Page 82 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince

“You’ve already said that.” Her terse words felt worse than a slap.

“Yes, but what I haven’t said is that I didn’t kiss her back.”

“Sure.”

I unclipped my seat belt and leaned closer to her. My hand cupped her cheek, and my thumb rubbed lightly up and down. “Babe, look at me. Please.”

Her tear-filled gaze met mine. Seeing her this way slayed me. Knowing I was the one to cause her pain brought me to my knees.

“She wanted to get back together. I told her I wasn’t interested. That you were who I wanted.”

Her eyebrows drew together, and her mouth opened and closed. “Why? This isn’t real.”

“I made you a promise, and I meant it. While we’re together, it’s just you and me. Real or not. I don’t want anyone else.”

Ashlyn blinked rapidly. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded. A huge sigh of relief escaped from my mouth. “Then we need to take care of this.” She pulled away from me and reached down on the floor to grab her purse. Opening it up, she took out a small box of tissues. As she ripped out a handful, her intention became clear. The softness of the tissue rubbed at my lips. When she pulled it away, I could see the red of Simone’s lipstick on the back of it.

Bile rose to the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry I gave you a reason to doubt me.” I snatched the tissues from her hand and rolled down my window.

“Dean, you shouldn’t do that.”

I would’ve preferred to get them out of the car completely but instead tossed them behind my seat. “I don’t want them near us. She’s already ruined enough of my life. I don’t want her screwing this up. Okay?”

She gave me a small smile. “Okay.”

We settled back in our seats and started to make our way once more to the charity ball. This time when I reached my hand over the console, she grabbed it tight.

***

TONIGHT’S VENUE WASat one of the Newport mansions. The event was to benefit local shelters that supported abused women and their families. My parents gave big and were typically the top donors of the evening.

I’d asked Mom once why it was so important to her. She’d shared that just before she’d gotten together with Dad, she’d been in another relationship. It had turned violent almost immediately. She was lucky she had good friends that helped her realize it wasn’t her fault and supported her choice of walking away. Mom met Dad a month later, and he showed her what true love and respect looked like.

My mom was pretty amazing. It hurt to hear her story, but it made sense how she drilled into me to be a gentleman at all times.

Simone’s on air interview hadn’t only hurt me. Mom never believed the lies, but it was harder to convince the public. The first year was a PR nightmare. My family donated extra to multiple domestic violence charities and staged publicity events hoping to bury the story. Seeing my philanthropic side combined with no past girlfriends corroborating Simone’s story eventually eased it further into the past.

“That fountain is lovely,” Ashlyn said, her gaze taking in the small details of what had once been considered a summer cottage for the elite of Newport.

I steered into an open space in front of the mansion, a two story, snow-white terra cotta baroque style with classic lines and iconic columns. Through the grand arched windows adorned with flowers, and angels holding musical instruments I noticed people already gathered inside.

A valet was immediately at our doors, helping us out. I made my way around the hood of the car and offered my arm to Ashlyn. No sooner had she laid her hand on my bicep and looked up to grin at me, the camera flashes went off all around us.

Her eyes grew wide, and she began to pull away.

I leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered. “It’s okay. They just want a few pictures of us. Keep your eyes on me. I know it can be disconcerting at first.”

Her gaze stayed glued to mine the whole walk to the front door. Once we entered, she released a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry. I should have expected it. I saw them when we drove up, but to be in the middle of all those lights and people calling out for us to smile ...” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s a little much.”

“How do you do it?”