90 Day Fake Fiancé: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance by Roxy Reid

90 Day Fake Fiancé: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance by Roxy Reid

Author:Roxy Reid [Reid, Roxy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-22T16:00:00+00:00


An hour later we pull off our helmets in a forested park area. The signs say we’re at Victoria Peak. I’m not entirely sure we’re allowed to park our motorcycle here, but Carter doesn’t give it a second thought. He takes my hand and pulls me to a paved trail that winds along the edge of a steep cliff.

“Oh Carter,” I say, as we look out over the whole city. Everything around us is green and peaceful, while down below a brilliant thicket of skyscrapers shoot upward.

“Thought you’d like that,” he says smugly.

“Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Hong Kong, yes. The Peak, no.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him as we take in the view. “It was a work trip.”

“Isn’t this a work trip?” I tease.

“Yeah, but you’re here,” Carter says simply. My heart does a dangerous flip.

On impulse, I rise on my toes and kiss him. He grins against my mouth, cradling my face as he kisses me back, soft and leisurely, like there’s no one else here.

It’s almost enough to block out the group of German tourists whispering near us. When I break the kiss, I notice them pointing in our direction. I follow their gaze, expecting to see some celebrity, or maybe another miraculous view. But there’s nothing behind us.

Then I realize. They’re pointing at us.

Our PDA wasn’t that bad.

Carter’s oblivious, his entire focus on me. When one of the German tourists approaches and taps Carter on the shoulder, his entire body flinches, and he shoves me behind him on instinct.

He glares at the shoulder tapper. “What?”

The shoulder tapper is a shy guy with big ears and a bigger camera who stumbles over the English words. “Excuse me. Mr. Carter Black? I am a big fan. May I have a picture?”

For a second Carter holds perfectly still. And then his whole body shifts, relaxing into that cocky-playboy mode that reminds me of a coiled snake. He smirks and says, “Sure, why not? $1,000 a shot.”

The guy stammers, “Oh, I can not … That is …”

“Carter!” I hiss from behind him. “You can take a picture with someone.”

“No.” He glares over his shoulder at me. “Carter Black doesn’t do shit like that.”

I frown. Something about the way he says that seems off, like he’s talking about someone entirely separate from him. What the hell?

“He can if he wants to,” I say, stubbornly.

“Well, I don’t want to,” Carter says. He flips off the poor guy, who returns to his group embarrassed.

People are watching us now. The whispers spread, as people who recognize him now pull out their cameras and start filming. A few people glare and shake their heads, scornful of Carter’s bad manners. But more of them seem delighted and intrigued by his horrible behavior. A group of young women are all but fanning themselves.

“We should go,” Carter says, putting a hand on the small of my back to steer me back to the motorcycle.

“Couldn’t agree more,” I say tersely. I shrug off his touch.



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