I insist.”

Finally, she huffed out a breath and stomped toward my car like a petulant child. I opened the passenger door for her, allowing her to slip inside. I got in on the driver’s side and closed the door, feeling a little victorious despite myself. I cranked up the heat and turned on the seat warmers.

“Where to?” I asked, glancing over at her. She was staring straight ahead, her teeth chattering. “I’ll take you home.”

“Just call me an Uber,” she snapped. “I can handle it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why are you being so difficult?”

She turned to me then, her eyes narrowing. “Because I don’t invite men back to my house. Ever. Period.”

“Can I call a tow? Triple A?”

“I’ll deal with that later,” she said. “I’ll call roadside assistance to unlock my car so I can get my phone and purse.”

“Do you know the number?” I asked.

She frowned. “My insurance card is in my car.”

I nodded, kind of figuring that was where it would be. I sat back, studying her. The rain drummed on the roof of the car, filling the silence as I waited for her to make the decision. She wasn’t just being difficult. She was being guarded. She didn’t trust me—or anyone, it seemed.

I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to make her this way. My research on her had been brief. It was all surface level. Numbers, accolades, business deals. I knew she had been married and divorced, but clearly, there was some drama behind it. What would she say if she knew Christa had pushed for me to propose the fake engagement as a way to make me look better? A way to make the launch of my new tech successful. She would probably strangle me with her bare hands. That was not something I was going to bring up. Especially not now.

I sighed, realizing she needed help but was never going to ask for it. She would turn into a popsicle if someone didn’t step in. She was tough as nails and was clearly afraid to show any weakness. I didn’t want to make her feel less than or weak, but she couldn’t just sit out in the rain all night.

“I live nearby. You can warm up, get some dry clothes. I’ll call someone to sort out your car.”

Her jaw clenched. “I said, just call me an Uber.”

“Let me help you,” I said, more sharply than I intended. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked almost hurt. Then she closed herself off again, like a book snapping shut.

Without waiting for her response, I pulled out onto the road and headed toward my apartment.

She didn’t say a word the entire drive. I wasn’t going to add insult to injury by lecturing her about the danger of sitting out on the street alone. I wasn’t going to tell her she was being stubborn and foolish. I had a feeling she already knew all of that.

We got back to my place. She didn’t say a word as I unlocked the door. She said nothing as she stepped inside. I turned on the lights, watching as she took in my space. My penthouse was pretty basic. I knew I could afford something out in Montlake or Bellevue, but I didn’t want a house. It seemed silly to have a big ass mansion for just me. The apartment in the high-rise had everything I needed.

“Follow me,” I said, turning on more lights as I led her down the hallway. I walked into my room with her waiting in the doorway, like she was afraid to enter.

I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from my closet. I motioned toward the bathroom. “You can change in there.”

She hesitated for a second, then took the clothes from me without meeting my eyes. I watched the door close behind her and ran a hand over my face, feeling more drained than I should have. I didn’t usually care this much about anyone’s problems but my own.

I made a few phone calls while she was changing, arranging for her car to be towed to a shop my brother swore by. The weather was getting worse by the minute, the rain now mixed with sleet, and the roads would be a mess for hours.

When Natalia finally came out of the bathroom, she looked like a completely different person. Her hair, which I’d thought was straight, had curled into wild, dark waves that framed her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. She looked younger, softer. Vulnerable.

She was my damsel in distress.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice coming out gentler than I’d expected.

She glanced up at me through her thick lashes, and for the first time, I saw it—the broken pieces she was trying so hard to hide. It made me feel like a complete asshole for pushing her earlier.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly.

I didn’t believe her for a second, but I didn’t press. Instead, I went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and handed it to her.

“I don’t have much else,” I admitted with a shrug. “Unless you want a protein shake.”

She took the beer, her fingers brushing mine briefly. It was such a small touch, but it sent a jolt through me. I cleared my throat and leaned against the counter, watching her as she took a sip.

“Your car is being towed,” I said. “They’ll take care of the tire and get it back to your office tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, staring down at the bottle in her hands. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said quickly. But then, because I saw an opportunity, I decided to take it. “But you do still owe me one drink.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “This counts, doesn’t it?”

“Not even close.”

We were quiet for a moment, the tension easing slightly between us. I didn’t feel the same urge to get under her skin, to rile her up. I just wanted to talk to her, really talk. Her eyes scanned the apartment. I noticed her notice one of my hoodies tossed over the back of a chair and a pile of paperwork scattered on the coffee table.

“Come sit down,” I said and gestured to the black leather couch.

I went to the wall panel and turned on the gas fireplace. The windows that covered two of the walls in the open living area provided a nice view of the city along with the water in the distance. She sat down and pulled her legs under her. Between my large clothing and her stripped down version of herself, she looked tiny, vulnerable, and I felt a strong urge to keep her safe. From what? I didn’t know, but I felt it all the same.

Heat from the fireplace flooded the room, the flames dancing and casting a soft light over the room. I sat down in my favorite recliner. I knew she was out of her element. I wanted to make her comfortable.

“Do you think your marketing concept will be successful?” I asked, watching her carefully.

She took another sip of her beer, her expression thoughtful. “I hope so,” she said. “I’m normally confident in my proposals. Always, actually. But I don’t know much about the tech industry. It’s different. Your whole AI tech is new for me.”

Maybe that was why she didn’t do the pitch. She was used to being the boss of all things. I could help her. I could give her some confidence. “I’m going to a tech symposium in Silicon Valley in two weeks,” I said. “You should come with me.”

She looked up, startled. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said. “It’s a good opportunity to learn about the industry, see what’s out there. Plus, it’ll give you a better idea of how to position our brand.”

To my surprise, she didn’t immediately say no. She stared at me, searching my face for something. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I hoped she found it.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll go.”