FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS: MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS

CHAPTER 12

~ SIMON

Jamie hauled me through the kitchen with a grip I hadn't expected from someone her size. The door swung shut behind us, and she spun on me, eyes blazing.

"Simon! What the hell was that? My grandmother. My aunts. They're going to think I'm some kind of—"

"A healthy woman who sleeps with her boyfriend?" I shrugged. "Scandalous."

"Simon!"

"What?" I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You'd rather I told the truth? That I broke some guy's face in high school and spent a night in juvie?"

She blinked.

"You're not serious."

"Twenty years ago." I shook my head. "Guy was running his mouth about my dad. Told him to stop. He didn't. I broke his nose, his jaw, and three of his teeth."

"Three teeth?"

"It was a good night."

She went quiet for a beat, the anger on her face shifting into something more complicated.

"Why didn't you tell them that?"

"Because I don't want your grandmother thinking I'm a delinquent. Or an aggressive guy." I shrugged again. "I'd rather she think I banged you in the shower. It's a better story."

She dragged a hand down her face.

"I'm going to kill you, Simon Hart."

"No, you're not." I took a step toward her. "Because you're having fun."

"I am not."

"You are." Another step. "I saw you smile when your aunt asked if I had life insurance."

"I did not smile."

"You did. It was kind of psychopathic, but it was a smile."

The laugh escaped before she could stop it, and I knew I had her. Jamie tried to cover it, turning her face away, but it was too late—I'd seen it.

"See?" I pointed at her. "You laughed."

"That was an involuntary spasm." She crossed her arms. "It doesn't mean anything."

"It means you're having fun, Counselor. Even against your will."

She shook her head, but the smile was still stubbornly clinging to the corner of her mouth. She leaned against the counter next to me, and for a moment we just stood there in silence, listening to the hum of the old refrigerator and the muffled laughter drifting in from the dining room.

"Simon," she said, her voice quieter.

"Yeah?"

"I..." She hesitated, biting her lower lip in that way I was starting to find dangerously familiar. "I'm starting to regret this arrangement a little bit."

I turned to look at her, frowning. "Why? What happened?"

"Because I just realized I'm going to have to tell them we broke up, and they already love you." She looked away. "I'm going to have to face all of them again." She let out a bitter laugh. "They're going to look at me with that same pity they had before, except this time it's going to be worse, because they're going to start thinking maybe I'm the problem."

I stayed quiet, letting that sink in.

"Jamie." My voice came out softer than I intended. "Look at me."

She hesitated, but eventually she turned.

"You don't have to tell them anything if you don't want to," I said. "We can just... not break up. Tell them we're taking a break. Or I traveled for work. Or we decided to keep things quiet for a while." I shrugged. "Truth is, you don't owe anyone anything. Not your grandmother, not your aunts, not your mother. You just have to figure out what's best for you."

"You're... you're saying we can just... not tell them?"

"Why not?" I stepped closer. "The only people who actually need to know the truth are us." I held her gaze. "You overthink everything, Jamie. Every worst-case scenario. What happens tomorrow. What people will think. Maybe, just this once, you should stop trying to predict the disaster and take it one day at a time."

She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching mine like she was looking for a lie.

"You're being weirdly deep today," she said, suspicious.

"I'm always deep."

"You're never deep. Actually, you're impossible to predict. I never know if you're about to open your mouth and say something stupid or drop one of those lines that actually makes me think."

"That's why you like me."

"I don't like you."

"Sure you do." I leaned against the counter next to her, our shoulders almost touching. "You just don't want to admit it."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the kitchen door swung open. Her great-aunt Margareth stepped in, eyes wide.

"Oh, there you two are!" She smiled, clearly pleased to have found us alone. "The storm's getting worse. Anyone who lives a few minutes away is heading out now before it gets really bad."

Jamie and I exchanged a look.

"We should get back to the living room," I said, settling my hand on the small of her back with a ease that was already becoming automatic.

By the time we got back, the house was emptier. Just Jamie's parents, her grandmother, and the two of us remained while the storm raged outside like a caged animal.

"Where's Dr. Faithful? Left without even giving me a goodbye kiss?" I asked, smirking.

Jamie rolled her eyes.

"No idea. And I plan to keep it that way."

Her father let out a low laugh before pushing himself up from the sofa.

"Alright. I'll get the guest room ready for you two."

"It's just one bed, I hope you don't mind," her grandmother said, wearing that smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing. "Just try not to break anything in there."

Jamie went red instantly.

I let out a laugh.

She elbowed me in the ribs like she was saying, This is all your fault.

"We'll survive, Grandma," I assured her, pressing a hand to my side. "Thanks for having us."

When we finally made it to the room, the door clicked shut behind us with a soft sound. The space was small, cozy, and contained exactly one bed.

One small full bed.

"I don't remember this bed being this small," she said quietly.

Jamie stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes locked on the narrow mattress like it was some kind of punishment. Her shoulders were tight, her hands plastered to her sides, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she processed the situation.

Me? I was having the time of my life.

"Well, well, well," I said, flopping onto the mattress with a theatrical sigh, hands behind my head. "Who would've thought I'd end up sharing a bed with my employee of the year?"

She didn't move.

"Which position do you prefer?" I continued. "Spooning, face-to-face, or the..."

I paused for dramatic effect.

"Sixty-nine?"

The look she shot me could've frozen the Atlantic.

"Keep talking and I'll make you sleep on the floor."

I crossed my arms, barely holding back a grin. Irritated Counselor Collins might just be my favorite version of her.