The Bad Boy Billionaire's Wicked Arrangement

My phone dinged with an incoming text message from a number I didn’t recognize.
917-123-4567: Meet me at Soho House in ten minutes for celebratory drinks.
Jane Sparks: Who is this?
917-123-4567: Your fiancé

“Everyone thinks you’re mine,” he said. “And I’m starting to believe it too.”

course, because I had trained myself to look for happily-ever-after and I had developed oceans of patience and hope that the hero would eventually realize that he was being an obtuse ass, to use the Regency term

“Sometimes you just know,”

Because when he kissed me, I forgot everything.

You seem like the kind of girl who does things out of the kindness of your heart.”

softly.
“Do you think people really believe it?”
“Sure. They want to. There’s enough evidence that it’s easy to.”
“Project-TK means a lot to you,” I said. Of course I knew that. But what started out as a crazy scheme was now turning into something bigger. I was afraid it would become real. Or that I would fall for him. I couldn’t forget that