Page 83 of Morally Black Betrothal

“It’s a surprise.” Honestly, I had no idea. But for some reason, I didn’t want to delegate the task to Ruth. “In the spirit of getting to know one another, why don’t we split the date? You pick the first place—anywhere at all that you’d like to show me—and I’ll do the same for a second destination.”

Simone seemed to consider the idea. “All right.”

She stood, envelope in hand, and I accompanied her to the door, which I opened for her, apparently still pretending to be a gentleman I definitely was not.

She turned back to me, that shy smile playing over her delicate features again. “I’ll, um, see you tonight, Brendan. And thank you. For listening.”

Before I could stop myself, I slipped a hand around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek, taking my time to inhale her sweet floral scent—yes, definitely lilacs, blended with freshly baked bread and a hint of butter.

It took everything I had not to pull her closer and kiss her like I really wanted.

Like I meant it.

Unfortunately, I never would.

“Tonight, angel,” I murmured, enjoying the way the skin just under her ear pebbled under my breath.

She shivered, but I knew she wasn’t cold.

“Tonight,” she repeated.

It couldn’t come soon enough.

19

IMAGINING ALMOST REAL

Simone

“Get it together,” I mumbled at my reflection in the mirror hanging over my closet door. “It’s like you’ve never swiped right before.”

Confusion spun through me as I stared into my closet.

Most of the dates I’d been offered in the last few years had consisted of little more than invitations to Netflix and chill. Maybe trivia night with a group, or, if the guy was really interested, a movie followed by a slice of pizza. All events perfectly served by my collection of thrifted garments and loungewear.

I pulled a vintage Laura Ashley dress out of the wardrobe and held it up to my body.

Nope. TooLittle House on the Prairie.

A purple corduroy skirt caught my eye.

Nope, tooBarney.

What the heck should a girl wear on a mystery date with her billionaire fake fiancé?

“When were you going to tell me?”

I was yanked out of my musing by my sister’s irritated voice. The door slammed shut behind Selena as she and Kylie entered the apartment.

I’d come home from Brendan’s office to a couple of suitcases in the kitchen and a note left on the counter informing me that Selena and Kylie had moved in and also that she had borrowed some of my clothes to look for a job. It meant that Kylie had spent yet another day at a pay-by-the-day daycare center, but I supposed it was better than watching TV all day long while her mom hotboxed my bathroom.

Kylie was carrying her backpack covered with Taylor Swift’s face, which she abandoned on the floor before racing to me for a big hug. Her residual milk mustache got onto the brown sweater dress I was currently contemplating.

I didn’t mind one bit as I dropped it onto the bed and swept her into my arms. “Hey, kiddo. I see you brought your stuff. Got everything for your stay here?”

“Yep. Mommy says we’re staying for a long time, but you won’t be here with us. Why can’t you be here with us?”

“Well, I have to go do another job for a while, but I’ll still visit as much as I can. Did you bring Unicorn Tim?”