Pretend It’s Real for Me – You Belong With Me Read Online Whitney G

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Whitney G. Advertisement1

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Please leave your message at the sound of the beep… Tatiana, it’s currently four o’clock in the morning, and I can’t sleep because I’m drunk and wide-awake thinking about you. How I was almost yours, and you were almost mine... My life is currently in shambles, and my entire fighting career is hanging in the balance. So, I have to make some huge changes. Since you still owe me that favor from years ago, I need to cash it in now. I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for ninety days. Just ninety days. We don’t have to talk behind closed doors and we don’t have to try to be friends again. We don’t even have to kiss—even though I can guarantee no man has ever kissed you better… I can promise that we won’t touch either. Although the last time we ran into each other, you looked like you wanted me all over again. (Don’t deny it.) Anyway, I’m just cashing in that delayed “I.O.U.” that you swore would “never be too late to redeem.” I’m not asking for much. I just want you to pretend it’s real, for me .

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

FORTY DAYS AFTER SAYING “I DO”

TATIANA

“Do the words ‘til death do us part’ give me a free pass to murder my husband?”

I’ve googled that question a million times since I “married” the sexy bastard who dominates almost every billboard in Las Vegas, and the answers are always the same: “No, that’s not what that means” and “Prepare to spend the rest of your life in prison.”

I’ve even tried adding a follow-up question—“What if I’m married to Travis Dante Carter?”—but the results are even worse.

The only links that appear are fan sites, filled with stories of women attempting to send him their panties in the mail or forums on how they wish someone would murder me, so they can take my place.

Alas, I can’t take this arrangement anymore, and I’ve been planning my grand escape for weeks.

It’s now or never.

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!” a woman yells in my direction. “Come back here now!”

I grip the handle of my suitcase and race down the hallway as fast as I can.

“Miss, please!” she calls after me again. “Your husband won’t be amused about this!”

Oh, I’m sure he won’t.

“Come on, come on, come on … ” I jab the elevator’s down button. “Hurry up.”

The numbers above the shaft glow as they ascend, and I hold my breath as they get closer. When the doors finally glide open, I pull my luggage onto the car and release a sigh.

Swiping my security card against the keypad, I can almost taste the faint flavor of freedom. It’s all too sweet and lacks the bitterness that I’ll never have to devour again.

No more photo shoots with my fake husband’s full lips pressed against mine. No more suffocating tension that fills every room we’re forced to share. And no more long, hard nights of denial. (The denial is from him, by the way, not me.)

“You are now arriving at the private garage,” the speaker system declares. “Please watch for passing traffic.”

The elevator doors open, and my husband is standing right in front of me, instantly derailing my train of thought.

Sexy as ever, his black dress shirt is unbuttoned, exposing his perfect six-pack abs, leading the way down a rock-hard lane to his impeccably chiseled “V.”

His emerald green eyes meet mine, then his lips curve into a panty-melting smirk that I’ve never been able to resist.

Say, “Goodbye, Travis Carter.”

Say, “Eff you, and goodbye…”

“Going somewhere, Mrs. Carter?” he asks, glancing at my suitcase.

“It’s Miss Brave now.” I twist the wedding ring off my finger and hold it out to him.

“Would you like me to get that resized for you or something?”

“I’d actually like for you to take it back,” I say. “I don’t want it anymore.”

He lets out a low laugh and steps onto the car, blocking my escape.

“I could’ve sworn we had a ninety-day deal,” he says. “Was I wrong about that?”

“You’re wrong about a lot of things.” I shrug. “Feel free to sue me for breach of contract, but I’m done being your wife.”

He smiles, but it quickly disappears. “Where are you headed?”

“Somewhere alone.”

“Well, I’d like to come with you, so we can discuss whatever it is you think you’re doing.”

“I’m divorcing you.” I tuck the ring into his pocket. “Unofficially.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a cocky, arrogant bastard who thinks that the sun rises and falls over this city whenever you want it to.”

“It does, so I need you to give me a better reason than that.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“A believable reason.”

“How about, I hate you?”

“You don’t.” He smirks. “Try again.”

“Rejection never has been your strong suit...” I suck in a breath as he steps closer. “I would honestly prefer it if I was no longer married to Travis ‘The Punisher’ Carter. He’s too much for me to handle.”

“That’s why you’re only pretending to be with him…” He closes the gap between us, then his eyes lock on mine, rendering me speechless. “We’re almost halfway through our contract, Tatiana. Tell me the truth.”

“I just did. This is becoming too hard of a role for me to play.”

“Then allow me to cast you in an easier one.” His lips brush against mine, and my heart flutters in my chest. “Pretend like I’m the guy you softly moan about while touching yourself in the shower every night. That guy isn’t me, correct?”

“Correct.” I look deep into his eyes, hoping he can’t tell I’m lying. “He’s not you.”

“Okay then.” He pushes a stray curl away from my forehead, gently tucking it behind my ear. “Just pretend I’m that guy until this is over, and we can easily return to acting like we never knew each other. Again.”

Silence.

It stretches between us for several seconds, unraveling a long string of pain and heartache. The words we’ve left unsaid for years are still tied under our tongues, tragically trapped under seams of secrets that we both have tried to ignore.


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