Fake Dating With My Brother's Best Friend

Chapter 13 Concealment

Gabrielle

The front door of Oak Manor swung shut behind me with a soft, solid click. I leaned against it for a moment, letting the cool wood press into my back, and exhaled the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding all the way home. The foyer was dim, lit only by the single lamp Caleb always left on when he was waiting. Its warm glow pooled across the polished floorboards like spilled honey.

I slipped off my heels and carried them in one hand, padding barefoot toward the stairs. The house was silent except for the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. I had almost made it to the first step when a voice cut through the darkness from the direction of the study.

"Gabby."

I froze. My heart leaped into my throat.

Caleb emerged from the study doorway, silhouetted against the amber glow of his desk lamp. He was still in his work clothes—a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the top button undone. In one hand, he held his phone. His expression was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw made my stomach clench.

"I called you," he said. His voice sounded calm, but I caught the sharp edge beneath it. "You never picked up."

My mind raced. The drive back from Granville Manor had been quiet, Nathaniel sitting beside me, his presence both grounding and unsettling. I had been so lost in my own thoughts—the warmth of his palm against my waist, the composed way he had introduced me as his "fiancée" to Richard Foster, the weight of his gaze on me across the candlelight—that I hadn't even glanced at my phone.

"Sorry," I said, forcing a light tone. "I must have had it on silent. I went out with Diana, we had dinner, and we just lost track of time chatting."

The lie came out more smoothly than I'd expected. I hated myself for it—hated how easily the words slipped out, hated that I could keep my expression perfectly composed while my heart hammered in my chest. Diana was an old friend from university, now living in London. The excuse was plausible, unassailable. And entirely false.

Caleb tilted his head, studying me with that sharp, assessing look he reserved for boardroom negotiations. "Diana? This is the first time I've heard you mention her since you came back."

"She called me out of the blue," I said, spreading my hands in a casual shrug. "She was in town for a conference, so we met up and caught up. She kept asking about you, actually." I added that last bit for credibility—a real lie always needed details.

Caleb narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't look convinced, and just as I swallowed nervously, he spoke.

"You still should have answered. I was worried."

"I know. I'm sorry." I let out a quiet breath, relieved he wasn't pressing further. I stepped closer, softening my voice. "I haven't gone out with friends in so long—I got carried away. It won't happen again, I promise."

He was quiet for a long moment, searching my face. I met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away. After what felt like an eternity, something in his expression relaxed—not entirely, but enough to take the edge off.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll let it go this time." He slipped his phone into his pocket and crossed his arms. "But Gabby—if you're going to be out late, at least answer your phone. I was this close to sending a car to track you down."

I managed a small, genuine smile. "I promise. Next time I'll pick up."

"Good." He paused, then added, his voice gentler, "Look, I'm glad you went out. Really. After everything with Vance, you deserve to have some fun, to feel normal again. I just—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you to disappear on me. That's all."

Guilt settled in my chest like a stone. I thought of the contract hidden in my nightstand drawer, the web of lies I was weaving around my brother—the one person who had never stopped believing in me. "I won't disappear," I said. "I promise."

Caleb nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. Then he turned back toward his study, pausing at the door. "Get some rest. You look tired."

"I will. Goodnight, Caleb."

"Goodnight, little squirrel."

I climbed the stairs slowly, my bare feet silent on the carpeted steps. At the top, I glanced back. Caleb had already returned to his study, the door half-closed, warm light spilling through the gap.

I slipped into my room and closed the door, leaning against it as I had at the front entrance. My heart was still racing, the dampness of nervous sweat still clinging to my palms. I pressed a hand to my chest, willing it to slow.

My phone buzzed in my clutch. I pulled it out, my heart skipping a beat.

Nathaniel: You were flawless tonight. Everyone noticed. Thank you for playing your part so well. I think we can call it a successful first appearance. Looking forward to our future collaboration. Goodnight.

I read the message twice. The phrasing was watertight, businesslike, distant—exactly what someone would send after closing a deal. The words "playing your part" and "collaboration" were like small reminders, gently steering me back to the boundaries of our agreement. Something tightened in my chest, but I refused to name what it was.

I typed a reply, deleted it, typed again. "Thank you. You were a good partner too. Goodnight."

I hit send and set the phone on the nightstand. The room was dark and quiet. I showered, changed into my pajamas, and climbed into bed.

The phone buzzed again.

I reached for it, my pulse quickening.

Nathaniel: Gabrielle. I know I just said goodnight. But there's something I want you to know.

A pause. The little dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. I stared at the screen, holding my breath.

Nathaniel: You were beautiful tonight.

Nathaniel: Goodnight. Truly goodnight this time.

I read the words three times. The first time, my heart stopped. The second time, heat rushed to my cheeks. The third time, I felt something c***k open in my chest—something I had been trying desperately to keep sealed.