Gregor paced the suite outside Kara’s room. Life since her arrival had felt like more of a whirlwind than usual, but he supposed it had to do with the fact that he was coordinating for two now. There was more to think about, more to plan: where she might eat, what she might like to do, whether or not she was comfortable in her role.

He didn’t for a second doubt his offer to her, but now that she’d taken him up on it, he realized there was more to it than he’d initially planned for. They had spent their first night together talking about their lives, what would be expected of her, how each stage of their “relationship” would progress. And really, the plan was more or less simple: she’d accompany him around Europe for the first half of the Formula One race tour, a full month, while attending events and telling the world they were a couple.

Somewhere along the line, Gregor would propose. She would accept. His family would be curious but receptive. Friends would fawn. Tabloids would dig up dirt, as they always did when he was involved. He warned Kara strongly about this. And they’d wed by the end of the year, remaining married until he and his brothers regained control of the company before they could divorce and move along with their lives.

Simply genius.

Gregor sighed, running a hand through his hair. Kara should have been ready by now. This was their first big formal night out, and he’d made sure she had plenty of wardrobe options. She’d been out twice with a personal shopper while he finished up the modifications to his car for the upcoming race. More than clothing, he made sure to provide whatever she could possibly need. Anything. If she wanted glacier-filtered water, he would find a way to procure it.

The money spent on her and this deal was the least of his worries. The favor she was doing him was worth any sum. Because Kara, though it might not appear it, was saving his life.

His life as he knew it, at least. The life that he had built for himself, with his brothers, painstakingly. Together, the three of them had struck out on their own path, divesting themselves of the family name and business only to develop a brand and identity entirely different from what their grandfather had expected. Using every last penny of their trust funds, they began B3 Motors as a way to follow what they truly loved and believed in…high-performance racing and technology.

Not the tech company that had been bogged down in red tape and bureaucracy that their grandfather had wanted to hand over to the three of them.

B3 was the most important thing in Gregor’s life, the only child he’d ever need. And if he and his brothers didn’t satisfy the conditions of his grandfather’s will, he could lose it all. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life: he didn’t want to lose his company or his freedom.

Though even a fake wife will inhibit your freedoms a bit.

The thought returned to him as he fidgeted, forced to wait for the literal embodiment of his new life. If he were going to the opera alone tonight, he might return with the phone number of a lovely lady or two. But tonight? You have a girlfriend now. Remember it.

The doorknob turned, and Gregor paused, straightening his back. Kara had the far bedroom in his penthouse suite where he always stayed in Barcelona. She poked her head out, her eye makeup smoky and meticulous.

“Ready?” He cocked a smile, though his heart began beating crazily fast. That sultry glance of hers was enough to send him to his knees.

“I think so.” She bit her perfectly plumped and red bottom lip, then pulled the door open all the way. A tight, floor-length gown showcased her curves, highlighting the salacious dip in her waist, the tantalizing roundness of her breasts. These were sides and angles of her that he hadn’t seen yet, hadn’t even been able to glimpse through her regular clothes. He blinked, unable to rip his gaze from her.

“Is this okay?” Her voice was timid, like maybe he’d waited too long to react.

“Jesus.” He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to meet hers and stop their careening path over her lush body. “Yes. You…wow. You look stunning.” Words clanked together in his brain. He had so many other words for her than these. And if she were a stranger at the opera house tonight, he would have beelined toward her in a heartbeat. “Wh—? Did your personal shopper pick this out?”

“We both did,” she said, tugging at the shimmery black fabric over her hips. “She said it would be perfect for the opera. I made sure.”

He blinked again, unable to look away from the fascinating arc of her ass as she exited the bedroom, pulling the door shut. He wetted his bottom lip, feeling his neck heat up. Unwittingly, he’d picked the most gorgeous woman in the world. The perfect leading lady for his con.

Except he desperately wanted to suspend the con and have an authentic night out with her.

“Excellent choice,” was all he could say without revealing the fierce buzz of desire inside him. It seemed somehow inappropriate to pin her against the wall here and now, when they’d so recently discussed the few romantic gestures that would be required of them. Holding hands in public, hugging, cheek kisses. Simple stuff that would appease the press. Nothing at all like the hip grinding and French kissing he was suddenly so keen on trying out.

Gregor led the way out of the penthouse, his legs wobbly and weak as they rode the elevator down. Kara fidgeted with her handbag while he soaked up the hint of her cleavage, the creamy lines of her arms.

“Are you nervous?” he asked when the doors slid open.

“Sort of, yeah. This is my first huge formal night out.” She laughed a little. “Outside of prom, that is.”

“Prom?” Gregor pressed his hand to the small of her back as they walked across the lobby, drawing stares. “Is that like the May Ball?”

She creased a brow. “What’s the May Ball?”

“I suspect the only equivalent we Brits have to your prom,” he said, grinning as they breezed through the main sliding doors. Their private car waited outside. Gregor held the car door open for her as she slid carefully into the back seat. “It’s a formal affair, gowns and all, held yearly in June.”

She snorted. “So why is it called the May Ball?”

“To confuse foreigners like you,” he stated wryly, easing into the seat next to her. They shared a smile, one that made him feel like they’d known each other for much longer than three days. The car eased into motion, and Gregor relaxed, slinging his arm over the back of the seat.

“I have some good news on the property front,” he said, watching as her sultry pout turned into a hopeful smile. “The owner has accepted my offer. He wants to enter into contract.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Very much so.” He rubbed his thumb against her shoulder, relishing the warmth of her skin. She was soft, almost too soft. Made him desperate to feel every square inch of her body. “Hopefully this part won’t take too long.”

“Oh my god.” Kara shook her head, smiling up at him. “I can’t believe it. I don’t care how long it takes! As long as nobody else has it, that’s all that matters.”

The trip to the opera house was quick. When they pulled up, people in fancy clothes milled about, jamming the sidewalks. Gregor peered out the window, feeling the familiar prickle of excitement. It was no accident he was responsible for managing the image of the company. Public appearances were a must, and he loved being public.

He pushed the door open and stepped out, sensing the whoosh of attention turn his way. He offered a hand to help Kara out of the car at the same time the murmurs began. It usually went like that: curiosity, speculation, and then adoration. Kara stepped out, and the sounds around him shrank to a whisper. Her shy grin, the blush in her cheek, the porcelain sheen of her skin contrasting with the black dress. Gregor stood watching her for a moment, her hand in his.

“Shouldn’t we go in?” She asked it quietly.

He blinked, jostling himself back to the present moment, and then slid his arm around her waist, cinching her to his side. “Absolutely.” They walked toward the Gran Teatre del Liceu, where the arched windows were lit up in shades of orange and yellow. Inside the opulent lobby, black and white checked floors stretched toward a red-carpeted staircase, flanked by Roman columns. Glittering chandeliers hung every few yards. And all along the lobby, people chatted in small clusters, outfitted in fine clothing and even finer accessories. Kara looked enchanted.

“Remember, we’re just here to have fun,” he said into her ear. “We’re making up the rules.”

She glanced up at him, cheeks still flushed. “So it’s okay if the first rule is getting a glass of wine?”

He squeezed her hip in response, mind clouding over momentarily. He wanted to squeeze a lot more of her like that. “Anything you like.”

They moved through the crowd slowly, more for Kara’s benefit as she acclimated to their surroundings. Gregor scoped out the patrons, recognizing more than a few of them from his jaunts around the world. The upper crust was a fairly closed world, and it wasn’t hard to see the same few people almost anywhere he went. Plenty of women watched him like a hawk as he moved through the lobby with Kara at his side, but he’d expected that. He almost never appeared at formal events with a woman on his arm. Gregor was keen on protecting his reputation as a lady’s man…until now.

“Gregor!” A sharp British voice cut through the clamor, and he looked up to see an old family friend heading his way, Ella Nesbitt, a forty-something with a particular fondness for the Beaumont family. She was their unofficial cheerleader.

“Ella. How are you?” They air-kissed a cheek, then Gregor gestured to Kara. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Kara.”

Ella’s eyes widened as she looked between him and Kara. “Girlfriend! I never thought I’d hear the word.” Ella smiled warmly at Kara and said to her, “I’m Ella, a longtime friend of the Beaumonts. I’ve known Gregor all his life.” To Gregor, she said, “I’ll be cheering for you Sunday! You ought to play it safe this time.”

“Of course, Ella. It was good to see you.” He waited until she wandered off before leaning in to whisper in Kara’s ear.

“There. First one down. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gregor let his hand slip down the curve of her hip, resting at the top of Kara’s ass. He relished the rosiness that crept into her neck.

“Easy enough, I suppose. Will there be many more here?”

“More than you can imagine,” he said with a sigh. “My social circle is unfathomably large.”

“Seems like you know people all over the world.”

“It is a veritable sea of acquaintances anywhere I go. It’s why I started the business in America. Had to get away from all this chit chat.” He grinned down at her.

She arched a brow. “Oh? I’ve been wondering how a fancy man like you ended up in Seattle.”

“Actually, no, that’s not the reason. Simply a childhood fascination with America mixed with a healthy respect for the tech scene in Seattle.”

Kara smiled wryly. “Fair enough. As for the acquaintances, let’s just take them one at a time.”

“Agreed.” The scent of her perfume wafted up to him, something floral and bright that stole his clarity for a moment. Kara was intoxicating, that much was certain. He gave her hip one last squeeze before clasping one of her hands between both of his. “Let’s go sit down. We’ll order some drinks once we get up there. You must see the theater.”

“Lead the way, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Buddy? You can’t call me ‘buddy.’”

Her laughter was light and tinkling. “Why not? You’re my buddy and my boyfriend. All great relationships are both, aren’t they?”

He bit back a grin, squeezing her hand. “Fine. That’s a free pass, for now.” He led her toward the carpeted staircase, weaving between people to get there. A few clapped him on the back as he passed, wishing him well in the upcoming race. As they climbed the stairs, Gregor’s phone buzzed with a new message. He fished it out with his free hand. It was Christian.

“What u think abt this one mate?” The message accompanied a picture of a simple diamond ring. Gregor squinted at the message, remembering that Christian had recently mentioned wanting to propose to his girlfriend.

“Excellent choice if u really must marry.” He shot it off with a smirk. Gregor’s stance was more than clear: why marry when you can be not married? He’d counseled Christian a bit on the matter, urging him to reconsider. Especially at the young age of twenty-three, it seemed a sin to give up so many unattached years of partying and girls.

But Christian didn’t quite agree. “You know she’s the one for me. I’m buying this right now.”

Gregor pocketed the phone, the interaction sticking with him as he led Kara to their private box in the balcony.

“Maybe I shouldn’t start the role as the nosy girlfriend, but…who was it?” Kara’s voice snapped him to attention.

He blinked, drawing a deep breath. “Why do you ask?”

“Whatever they said affected you.”

He creased a brow, pausing in front of the door leading to their box. “How could you tell?”

“Body language says much more than people realize,” she said. “You got tense. Your nostrils flared. You even scoffed.”

He swallowed hard. Something about the observation made him feel unsettled. But it intrigued him all the same. “You’ve really made a study of the human form.”

“It’s my job as an actress,” she said.

He tugged the door open, gesturing for her to enter the darkened box. A few steps down were two seats hugging a gilded rail and overlooking the grand scenery of the theater. On both sides of them were other, similar boxes, separated by partitions, many with eager, shining faces peering out. Below them, the seats were filling quickly. The entire opera house chattered with noise and conversation.

“Take a seat,” he said, leaning against the back of her chair as she sat down. He glanced down, noticing the fantastic view of her cleavage. He cleared his throat, ignoring the twitch in his pants, and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Now tell me what you want to drink so I can get you sauced and have my way with you.”

He hadn’t meant to say that; it had just tumbled out. But it was absolutely what he’d say if she were any regular woman he crossed paths with. She giggled, turning to look up at him.

“You like to move quickly. Will we be engaged tomorrow? Pregnant by next Friday?”

He squeezed her shoulder, desperate for the contact. Truth was she made his head spin, and he didn’t know how else to handle the pressure building inside of him.

“Perhaps. Though I could be convinced to move the pregnancy bit to next Tuesday if that better suits your schedule.”

“It was my understanding that birth control was written into our agreement.” She winked, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if they were acting or not. He hadn’t been. But maybe she was. Except…they had no audience. It was only them.

“Tell me. What will it be, m’lady?”

“Red wine. Dry.” She sent him a sultry look, then turned back to face the crowd. Gregor clenched his jaw, looking her over one more time before heading toward the small bar on the upper level.

He’d chosen well. That much was certain.

But perhaps this arrangement would be a bit more confusing than he’d bargained for.