Loving The Bad Boy: An Enemies to Lovers Fake Boyfriend Romance (Rags to Riches Book 2) by Autumn Miller

Author:Autumn Miller [Miller, Autumn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Miller Publishing
Published: 2022-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MAL

As soon as I spot a waiter, I grab a glass of whatever they’re offering and knock it back.

Shit. How could something so good go so badly?

I realise my behaviour is perverse, but if a woman I’m taking to bed isn’t mad at me for bringing up all the women I’ve had, then she must be one cold-hearted, single-minded bitch. If the pillows aren’t covered in snot and tears then she’s not worth my effort.

I need to know I’m worth the fight, and while Millie seems to have demonstrated that numerous ways recently, it’s like I brought a different person to my bed.

I don’t understand it.

When I fall, I do it quickly. No one wants to fall in isolation, so I need to test the waters. I need to know my feelings are reciprocated. And while Millie might have said some things while tipsy the other night, I need more. I need to see deep emotion.

That efficient poise I identified in her right from the beginning seems to be ingrained in her DNA. Where’s the deserved vitriol? Why isn’t she railing at me for my shitty comments? Where’s the livid, hot jealousy?

Now I know her family like her timid and trained, but I’ve seen a different side to her, a fighting side, so I’m still confused about what just happened.

Watching her and Max de Vries talk made me jealous. He and I are incomparable, two different species. Maybe my suspicions that she would rather marry a respectable, moneyed man with a good heritage are correct. She clearly doesn’t think I’m worth her anger or tears.

I spot Millie in the reception room that leads out to the terrace. Her clutch is in one hand, her phone in the other. We’ve lost nearly a whole hour of the party which makes me a shit friend. And as fake boyfriends go I tip the scales over to the mean side.

“There you are. We’re about to do photos before we get too drunk,” Laurence informs me. “Where’s the heiress?”

“Her name’s Millie, and that’s not why I asked her to come here.”

“No? Why did you then?”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Yesterday evening, asking Millie here as my plus-one seemed like a brilliant idea. Over a short space of time, she’d grown on me. There was depth, respect and also ambivalence,like all my shit didn’t matter. Last night, it felt like a connection had been made and I don’t mean the physical side.

“I like her,” I reply. “She’s good fun. Why not?”

“Are you catching feelings?”

“No.”

“If we were in a court of law, I’d accuse you of perjury.”

“Fuck off, that’s not perjury.”

“White lies?” he suggests. “I won’t tell on you.”

I almost laugh. That’s pretty much all Laurence had to do when we were boys, not tell on me. He was born a lawyer, and that instinctive truthful part of him, although very often just a clever ability to skirt around the confines of the law, is never far away.

“I might have fucked up.” I might have been rushing into something that wasn’t mine to grab for.

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