I pick up his note and read it. Sleep well, it says, we can have those truffles another time.
A yawn overtakes me, so I carry Dane's note into my bedroom and set it on the nightstand where I can see it, then I crawl into bed. I'm gazing at the note when I fall asleep.
The next day, I decide I really ought to make sure Dane isn't holed up in his big hotel suite all alone, like the creepy loser our fake relationship is supposed to ensure nobody thinks he is. Yeah, that's the reason I wind up at the Four Seasons Hotel at ten o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. I'm making sure we keep up appearances. It has nothing to do with the fact his sweetness last night gave me a warm glow all over.
I take a private elevator all the way up to the penthouse suite. When the car stops and the doors open, Dane is standing right outside the elevator waiting for me.
"Rika, what are you doing here?" he asks. "I saw you on the camera, but you didn't ring me first to say you'd be coming."
"Um, what camera?"
"This suite has three elevators and cameras in all of them."
"Wow, that's a little spooky."
Naturally, he's wearing dress slacks and a dress shirt. At least he isn't wearing a tie, though he does have shoes on. Shiny loafers. And he has a belt too.
I remember Elena telling the story of how, the first time she visited Chance in his big hotel suite, he answered the door wearing nothing but a towel. Why couldn't Dane do that? I'm in serious need of man candy. But no, he looks like he's about to hold a meeting with foreign diplomats.
"Shouldn't you be happy to see your girlfriend?" I ask. Leaning in, I whisper, "Even if it is a sham, we should make sure everyone sees us together. Don't you think?"
"I suppose you're right."
Dane steps aside so I can walk past him.
Holy moly. I've never seen a hotel room like this one before. We're up on the fifty-second floor, with a fabulous view of the city and its skyscrapers with a blue sky as the backdrop. I wander through the huge suite, taking in the jaw-dropping views from the four glass balconies. I stop in what looks like a library. I mean, it has books on shelves, so yeah, it must be a library. The room has gorgeous golden-brown paneling, two sofas, and two chairs, not to mention a baby grand piano---and one of those glass balconies.
Dane comes up beside me, his expression neutral, like none of this opulence affects him in the least. "What should we do? To show the world we're a couple."
"Hang out, I guess. If I stay here for a while, everyone will probably assume we banged each other all day long."
"I'm not sure---That's, ah---" He scrubs a hand over his mouth. "Do we really want to give people that impression? You're not my mistress."
"Sure I am." I turn toward him and wave my hands at my body. "Arm candy here, remember? I'm just an ornament to help you prove your manliness."
"I don't like that description."
"Neither do I, but that's the deal. Right?"
"Yes, but---" He scrunches his whole face in the cutest expression of frustration and annoyance. "I don't want the world to see you that way."
"Ugh, Dane." Now I sound frustrated and probably look it too, like he had a second ago. "You can't have it both ways. I'm your fake girlfriend, but you don't want to use me as a body ornament. That's the point of this charade, isn't it? I mean, you told me this would be a business arrangement because Celeste insists you must have a woman on your arm at public events."
"You remember exactly what I said? That sounds verbatim."
"It is. I have an excellent memory."
"Yes, I can tell." He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and ambles over to the glass balcony. While he gazes out at the view, he sighs and removes his glasses. After staring at them for a minute, he puts them back on and slumps his shoulders. "This sounded like a good idea when I suggested it."
I approach him, slipping my arm under his. "Well, you can always fake dump me."
"Would you mind not making jokes about our...arrangement?" He hunches his shoulders, his gaze veering down to the floor. "I don't like to think about it."
"But you have to. We're in too deep to back out. You got me a new job and everything."
Maybe I'm secretly afraid I won't see him again if he calls off our phony relationship. I work in Connecticut now. Dane has a new PA. He won't need me anymore if we're not pretending to date. I love spending time with him, like last night when he'd brought me dinner and we sat on the sofa talking. He even put a blanket over me when I fell asleep.
He groans. "I know we can't back out of it. The wheels are already in motion. I told Celeste first thing yesterday that you and I are dating and that's why I needed a new PA." He scrunches up his face again. "I'm sure Celeste has already told Reese to start a new marketing campaign all about you and me and a lot of bollocks about how well I satisfy you in bed."
Maybe he would satisfy me---if we had sex.
Not maybe. He absolutely would fulfill my every desire. Those two make-out sessions heated me up in all the right ways. No man who kisses like that could be anything less than stellar in bed. It's not "bollocks."
"If you're so miserable," I say, "you should talk to Celeste. She cares about keeping her employees happy."
He leans against the glass balcony, his eyes aimed toward the view but his focus clearly on something much farther away. "I'll think about it."
"Okay." I'm pretty sure that when he says he'll think about it he means he's never going to do it. He seems shy about telling anyone how he's really feeling. So I decide to distract him from his worries. "Let's do something fun, like order room service. A whole bunch of totally fattening, cholesterol-laden goodies."
He eyes me sideways. "Is that meant to make me feel better? Getting nauseous from eating too much doesn't appeal to me."
"Who said you have to eat too much? Let's order everything on the breakfast menu and try all of it. No overeating unless you feel like it." I nudge him with my shoulder. "What do you say?"
"All right."
Dane makes the call to order our late breakfast. I already had breakfast when I got up this morning, but I ate light, so I've got room left for a decadent brunch. Besides, Dane needs cheering up. And I want to make him feel better. Want to so much. I would hug him, but I'm afraid that might embarrass him.
Dane says he needs to take a shower while we wait for our food. He looks clean to me, but I figure he needs some alone time. He emerges from the bathroom about a minute before the elevator doors open and a hotel employee wheels a cart full of our food through the suite and out onto the spacious balcony. The polite young man sets our food on a table. Dane gives him a tip and sends him on his way.
We don't talk much while we eat, but we do feed each other. He surprises me by starting it, holding a forkful of pancake to my lips, then slipping it inside my mouth when I open up to accept the food gift. I never would've expected Dane Dixon to do something like that. He acts so serious most of the time, but feeding me pancakes and French toast and eggs Benedict doesn't jibe with that. He knows how to relax. Huh.