The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella) novel Chapter 76

When Isabelle appeared from the bedroom, Jacob picked up the bouquet of flowers he had bought and presented them to her.

He had been quite straightforward with his selection–red roses.

“For you,” he said, holding the bouquet out to her.

She met his gaze before looking down at the flowers. ‘You didn’t–”

“Yes I did,” he interrupted her, knowing what she was going to say. “I wanted to. A man can get his beautiful wife flowers whenever he feels like, right?”

A shy smile graced her lips as she took the flowers. “Thank you.” She held them to her nose. “They are beautiful. And they smell great.”

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Like you.”

She chuckled. “You’re such a sweet talker.”

“It’s all true,” he said. Reaching into the gift bag, he produced the box of chocolates. “I hope you’ll like these too.”

Her eyes widened in delight at the sight of the box. “Oh, thank you!”

He noted somewhere in his brain that she was a fan of dark chocolate. Finally, he produced the wine. “Let’s have a drink together tonight,” he said.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “We have work tomorrow.”

He grinned, remembering the last time she had her way with a bottle of wine. “Just a glass,” he told her. “I’ll be your chaperone, since you tend to misbehave around a bottle of wine,” he teased.

“I wouldn’t on a work night,” she claimed.

He arched his brow. “If I recall correctly, you had work the next day.” He remembered well enough, actually. The next day had been Monday, and she had worn a high-necked dress to hide the hickeys he had given her.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “It was a Sunday. Still the weekend.”

“If you say so,” he humoured her.

“I’ll put these away,” she said, going back to her bedroom with the flowers and chocolates.

He followed her, but went into his own bedroom to change. Tonight, they would make dinner together.

***

Isabelle was surprised when Jacob showed up in the kitchen, sleeves rolled and ready for work.

“What are we making?” he asked, scanning the ingredients she had placed on the counter.

“You should rest and leave this to me,” she told him. “It isn’t much work.”

“I came home early to spend time with you,” he reminded her. His eyes shifted to the chicken on the counter. “I can chop some vegetables while you prepare the chicken.”

She knew better than to argue with him, so she let him join her.

They worked well together, and within an hour, they were setting the table. Everything was perfect, and she wished it could always be like this. But she knew it couldn’t.

She had already waited too long to tell him that there couldn’t be a repeat of last night. And she hadn’t exactly been discouraging him. When he had shown up earlier at her door and kissed her, she had accepted it like she had been waiting for it all day.

And then he gave her flowers and chocolates…

She was sure that he now considered them a real couple.

But how could they be a real couple when the very reason they were together was built on a lie?

She planned to tell him her thoughts after dinner. That way, she wouldn’t ruin such a beautiful dinner, and he would have the night to let it sink in. By morning, they should be back to their old lives.

When they were done with dinner, he brought out the wine he had bought and poured two glasses. He put the bottle away, as if getting rid of any temptation to drink more. She was secretly glad for that. With how nervous she was becoming by the minute, she didn’t trust herself to not seek liquid courage.

“We are a real couple now, right?” Jacob asked the moment she took a sip of the wine, and she almost choked on the drink.

It looked like she didn’t have to worry about how to broach the subject to him.

She placed her glass down on the table and stared at the tablecloth. Fidgeting with the stem of her glass, she said, “I can’t.”

“What?” His voice had an edge. “You can’t be in a real relationship with me?”

“I shouldn’t have slept with you–”

“Look at me, Isabelle,” he demanded.

She took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged and dropped her eyes again. “I just can’t.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, and then the sound of his chair scraping on the floor as he stood up filled the room. He came around the table to her side and took hold of her arm. She let go of her wine glass just in time as he pulled her to her feet. Holding both of her arms in his hands, he bent his head to look at her face. “You wanted what happened last night, and you enjoyed it.”