Page 5 of The Fake Fiancé

“Good,” he repeats. “You have about an hour to settle in before we have the opening gala. Allow me to show you upstairs to your room. Your bags should have already been delivered.”

“Oh.” I take a beat to digest that before how casual the suggestion is sinks in. “I’m sure I can find my way there.”

“It’s on my way,” he insists, tilting his head towards the elevators. “Follow me.”

Having Adam anywhere near where I sleep seems like a wildly bad idea, but I have a feeling arguing will only prolong the interaction and run the risk of him catching on to justwhyI don’t want things to seem so casual between us.

Obediently, I follow him to the elevators, taking in just how confident he seems even in this place filled with strangers. Does he even notice it anymore, how the world shifts for him? I follow in his wake, just taking it all in.

When we reach the elevators, I silently pray that someone, anyone else, will join us in the confined space, but once the doors open, I know it’s just going to be the two of us. The doors close, and I concentrate on keeping my breathing slow and even.The walls are mirrored, and in an effort to look anywhere but at Adam, I meet the gaze of my reflection instead.

It’s a startling image. I’d dressed nicely but comfortably, soft slacks and a maroon sweater, but the hours and hours of travel have taken a toll on me. My cheeks are flushed from the cold, hair wind-tangled, and boots still wet from the snow outside.

My gaze darts to Adam’s reflection without my permission, and of course, he’s already watching me. His eyes hold my own for a fraction of a second before he looks away, clearing his throat, “The mountain is beautiful this time of year.”

The observation is a peace offering, and I take it. “It’s breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

"Have you not traveled much?"

"Not like this," I admit. "It's sort of out of my tax bracket."

Adam laughs, the sound genuine, and it transforms him. For a moment, the serious billionaire is gone, replaced by a handsome man who looks like he actually enjoys the world around him. "You're working for me now, Elowen. Welcome to the tax bracket."

The elevator slides to a smooth stop, and the doors open onto a plush, carpeted hallway that dulls the sounds of our footsteps. He stops in front of a door near the end of the corridor, and my heart gives a nervous little flutter. He pulls a keycard from his pocket and swipes it, pushing the door open for me before stepping back. I have a brief moment where I consider asking why he has a keycard for my room, but maybe things are just different here. I mean, in France.

"After you," he says.

I walk in, and the room is… wow. A four-poster bed sits in the center of the room with luxurious silk sheets. One wall is entirely made of glass, with a perfect view of the mountain peak and the valley below. The fire is already going, a soft glow in the dark room.

I step further inside, craning my neck to look at everything, and I turn to find Adam leaning against the doorframe, not stepping inside. "Is this… right?" I ask, laughing a little. “This seems like it's for, I don't know, a head of state."

"A guest of Valmonte Global is more important than a head of state," he says with a chuckle, "Your luggage is there." He gestures towards a large, mahogany wardrobe standing open, revealing my suitcase. "I'm sure you want to get ready for the gala. I'll have someone come up and escort you down in an hour. Don't be late."

"I won't.”

He gives me a final, unreadable look, then he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding and lean against the wardrobe for support.

The gala. Right.

The dressI've picked out for tonight is black, long-sleeved, and simple, made of shimmering silk, with a plunging back. It’s elegant, understated, and I hope it’s enough to blend in.

Thank goodness for the company credit card I’d been given access to for shopping before this trip.

Once I’m freshly showered, with makeup applied and jewelry on, I adjust my dress and gaze out at the mountain. It’s so beautiful it almost hurts my eyes. Maybe I can do this. Maybe it will all be okay.

Right on time, a young woman knocks on my door to escort me to the gala. I follow her down to the ballroom, the space already filled with people. They're a sea of immaculate outfits and glittering jewels, multiple languages ebbing and flowing through the crowd. It feels like different parts of my brain latch on to each thread of language until I lock in and center myself. I don’t need to parse through what everyone else is saying. I just need to translate for Adam, nothing more, nothing less.

I'm led towards a small table where Adam is already seated, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He's talking to an older man with a shock of white hair, but when he sees me, he stops, and his eyes widen slightly.

He excuses himself from the conversation and stands as I approach.

"Elowen," he says, rolling my name over his tongue like an expensive brandy. I shiver.

"Adam.” His suit is perfectly tailored to his body, even his noticeably broad shoulders and thick arms. He looks incredible.

"You look…beautiful."

It's a simple compliment, one that almost anyone would give a woman in their company, but his slight hesitation and the darkness of his pupils as he says it have my mouth going dry. Oh, I’m in trouble. Ireallyshould have reconsidered this job. Damn you, brain, why did you desert me? Or was it betrayal?