Free The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Crystal Kaswell Page A

have crazy, hot, we-just-got-engaged sex. There's something provocative about the promise of a lifelong commitment.
    Hell, I don't know. It's not like I've ever been in love.
    But I've seen love. It's sweet, beautiful, and not at all like this big, fat lie.
    A frown creeps onto my face. I wipe it away with my left hand. Damn, that is quite a rock. Tiffany's, probably. You get to know these things in a city obsessed with status.
    It must have cost a fortune.
    A drop in the bucket of Blake's fortune.
    He grabs onto my waist. A little possessive, sure, but that part is for show. It must be.
    The crowd parts for us again. It's parting for Blake, really. He has that effect on people. They bend to his will.
    He pushes the doors open. Cool air rushes inside. Then I'm outside and all the air is cool. Not terribly cold. It's early spring. We're due for rain and cherry blossoms.
    If we really were in love, we'd spend a long afternoon at the botanical gardens taking in the soft pink petals. We'd remark on the brevity of life, how lucky we are to have found each other. How lucky that it's the two of us against this crazy mixed up world.
    My chest is tight. It's hard to breath. Not asthma, I know. I did all those breathing tests a million times. No, this tension is purely emotional.
    I'm throwing away any chance I have to marry for love. I'm getting so much in exchange, but it still hurts. I can't believe how much it hurts. I've never thought of myself as a romantic.
    A journalist, or a paparazzi maybe, shoves a microphone into my face. "Did this come as a surprise?"
    My eyes go wide. I've never been shell-shocked before. I'm used to holding my own and responding calmly to anything, even people screaming in my face over something as trivial as their food having too much parsley.
    I force myself to smile. "I'm very happy."
    Another lie.
    "Excuse us." Blake pushes past the reporter. Then past another reporter.
    There are more flashes of cameras and camera phones. Don't people have enough manners to turn their damn flashes off? I lean closer to Blake, like I'm too shy for this. I am too shy for this, but the lie is getting all mixed up with the truth.
    We step into a limo. The door shuts behind us, blocking out the sounds—the questions, the cheers, the screams I can't make out.
    It's dark here. There are soft white lights but they're closer to decoration than to illumination. Thank goodness Blake has taste. This limo isn't some tacky thing with awful purple lighting. It's sleek, like everything else he owns.
    Like the ring.
    Like me, I guess, since I'm close enough to something he owns. A woman under contract. He doesn't strike me as the type who would think of his wife as his property, but you never really know. Rich people are awfully entitled. The men especially.
    I press my back against the seat. The leather sends a chill down my spine. It's awfully cool in here, too.
    "Kat."
    My attention returns. I turn to Blake. Talk about cool. I've got no clue what the look on his face means, but I'm certain he's not at all rattled.
    His plan went off perfectly. He has no reason to be rattled.
    "Kat."
    "What the hell was that?"
    He studies my expression. "You seemed to understand."
    "Okay, fine. I understand. You asked me to marry you and, for some reason, I said yes."
    He remains unblinking.
    "Why was it?" I tug at my gown. "We've only been fake dating for a week."
    "That isn't the story I've told."
    "Maybe you should explain it to me, ‘cause I'd like to keep things straight."
    "Kat."
    "Don't say my name like that. I'm not a child. I am perfectly capable of understanding things when they're explained to me."
    Blake moves closer to me until our thighs are pressed together. He leans into me. His breath is warm against my skin. All the little hairs on my neck stand up. A shiver runs straight down my spine.
    This a stretch limo, but it feels tiny. Like a single seat on the subway. There's nowhere to move except towards him.
    His lips brush against