Page 63 of The Boss I Can't Stand

“Ugh, please don’t,” I complained, unsure whether I was amused or horrified at the thought of having to see myself on the apartment wall every morning over breakfast.

I turned to look at Lord Meowington, who’d parked himself on the stool next to me. Somehow, this felt like progress even if he waswearing another one of those damn sweaters. “How do we feel about that?” The cat’s ears flicked back before he let out a scratchy meow.Horrified,I decided.Definitely horrified.

It was strange. Finn and I weren’t really faking itallanymore. At least, not as far as sleeping together—and we were having a dang good time doing that. But the more public aspects of the PR relationship, having to put on a performance, felt even more uncomfortable now that I’d seen yet another side of Finn.

The person he was for the world and the person he was with me were two completely different individuals, and it could be jarring, having a real relationship when we were alone and having a flawlessly fake relationship when we were in public.

I didn’t know how to be Mrs. Bigshot and caught myself overthinking my actions on more than one occasion. Was my smile wide enough? Was I looking at him like a fiancée in love? Would this make a viral photo? Would people watch our movie because they’d bought into our love story?

“We should definitely send a copy to your mother,” Ro said, cutting through my worries.

“Lord,” I said, stressing about that. “I haven’t even told her yet.”

“You might want to consider it before she and Larry find the magazine rack at Kroger.”

I put that on my mental to-do list for later. Maybe. With any luck, she wouldn’t see the photo anywhere, and I wouldn’t have to try to explain this complicated fake-turned-somewhat-real relationship.

The lock clicked on the front door.

“Gotta go,” I said to Ro.

“Call me later. Tell Finn I want him to sign my copy ofUS Weekly!”

“I will be doing no such thing,” I said, rolling my eyes as Finn walked into the kitchen, standing on the other side of the counter. He flashed me a devilish grin, clearly having heard Ro’s last comment.

“I’d be happy to,” he said, then leaned across the counter to end the call.

“Don’t encourage her,” I said. “She’s going to blow the cover up and have it framed and leave it in your office at the studio. Is that what you want?”

He walked around the island, all swagger. “I like to give my adoring fans what they want.”

“Your fans?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, towering over me in a way that made my heart race. “We have a loyal and dedicated fanbase. Did you know they’re calling us Fierra?”

“We have a couple’s name?” Oh brother. “Please don’t tell Ro that.”

He laughed, low and husky. “But I’myournumber-one fan.” His gaze drifted over my face, to my lips, igniting a full-body shiver. He could stir a fire in my belly without even touching me, just with that stare…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

He curled his finger under my chin, tilting my head up like he meant to kiss me. “I plan to undress you with more than just my eyes.”

My heart picked up speed, galloping away on a surge of needy adrenaline, my skin already itching for his touch.

“But later,” he said, flooding me with disappointment. “Right now, we have to go.”

“Where?” I asked, my eyebrows knitting together. We had another one of Jillian’s bait-the-paparazzi lunches this afternoon, but that wasn’t for a few hours still.

The corner of his mouth curled. “It’s a surprise.”

Twenty minutes later, we’d pulled up outside the Hollywood Museum on Hollywood Boulevard. The Mac Factor Building had large windows and a bold, retro-style marquee that reminded me of the golden age of Hollywood. I loved it.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as Finn opened my door and offered me his hand.