One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 24

I’d been avoiding Fox. Things were just weird. Maybe I was making them weird. I probably was, but I didn’t know how to handle this thing between us. The sex was amazing, and I absolutely wanted him again, but there was something that felt wrong about it.

I couldn’t explain why. I was a single woman. He wasn’t really my client. He was, but he wasn’t. I wasn’t actually working alongside him every day. He was single.

But there felt like a chasm between us. Because when I thought about it, it wasn’t like he was trying to pin me down right now, either. We had been back for days and had not spoken once. We worked in the same building, but we didn’t see each other. It all felt very odd. I hated how much I thought about him. He had knocked me off my normal routine.

Which was why I was trying to get back into the groove of things. But even that proved to be impossible. Because everywhere I went, I was reminded of him. I couldn’t even go to my usual spin class without having him thrown into my face. My spin class this morning left me unsettled. Several women approached me and knew me by name from articles published about my engagement while we were in Silicon Valley. I had been shown pictures of me and Fox at the event together. We looked like a couple. The headlines about “The billionaire of the age and his bride to be.”

The spin class ladies were the last straw. I had been elevated to pseudo-celebrity status, and quite frankly, I didn’t like it. Old connections that I hadn’t spoken to since leaving New York had come out of the woodwork—like they could smell his money on me. They were acting like I was the billionaire. No one had talked to me in years, but now they wanted to be friends. Now it was all about getting my address so they could send me Christmas cards. The bullshit “how have you been” and “we have to talk more” were making me crazy.

Even at the office, any mention of HomeTech and their marketing plan made me feel hot. Like physically warm. I didn’t think anyone had noticed, but it felt obvious. I stopped myself from fanning my face, but just barely.

I pushed all thoughts aside and pulled on the pretty brown skirt I was wearing for Thanksgiving dinner at Christa’s house. I was halfway through getting ready when my phone buzzed with a message. It was Christa reminding me to bring the pumpkin pie.

I applied my lipstick, staring back at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help but wrestle with my conflicting emotions. The logical part of me screamed that this—whatever this was with Fox—was complicating my life unnecessarily. Yet, there was another part, perhaps the reckless part, that thrived on the thrill, the unpredictability of it all. It was the same part that fantasized about him whenever I was alone in bed.

I adjusted the beige sweater and checked my reflection in the mirror. I stared at the woman I had come to know the last couple of years. The boring, colorless wardrobe and lack of any real makeup was my new identity. But being with Fox that night made me want color and excitement. It was like being woken from a deep sleep.

I was my own version of Sleeping Beauty.

But now, I was back to being the woman I was. Boring. Drab. Unexciting.

I grabbed the pumpkin pie off the counter and the bag with two bottles of wine and headed out. Thanksgiving had never been my favorite holiday, but I had spent years perfecting my “Happy Thanksgiving Face,” and today was no different. The pie on my passenger seat was already making the car smell like sugar and cinnamon, and the two bottles of wine clinked together every time I took a turn.

I felt more like an imposter than usual. It wasn’t the holiday itself—I could handle small talk about gratitude and indulge in pumpkin-flavored everything without much effort. No, it was the thought of seeing Fox again, after days of not hearing from him. It made my stomach do this weird, fluttery thing that I couldn’t stand.

I knew he was invited to the dinner. Why wouldn’t he be? He was Wilder’s brother. Of course he would be spending the holiday with his family. I thought about canceling, feigning some horrific contagious disease, but Christa would see right through that. And I couldn’t do that to her.

I parked outside Christa’s house, reminding myself for the hundredth time that I was here to see my friends, not to obsess over Fox and whatever was going on between us. I forced myself to think about the man in Paris. That was who I was supposed to be with. I needed to find my way back to him. Fox wasn’t it. He couldn’t be it.

I grabbed the pie and wine and made my way to the front door. Frank and Harriet bounded out the front door before I could stop them. Frank had a stuffed turkey toy clamped between his jaws, and Harriet was doing her best imitation of a Tasmanian devil in a cornucopia sweater. Poor dogs. Christa really needed kids. The dogs were poor substitutes.

“Alright, alright, I get it! Happy Thanksgiving to you too.”

Christa appeared at the door, wiping her hands on an apron that had little pumpkins all over it. “Natalia, hey! Yay wine!”

“That’s the only reason you invite me over, isn’t it?” I teased, handing over the bottles.

“Well, that and the fact you bring Costco pie.” She winked and pulled me into a hug.

The warmth of her embrace made me feel guilty. I should have called her sooner, told her about the ring, the proposal. Instead, I had put it off, wanting to avoid all the inevitable questions. Now, I was going to have to face the music, especially since the star of my fake engagement was standing outside by the smoker, drinking beer with Wilder.

Shit.

Part of me hoped he would fake some illness and not show up. He was avoiding me just as much as I was avoiding him. I peered through the kitchen window, catching sight of Fox in jeans and a knit sweater that looked almost too cozy. He turned, just slightly, as if he sensed me watching. Our eyes met, and he quickly looked away, focusing on Wilder again.

Weird.

Christa must have noticed the look on my face because she nudged me with her elbow. “So, you want to tell me what’s up, or should I pretend I didn’t see that?”

I pasted on my best fake smile. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Uh huh. And the rock on your finger is just a coincidence?” She raised her eyebrows, pointing to the diamond ring that felt heavier by the second.

We put the bottles on the counter. Christa handed me an opener and I quickly got to work screwing the cork out.

I sighed, already feeling the tension creeping up my neck. “I was going to call you, I swear. It all just happened so fast, and it’s complicated.”

“Relax, Natalia. I know it’s not real.”

“You know?” I felt my face heat up. How did she know? Was I that transparent?

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve known you for a decade. I can smell a sham engagement a mile away. It’s fine. It’s not going to kill you, and it’s not going to kill him either. This will blow over once his launch is done, and then you two can call it quits. Unless…”

I narrowed my eyes. “Unless what?”

“Unless you’re catching feelings,” she sang, winking at me like we were still in college.

“Christa, stop it,” I snapped, a little sharper than I intended. “We’re colleagues.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but her knowing smile said it all. “Whatever you say.”

We moved to the dining room, where the smell of yams and spices filled the air. It was all I could do to keep from glancing outside at Fox. I needed to get it together. We’d slept together, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. Except that I wanted it to mean something, and that was the problem.

I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him. I was supposed to be thinking about the man I met in Paris, the one who’d made me feel like I was floating. But lately, when I tried to picture him, it wasn’t his face I saw. It was Fox’s.

The sound of the back door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. Wilder came in, carrying the turkey, and Fox followed behind, his eyes flicking over to me before he looked away again.

“Wilder, the turkey smells amazing,” I said.

“Of course it does,” he said with a grin. “I’m a master of the smoker.”

Dinner started out light enough. We talked about the dogs, the weather, and the various dishes. It was all very safe territory.

“So, Natalia,” Christa said, feigning innocence as she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate. “How’s it going with the HomeTech project? You must be almost done, right?”

I cleared my throat, ready to give a standard response. “Yes, with Hanna rolling out to the public, we’re just about wrapped up⁠—”

“Not quite,” Fox interrupted, his tone casual but his words surprising me. “Williamson & Rodgers will continue to handle our marketing and advertising through the next year.”

I stared at him. We had not discussed that. At all.

He met my eyes for a brief second before turning back to his plate. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. What was he doing?

“That’s amazing news,” Christa chimed in, oblivious—or pretending to be. “You two must make a great team.”

I forced a smile and held up the wine bottle. “More wine, anyone?”

“None for me, thanks,” Christa said, pushing her glass away.

“But I got your favorite,” I said. “You love this one.”

She hesitated, then gave me a small, tight smile. “We just started another round of IVF. I’m not drinking for the foreseeable future.”

“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I felt blindsided, and from the look on Christa’s face, she hadn’t planned on telling me.

Wilder, oblivious as ever, grinned. “Third time’s the charm, right?”

My stomach twisted. Christa hadn’t told me. She’d gone through this twice already without telling me? And now, I was learning about it at the dinner table like a casual piece of gossip.

Christa must have seen the hurt on my face. “We wouldn’t have been able to do this without Fox’s help, honestly.”

I whipped my head toward him, stunned. “What? How are you involved? Not as a donor!”

Fox’s expression faltered, and for a split second, he looked like he regretted the whole conversation. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. “No, of course not. I didn’t realize you didn’t know,” he said quietly.

I couldn’t process this. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. I managed to make it through the rest of the meal. But there was no way I was going to stick around for dessert.

I helped clear the table and then made my excuse to leave.

“Are you okay?” Christa asked.

“I’m fine. You know how it is when you fly. You’re exposed to everything. I don’t want to risk you catching it. I’ll talk to you later.”

I didn’t bother sticking around and rushed for the door. The cool air stung my cheeks, but it wasn’t enough to clear my head. I needed to get out of here. Away from him. From all of them. I was hurt. That feeling of being betrayed rose up, twisting my stomach and threatening to make my excuse about being sick become a reality.

“Natalia, wait.”

I turned, finding Fox right behind me. “What do you want?” I snapped.

“You’re upset.”

“Of course, I’m upset!” I threw my hands up, feeling my control slipping. “Why didn’t you tell me you were helping them? Why didn’t Christa tell me? Why does everyone feel the need to keep me in the dark?”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “I didn’t know she hadn’t told you. I didn’t know it was a secret. What is your problem with me? I didn’t do anything here. I thought I was doing something nice.”

I stared at him. There were so many thoughts running through my mind. I felt ridiculous. I’d been in love with a fictional man I met once. I’d fantasized about the man for a whole year. Now my feelings for Fox were getting in the way of the fantasy that had kept me going since my divorce?

What I felt for Fox was complicated and edging on something I’d never felt. Not even with Andrew. And now I had this stupid ring on my finger that meant everything to everyone on the outside looking in, and nothing to him.

I shook my head. I couldn’t talk. I got in the car, prepared to drive away. He caught my door, holding it open, and leaned down. “Come home with me,” he said.

I stared up at him with genuine surprise. It was so blunt. “So, we can sleep together again?”

“You’re upset. I don’t like the idea of you being alone⁠—”

“You want me to come over so we can sleep together again.”

“Whatever you want,” he said.

“Is that what you think this is?”

“I don’t know what this is,” he growled. “You won’t even give me your number, Natalia. But if sleeping together is what you want from me, don’t make it so complicated. Use me. I will happily get on my knees for you, and you know that.”

I slammed the door closed and drove off, leaving him in the driveway. My emotions were all over the place. I hated that my own friend felt the need to tiptoe around me. For the first time in a year, I finally felt like myself again. Now, looking back, I could see how much my behavior had affected Christa. I had been a horrible, self-absorbed friend.