Page 143 of Dare to Love Me

I hold my breath.

Please say girlfriend.

That desperate little thought ambushes me from nowhere, which is just pathetic really.

But Edward says . . . nothing.

Please say literally anything that makes sense.

“This is Daisy. My niece.”

I stare at him like he’s just announced I’m actually a raccoon.

His WHAT?

“Daisy. This is my colleague John and his lovely wife, Rita. John is a radiotherapist at the hospital.”

Niece?

Right.

Okay. Sure.

I force my mouth into a pleasant smile. “Lovely to meet you both.”

The next five minutes pass in a blur of pretentious art chat that I’m physically incapable of processing. Edward could be confessing that he’s secretly running an underground ring of rogue surgeons who perform blackmarket operations, and I wouldn’t notice.

I’m too busy burning from the inside out.

His hand finds my back, steering me away. “We really must be heading off.” His voice is smooth. As if hedid not just pretend I’m his fucking niece in public.

He practically frog-marches me down the Tate’s stairs. I feel like I’m being escorted out of the premises for licking one of the paintings.

The second we hit the bottom step, I round on him.

“Your niece?” I hiss. “What in the actual fuck was that?”

“Keep your voice down,” he mutters, glancing around.

Oh, absolutely not.

He isnotgoing to make me feel like I’m being dramatic over this.

I fold my arms, seething. “Oh, I’msosorry. Should I be grateful for this promotion? Shall we get ‘World’s Best Fictional Niece’ printed on a mug?”

He exhales, rubbing a hand down his face likeI’mthe problem, likeI’mgivinghima migraine. “He works with me. What did you expect me to say?”

My pulse isthundering, a dull roar of humiliation and rage. “Hmm, I don’t know, maybe that we’re dating? Or would that require too much explanation? ‘Yes, this is Daisy, the woman I’m seeing’?”

His jaw tightens. “We agreed not to tell anyone yet. Giles works at the hospital, remember. I can’t let it get out with colleagues.”

“Does Giles work in the same department as John?”

He frowns. “No, but—”

“But nothing.” My voice wobbles traitorously. “Wow. You really are ashamed of me, aren’t you? I’m your dirty little secret.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”