Zara Fox's POV
We spent the rest of the drive finalizing the details of our masterful lie. But there's a tension in the car that has nothing to do with the story. It's the way his gaze occasionally wanders to my legs. The way I pretend not to notice, while my pulse races at his insolence.
When we arrive at the restaurant, an exclusive place with dim lighting and white marble, Julián gets out of the car with a masculine air that attracts several female glances. He walks around the vehicle and opens my door. But he doesn't step away. When I stand up, his hand rests on my waist with an undeniable firmness. His fingers press right where the fabric of the dress thins, and I feel the warmth of his palm.
"Smile, Zara," he murmurs against my ear, so close that his breath makes the back of my
