She Grabbed a Stranger and Whispered, “Act Like My Boyfriend”—Then His Bodyguards Gasped, “Boss?!”
She Grabbed a Stranger and Whispered, “Act Like My Boyfriend”—Then His Bodyguards Gasped, “Boss?!”
She Grabbed a Stranger and Whispered, “Act Like My Boyfriend”—Then His Bodyguards Gasped, “Boss?!”
By the time Natalie Parker realized the stranger whose face she was holding was Enzo Romano, it was already far too late to behave like a woman with functioning judgment.
Both of her hands were on his cheeks.
Not 1.
Both.
Her fingers rested against the sharp line of his jaw. Her thumbs were dangerously close to his mouth, and she stood so near that the front of her burgundy gown almost brushed his dark shirt.
Unfortunately, that was not even the worst part.
The worst part was what she had just whispered.
“Act like my boyfriend.”
The stranger stared down at her.
No smile.
No confusion.
No immediate refusal.
Only a long, silent stare.
Natalie swallowed.
Perhaps she should have chosen someone friendlier.
Someone shorter.
Someone whose face did not suggest he had personally fired several emotions for poor performance.
Behind him, 3 large men in black suits had stopped moving.
1 held a glass halfway to his mouth.
Another looked as if he had forgotten how blinking worked.
The 3rd slowly turned toward the man Natalie was holding.
“Boss.”
Natalie heard him.
She simply had a more immediate problem.
Approximately 20 ft behind her, Julian Cross was approaching with Camille Lauron.
Camille was tall, blonde, elegant, and wearing a gold gown.
She was also the woman Julian had begun publicly dating almost immediately after spending 6 months telling Natalie he was not ready for commitment.
Apparently, commitment had simply required a smaller dress size and European cheekbones.
Natalie’s jaw tightened.
Absolutely not.
She had spent 6 weeks planning this gala.
6 weeks coordinating florists, caterers, security, entertainment, seating charts, wealthy guests with allergies they remembered only after the menu had been finalized, and 1 donor who had demanded that his table be moved because the chandelier above it gave him financially negative energy.
Natalie Parker had survived all of that.
She was not going to spend the evening explaining her relationship status to Julian Cross.
She tightened her hands slightly around the stranger’s face.
His eyebrows lowered.
“Please.”
Still nothing.
Natalie glanced over her shoulder.
Julian was getting closer.
Perhaps 10 seconds away.
She looked back at the stranger.
He really was unfairly handsome.
Dark, wavy hair.
A strong jaw beneath her hands.
Broad shoulders stretching a deep brown shirt.
An expensive watch.
Tall enough that Natalie had to tilt her chin sharply upward to hold his gaze.
He looked like the sort of man expensive furniture was designed around.
Perfect.
All he needed to do was stand there and look romantic.
How difficult could that be?
Natalie leaned closer.
“Look obsessed with me.”
Behind him, someone choked.
Actually choked.
A violent cough came from the man holding the drink.
Another bodyguard slapped his back.
The stranger’s eyes briefly moved toward them before returning to Natalie.
She smiled through clenched teeth.
“You can do that, right?”
His voice finally came.
Low.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
“You want me to look obsessed?”
“Yes.”
“With you.”
Natalie blinked.
“Well, preferably not with the floral arrangement.”
His eyes moved toward the enormous white roses beside them.
Then back to her.
Natalie saw the smallest movement at the corner of his mouth.
Not quite a smile.
Almost.
“Good. That.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“That almost-smile.”
Behind him, the man who had choked made another strangled sound.
Natalie lifted 1 finger toward the stranger’s mouth while still holding the other side of his face.
“Do that again when he gets here.”
The stranger stared at her finger.
Then at her.
Natalie suddenly understood that she was giving facial-expression instructions to a grown man she had known for approximately 14 seconds.
Bold.
Unfortunately, Julian was almost beside them.
There was no retreat left.
Natalie’s pride had already boarded the train.
She was going with it.
“Please.”
Her voice dropped.
“30 seconds. That’s all I need.”
Something changed in the stranger’s expression.
Curiosity, perhaps.
Or amusement.
Or maybe he had simply decided his evening needed entertainment.
Whatever the reason, his hand moved slowly and settled around Natalie’s waist.
Her entire brain stopped.
She had asked him to participate.
She had not expected him to be good at it.
His palm rested firmly against the curve of her waist.
Not inappropriate.
Not hesitant.
Simply confident enough that Natalie became instantly aware of exactly where his hand was.
She looked up.
The stranger looked down.
Somehow, he now seemed amused.
Natalie narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t get carried away.”
“You approached me.”
“Yes.”
“You grabbed my face.”
“Yes.”
“You told me to look obsessed.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m getting carried away.”
Natalie opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Annoying.
He had logic.
She disliked logic in emergency boyfriends.
Then Julian arrived.
“Natalie.”
There it was.
That voice.
Slightly surprised.
Slightly concerned.
Slightly patronizing.
Natalie remembered it far too well.
She turned and smiled so brightly that her cheeks nearly protested.
Julian stood beside Camille.
Beautiful.
Polished.
Smiling politely.
Natalie genuinely had nothing against her.
That was inconvenient.
Hating innocent people would have been easier.
Julian’s eyes moved toward the stranger beside Natalie.
Then to the hand around her waist.
Then back to her.
Something shifted in his expression.
Good.
The plan was working.
“This is unexpected,” Julian said.
Natalie smiled wider.
“Life is full of miracles.”
The stranger’s fingers moved slightly against her waist.
Natalie refused to look.
Julian glanced between them.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Right.
Introductions.
Important social convention.
Natalie turned toward her emergency boyfriend.
She knew absolutely nothing about him.
Nothing.
Not his name.
Not his occupation.
Not whether he had children.
Not whether the men behind him were friends, employees, or an unusually formal book club.
Excellent.
She had selected a boyfriend without checking the specifications.
Julian waited.
Natalie’s smile began to hurt.
“This is…”
She looked at the stranger.
He looked back.
Help.
Please help.
His eyes told her he understood exactly what was happening.
Worse, he was enjoying it.
Natalie narrowed hers.
If he allowed her to die here, she would haunt him professionally.
Finally, the stranger offered Julian his hand.
“Enzo.”
Natalie nearly sagged with relief.
Enzo.
Simple.
Handsome.
Believable.
Julian shook his hand.
“Julian Cross.”
“I know.”
Julian paused.
Natalie did too.
Interesting.
Julian smiled cautiously.
“And how exactly do you know Natalie?”
Natalie’s mind started searching for lies.
A gym.
No.
She had not voluntarily entered 1 since a membership office tried charging her a cancellation fee.
Coffee shop.
Too ordinary.
Mutual friend.
Dangerous.
Julian knew most of them.
Church.
Completely unbelievable after the amount of profanity Natalie had used while organizing the gala.
Then Enzo answered.
“We’re together.”
Natalie slowly turned her head.
Yes.
Technically, that had been the assignment.
But Enzo said it with such calm certainty that for half a second Natalie wondered if they had somehow been dating without her knowledge.
Julian’s eyebrows rose.
“Together?”
Enzo looked down at Natalie.
Then he gave her exactly the expression she had requested.
Warm enough to be intimate.
Possessive enough to convince.
Controlled enough to make her stomach do something deeply unprofessional.
Natalie forgot how breathing worked.
“For a while.”
Her eyes widened.
Nobody had approved mythology.
Julian looked at her.
“You never mentioned him.”
Natalie laughed too loudly.
“I’m private now.”
Enzo’s thumb moved once against her waist.
Natalie knew he was laughing internally.
She could feel it.
Julian glanced toward Camille.
Then back.
“How long is a while?”
Natalie opened her mouth.
Enzo answered first.
“Long enough.”
Natalie stared at him.
Apparently, the man specialized in uselessly confident answers.
Julian smiled thinly.
“You always hated mysterious men.”
Before Natalie could reply, Enzo looked at Julian.
“She hates champagne too.”
Natalie froze.
Julian blinked.
Enzo continued calmly.
“Unless someone puts strawberries in it. She thinks that improves something already disappointing.”
Natalie’s mouth opened.
How?
Enzo looked toward the bar.
“She prefers sparkling water with lime.”
Her eyes widened further.
Then he nodded toward the ballroom doors.
“She also checks the west entrance every 4 minutes because the floral vendor arrived late and she doesn’t trust him to leave on schedule.”
Natalie stared.
Julian stared.
Even Camille looked impressed.
Enzo’s gaze returned to Natalie.
“And she hasn’t eaten dinner because she has been working since 3:00.”
Natalie’s mouth closed.
That was specific.
Far too specific.
Julian’s expression shifted.
Those were not generic boyfriend details.
Enzo had noticed her.
In 1 evening, from across a ballroom, this complete stranger had apparently paid more attention to Natalie than Julian had during the final 6 months of their relationship.
The realization was unexpectedly satisfying.
And unexpectedly dangerous.
Her fake plan had suddenly become too convincing.
Natalie looked up at Enzo.
He gave her the faintest lift of 1 eyebrow.
You are welcome.
Arrogant man.
Julian cleared his throat.
“Well…”
His eyes dropped toward Enzo’s arm.
Then back to Natalie.
“You seem happy.”
There it was.
The phrase Natalie had dreaded.
Except it did not hurt.
Mostly because Enzo was still holding her.
Also because Julian looked considerably less confident than he had expected to.
Natalie smiled.
“I am.”
For once, the words felt true.
Not because of Enzo.
Obviously.
She had known him for approximately 1 cocktail garnish.
But because she finally understood something.
She did not want Julian back.
Not even slightly.
She only hated the version of herself he had made her feel like.
Too much.
Too loud.
Too curvy.
Too opinionated.
Too difficult to fit into the polished little future he had wanted.
And now she was standing in a burgundy gown she loved, running an event filled with people who trusted her professionally, while an outrageously handsome stranger looked at her as if Julian’s opinion was not worth the decorative toothpick in an olive.
Wonderful.
Camille complimented Natalie’s event.
Natalie thanked her sincerely.
Julian looked vaguely disappointed that no emotional collapse had occurred.
Then 1 of his acquaintances called his name.
He excused himself.
Camille followed.
Julian glanced back once.
Enzo did not remove his hand.
Julian stopped looking.
Natalie waited.
5 seconds.
Then she exhaled so hard her entire body relaxed.
She removed both hands from Enzo’s face and gently pushed against his chest.
“Okay.”
He looked down.
“Okay. Performance over.”
Nothing.
Natalie smiled.
“You did very well.”
Still nothing.
She patted his chest.
“Excellent work.”
1 of the men behind him made a strange sound.
Natalie glanced over.
They were all staring.
Why were they still staring?
She looked back at Enzo.
His hand remained around her waist.
Natalie looked down at it.
Then up.
“You can let go now.”
He did not.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Enzo.”
Interesting how quickly she had become comfortable using his name.
His expression remained calm.
Too calm.
“30 seconds.”
“Yes.”
“That was your agreement.”
“Yes.”
“You used approximately 90.”
Natalie stared.
“Are you billing me?”
For the first time, the man behind Enzo actually laughed.
A short burst.
He immediately turned it into a cough when Enzo glanced back.
Natalie smiled.
“You have funny friends.”
No one answered.
Enzo looked at her.
“They’re not my friends.”
The man who had laughed looked personally offended.
Natalie glanced back at them.
“Employees?”
“Yes.”
“Security?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Natalie nodded.
That made sense.
Enzo had expensive-man energy.
Perhaps a CEO.
Celebrity.
Political donor.
Something irritatingly important.
She looked toward the nearest guard.
“So when you said ‘boss’ earlier…”
3 men became very still.
Natalie pointed between them.
“You meant him?”
Silence.
Enzo’s gaze remained on her.
Natalie slowly turned back.
“Why did that sound ominous?”
Before anyone answered, Marco Bellini approached.
He was unsuccessfully fighting amusement.
“Boss.”
Natalie looked at Enzo.
Then Marco.
Then Enzo again.
“Everybody calls you that.”
“Enough people.”
Suspiciously unhelpful.
Natalie crossed her arms.
Or tried to.
Enzo’s hand was still at her waist.
She looked down.
He finally released her.
Natalie immediately noticed the absence.
Ridiculous.
Good.
Space.
Professionalism.
Reality.
She stepped away.
“Thank you for rescuing my dignity.”
Enzo’s eyes moved briefly toward where Julian had disappeared.
“You didn’t need rescuing.”
Natalie stopped.
There was no flirtation in the sentence.
Only observation.
Something warm flickered inside her.
She buried it immediately.
“Fine. Thank you for assisting with my petty emotional emergency.”
“More accurate.”
She turned toward Marco.
“Please tell your boss he’s very convincing.”
Marco’s expression became extraordinary.
Enzo looked at him.
Marco looked at Natalie.
Then at Enzo.
“Oh, I don’t think convincing is going to be the problem.”
Natalie frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Enzo said.
Then:
“Marco.”
Only once.
Marco immediately found the ceiling interesting.
Natalie narrowed her eyes.
These men were strange.
She reached toward the all-access credential hanging around her neck.
Work.
The event.
Her actual responsibilities.
She had lost 11 minutes of her schedule because she had temporarily lost her mind over an ex-boyfriend.
Time to return to sanity.
Natalie looked at Enzo again.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
She stepped backward.
Then remembered something.
She pointed at him.
“If Julian comes back, we’re still together.”
Enzo’s eyebrow lifted.
“Are we?”
“Until he leaves.”
“How romantic.”
“Don’t become difficult.”
Marco turned away again.
Natalie noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She shook her head and hurried back toward the ballroom.
Behind her, Marco remained silent for exactly 4 seconds.
Then he looked at Enzo.
“Look obsessed with me.”
Enzo slowly turned his head.
Marco’s smile disappeared.
Almost.
“I heard nothing.”
“You repeated it.”
“Memory failure.”
Enzo stared.
Marco looked toward Natalie, disappearing between guests.
Then back at him.
“I’ve known you 15 years.”
Enzo said nothing.
“In 15 years, I’ve watched men ask permission to sit in chairs you weren’t using.”
Still nothing.
“She grabbed your face.”
Enzo’s gaze returned to Natalie.
Marco noticed.
“Interesting.”
“And you’re smiling.”
Enzo looked at him.
“I’m not.”
“You are internally.”
“That isn’t visible.”
“It is to me.”
Enzo’s expression promised consequences.
Marco stopped.
Temporarily.
Then Enzo’s attention shifted toward Natalie’s back.
More specifically, toward the black-and-gold access card hanging from her neck.
Event Management Level 4.
His eyes narrowed.
Marco saw the change immediately.
“What?”
Enzo did not answer.
1 of his security men approached from the service corridor.
His expression was no longer amused.
“Boss.”
The tone changed everything.
Enzo turned.
The guard leaned closer.
“We have a problem.”
Marco straightened.
“What?”
“Someone just used a Level 4 event credential at the west service door.”
Enzo’s gaze moved toward Natalie.
Her badge was still around her neck.
Marco followed his stare.
“Copied?”
“Looks like it.”
The humor disappeared.
Enzo’s private meeting suite was located behind that corridor.
Only staff with elevated access could reach it.
Natalie’s credential was 1 of those passes.
That meant someone had copied her access.
Or someone wanted it to look as if Natalie had entered the corridor.
Enzo’s expression hardened.
Marco looked across the ballroom.
Natalie was speaking with a caterer, completely unaware, laughing and holding a clipboard.
Probably arguing about napkins.
“Think she knows anything?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
Enzo looked at him.
Marco raised 1 hand.
“Fair. Too early. No assumptions.”
Then another guard approached.
“We also lost Carlos’s courier.”
That was different.
Enzo’s jaw tightened.
He had come to the gala for 1 reason.
Not champagne.
Not donors.
Certainly not because he expected a curvy event coordinator to grab his face and request emergency romance.
For 3 months, someone inside the Romano organization had been leaking private shipping schedules.
Not enough to destroy the operation.
Only enough to make certain rivals appear unusually lucky.
That evening, Enzo expected the traitor’s courier to make contact.
His people had tracked 1 possible intermediary into the gala.
Now that man had disappeared through a service corridor using Natalie’s credential.
Marco looked toward her again.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Enzo did not respond.
Natalie had just become part of something she did not understand.
And if the person who copied her badge had seen her standing intimately beside Enzo Romano, they might assume she had given him information.
Or that Enzo had given her something.
Either possibility put her in danger.
Natalie was halfway through explaining to a waiter that table 17 needed 3 vegetarian meals, not 7, when a shadow fell across her clipboard.
She looked up.
Enzo.
Again.
He had appeared without making a sound.
That should have been illegal for a man his size.
Natalie blinked.
“Julian isn’t here.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you following me?”
“I’m not.”
She looked behind him.
3 security men.
Marco.
All watching.
Natalie looked back.
“You travel in packs.”
Enzo ignored that.
“Where has your badge been tonight?”
Natalie glanced downward.
“On me all night.”
“Did anyone borrow it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone photograph it?”
Natalie frowned.
“What kind of questions are these?”
“Answer.”
There it was.
The voice that made the men around him straighten.
Natalie’s eyebrows rose.
Interesting.
The stranger had become bossy.
She leaned slightly closer.
“You were much nicer when you were my boyfriend.”
Marco turned his head.
1 guard looked down.
Enzo’s eyes narrowed.
Natalie smiled sweetly.
“What?”
He appeared to consider several responses.
He chose none.
“Your credential was used 10 minutes ago.”
Natalie’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“At the west service entrance.”
She looked down at the pass around her neck.
“Impossible. I’ve had it all night.”
“I know.”
Natalie looked up sharply.
How did he know?
Then she remembered his security.
Of course.
Someone could have copied it.
Her event-planning instincts took over.
No panic.
Details.
She checked the time.
Asked which door.
Which reader.
Exact minute.
Marco answered.
“9:17. West service corridor.”
Natalie frowned.
“That door shouldn’t even be active.”
Enzo’s expression sharpened.
“Why?”
“The fire inspection flagged the hinge this morning.”
Marco looked at the guard.
The guard looked confused.
Natalie continued.
“I had venue management disable badge access until maintenance signs off tomorrow.”
Enzo stared at her.
“So how was it opened?”
“Good question.”
Natalie turned and started walking.
Enzo caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Enough to stop her.
She looked at his hand.
Then at him.
“What?”
“You’re not going there.”
Natalie stared.
“This is my event.”
“There may be someone inside that corridor.”
“Yes. That’s usually why a person investigates.”
Marco’s mouth twitched.
Enzo did not.
“I’ll investigate.”
“You don’t know the building.”
“I know enough.”
“You didn’t know the west door was disabled.”
Silence.
Natalie smiled.
Point for her.
Enzo looked toward Marco.
Marco was suddenly fascinated by the ballroom.
Natalie continued.
“There are 6 service exits, 2 freight elevators, 3 storage passages, and 1 ridiculous linen closet that connects to Ballroom C because somebody redesigned this building while drunk.”
Enzo listened.
“Your men won’t know which one matters.”
He could not argue with that.
Natalie noticed.
Exactly.
Enzo looked down at her.
Natalie looked up.
Several seconds passed.
Neither moved.
Then Enzo exhaled.
“Stay beside me.”
She blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Beside me.”
Natalie’s eyebrows climbed.
“You became very commanding after the fake relationship.”
His eyes held hers.
“You wanted convincing.”
“That doesn’t include kidnapping my schedule.”
“No kidnapping.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Yet.”
Natalie stared.
Marco choked again.
She pointed toward Enzo.
“That was almost funny.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You’re learning.”
“I wasn’t trying.”
“Even better.”
Then Natalie started toward the service corridor.
Enzo followed.
His men followed him.
Natalie looked over her shoulder at the formation.
Ridiculous.
She had started the evening with a clipboard.
Now she appeared to have acquired a private military unit.
They crossed behind the ballroom.
Guests barely noticed.
Natalie pushed through a staff door.
The sound of the gala disappeared behind them.
White walls.
Muted lighting.
Stacks of folded linens.
No guests.
Natalie’s heels clicked quickly along the floor.
Enzo remained beside her.
His men spread out behind them.
The contrast should have been funny.
A curvy event coordinator in a burgundy gown leading 5 intimidating men through a service corridor while muttering about catering crates.
Then Natalie stopped.
Enzo nearly walked into her.
She raised 1 hand.
“Wait.”
Everyone froze.
Enzo looked at her.
Natalie pointed.
A floral cart stood near the end of the corridor.
White roses.
Greenery.
Gold ribbon.
Nothing remarkable.
Except—
“That cart doesn’t belong here.”
Marco frowned.
“It’s flowers.”
Natalie looked offended.
“I know it’s flowers.”
She moved closer.
Enzo caught her elbow.
“Stay.”
She ignored him just enough to lean forward.
“The West Ballroom arrangements use white roses and eucalyptus.”
Marco looked toward the cart.
“These are white roses.”
“No eucalyptus.”
Silence.
Natalie pointed.
“And the ribbons are gold.”
“So?”
“Our floral team uses champagne.”
Marco stared.
Natalie stared back.
“Yes. There’s a difference.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Enzo almost smiled.
Natalie saw it.
“There.”
He immediately stopped.
“We’re working.”
“You smiled.”
“No.”
“Your face has witnesses.”
Marco nodded before thinking.
Enzo looked at him.
Marco reconsidered loyalty.
Natalie crouched slightly beside the cart.
A tray sat beneath it.
1 black catering jacket.
Wrong.
Flower carts did not carry catering uniforms.
Natalie looked toward Enzo.
His amusement disappeared.
A sound came from farther down the corridor.
Metal.
Something closing.
Enzo moved immediately.
1 arm crossed Natalie’s waist and pulled her behind him.
The movement happened so quickly she barely understood it.
His bodyguards moved ahead.
Natalie found herself staring at Enzo’s back.
Broad.
Still.
Protective.
This felt completely different from the ballroom.
No performance.
No jealous ex.
No fake relationship.
Something was genuinely wrong.
Her pulse changed.
A man appeared briefly near the service exit.
Then ran.
Enzo’s men chased him.
Marco stayed.
Natalie instinctively stepped forward.
Enzo blocked her.
“Stay.”
She looked around his shoulder.
“I need to see who—”
“No.”
“Enzo.”
“Natalie.”
It was the first time he had said her name like that.
Low.
Firm.
It did something irritating to her stomach.
Wrong moment.
She glared upward.
“You don’t get to use my name like punctuation.”
Marco turned away.
Enzo looked down at her for 1 absurd second in the middle of the security problem.
He almost looked amused.
Then 1 guard returned.
“The man escaped through the loading dock.”
He held out something small.
“But he dropped this.”
A black drive.
Enzo took it.
Natalie stared.
“What is that?”
No answer.
She looked between them.
Suddenly, her emergency fake boyfriend seemed considerably less like a random wealthy stranger.
The black suits.
The security.
The immediate obedience.
The men calling him boss.
The way the atmosphere changed when danger appeared.
Natalie’s expression changed.
“Okay.”
Enzo looked at her.
“Okay what?”
She pointed at him.
“Who are you?”
Marco pressed his lips together.
Enzo studied Natalie.
She could see him deciding how much truth to give her.
That irritated her immediately.
“No.”
His eyebrow moved.
“No what?”
“No mysterious silence.”
Natalie put both hands on her hips.
“You don’t get to do the dramatic stare after I was almost blamed for somebody entering a restricted corridor.”
Enzo said nothing.
“Name?”
“You know it.”
“Full name.”
Silence.
Marco looked toward the floor.
Natalie slowly turned toward him.
“You.”
Marco looked innocent.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
She pointed toward Enzo.
“Why is everyone behaving like he owns oxygen?”
Marco came dangerously close to laughing.
Enzo’s eyes narrowed.
Marco surrendered.
“Enzo Romano.”
Natalie waited.
Then the name connected.
Her expression went blank.
Romano.
Romano Hotels.
Romano Shipping.
Romano Restaurants.
Romano Properties.
The Romano family.
And the other stories.
The ones people repeated quietly.
The ones newspapers never printed directly.
The name that appeared whenever journalists used phrases like alleged connections and powerful organization.
Natalie’s gaze moved from Marco to the bodyguards.
Then to Enzo.
The man whose face she had grabbed.
The man she had ordered to look obsessed with her.
The man she had told to smile better.
The man she had accused of getting carried away with fake dating.
Her lips parted.
“Oh.”
Marco looked delighted again.
Enzo crossed his arms.
Natalie took 1 small step backward.
Then another.
“You’re that Enzo Romano.”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
She nodded.
“Excellent.”
A pause.
“Fantastic.”
Another pause.
“I need a drink.”
Enzo’s eyes moved toward her.
“You don’t drink champagne.”
Natalie stopped.
That small callback.
That ridiculous fact he had noticed earlier should not have made her want to smile.
It did.
She pointed at him.
“This is not the time to be observant.”
Marco laughed outright.
Natalie looked at him.
“You knew he was Enzo Romano?”
“Yes.”
Marco glanced toward Enzo.
“I had suspicions.”
Natalie stared.
Then rubbed both hands over her face.
Those same hands.
She froze.
Slowly lowered them.
Looked at Enzo.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I squeezed your cheeks.”
Marco coughed.
Enzo’s eyes narrowed.
Natalie became horrified all over again.
“In public.”
“Yes.”
“Twice.”
“Yes.”
“And told you to look obsessed with me.”
“Yes.”
Behind Enzo, 1 bodyguard suddenly found the wall fascinating.
Natalie closed her eyes.
“Can your organization erase memories?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
She turned and started walking.
Enzo caught her hand.
Natalie looked back.
The humor had disappeared from his expression.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my event.”
“No.”
There it was.
Boss voice.
Natalie pointed at his chest now.
Not his face.
Progress.
“My entire livelihood is in that ballroom.”
“And whoever copied your credential may believe you’re working with me.”
Natalie stopped.
That was not funny.
Enzo continued.
“If the man who ran saw us together earlier, he may think I gave you something.”
“Yes.”
“Or you gave me something.”
“Yes.”
Natalie looked toward the ballroom doors.
Suddenly, Julian felt like a problem from another life.
She looked back.
“So what now?”
Enzo answered without hesitation.
“You stay close to me.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes.
“How close?”
Marco already turned away.
Enzo looked at her.
Natalie could almost see the response he wanted to give.
She pointed.
“Behave.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You grabbed me.”
“We have established that.”
“You wanted a boyfriend.”
“For 30 seconds.”
Enzo checked his watch.
“That deadline passed.”
Natalie stared.
Marco lost the battle with laughter.
And somehow, standing in a service corridor with a copied credential, a mysterious drive, a vanished stranger, and several armed men, Natalie began laughing too.
Apparently, panic had reached maximum capacity and converted itself into comedy.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“I grabbed a stranger.”
“Yes.”
“Pretended he was my boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
“And accidentally chose a mafia boss.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Natalie looked toward the ceiling.
“Of course I did.”
Enzo’s mouth finally curved.
A real smile.
Small.
Controlled.
But real.
Natalie’s eyes widened.
“There.”
His smile disappeared.
She pointed.
“That’s the smile I wanted earlier.”
Marco made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan.
Natalie looked triumphant.
“You can do it.”
Enzo stared at her.
“You’re in danger.”
“I know.”
“And you’re critiquing my smile.”
“Both things can be true.”
Something changed in Enzo’s eyes.
Interest.
Real interest.
Not only amusement anymore.
Natalie felt it.
And for the first time that evening, she became nervous for a reason that had nothing to do with Julian, copied credentials, or strangers disappearing through service corridors.
Enzo Romano was looking at her exactly the way she had told him to.
Not obsessed.
Not yet.
But curious.
Absolutely.
Natalie Parker had no idea those ridiculous 30 seconds near the bar had already changed the direction of her life.
She had grabbed a stranger because she needed a fake boyfriend.
She had chosen him because he looked handsome, available, and inconveniently large.
What she did not know was that Enzo Romano had entered the gala looking for a traitor.
Someone had already copied Natalie’s access credential.
The man who escaped the service corridor had seen her standing in Enzo’s arms.
Before the night ended, Enzo’s enemies would begin asking the same question Natalie had asked only minutes earlier.
Who exactly was Natalie Parker to Enzo Romano?
The answer should have been simple.
Nobody.
A stranger.
A curvy event coordinator with terrible timing.
A woman he had known for less than an hour.
But as Enzo looked down at her while Natalie continued informing 1 of the city’s most dangerous men that his smile needed improvement, 1 problem became obvious.
May you like
30 seconds had already passed.
Enzo Romano was not ready to let his fake girlfriend go.
Disclaimer: This story is fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any names, characters, places, or events are fictitious or used fictitiously. No real person or organization is intended to be portrayed.
