Chapter 11
Julian sat on the edge of the couch, blood trailing down the corner of his lip and a faint bruise blooming across his cheekbone. I dabbed at it gently with a cotton pad, my fingers trembling as I whispered another apology.
“I’m really sorry, Julian,” I said again, my voice small. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to that bar–if I had just stayed home-”
Julian caught my wrist mid–apology, his grip firm but not harsh. “Hey,” he said, eyes locking with mine. “None of this is your fault. That man was disgusting. I’d do it all over again, no hesitation”
Still, guilt gnawed at my chest. He had gotten hurt–for me. Again.
“If you really feel sorry,” he said with a small smirk, “how about doing something for me in return?”
I blinked, unsure. “What… what kind of something?”
“Be my girlfriend.”
I laughed, caught completely off–guard. “What?”
“You agreed,” he said smugly, leaning back. “You said you’d do anything.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wait, wait. Back up. You want me to… be your girlfriend?”
He nodded, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Exactly.”
I stared at him. “You’re joking.”
“Not even a little.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You see, my family has been trying to set me up on blind dates for months now. I told them I was already dating someone to shut them up. Now they want to meet her.”
I blinked again. “So, let me get this straight. You got punched in a bar fight, rescued me, and now you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”
Julian gave a lazy shrug. “Why not? You’re beautiful, smart, and artistic. Plus, you owe me
I scoffed. “That’s blackmail.”
“That’s resourcefulness,” he countered with a grin. “Besides, it’s not like you have a choice. Otherwise… I’ll have to find another assistant.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s not fair!”
“Neither is getting punched by a creep for trying to protect a lady,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “So… do we have a deal, Miss Montero?”
I stared at him. This man. He was impossible.
“…Fine,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
“Good. Because the dinner’s tomorrow.”
I blinked. “Dinner?”
“With my family.”
“Julian!”
But he was already on his feet, walking to the door. “A car will pick you up at six. Oh, and check
…:11
Chapter 11
212 44.8%
2:56 pm DDDD.
your phone–I will send you a dress.”
I sat on the couch, stunned. A dress?
Sure enough, the next day a beautifully wrapped box arrived with a note in elegant handwriting: Looking forward to introducing you to the chaos that is my family. Wear this. You’ll look stunning in it. -Julian
I held the silky fabric to my chest and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Was I really doing this?
Apparently… yes.
The next evening arrived far too quickly.
Rain had screamed through video call when I told her the whole thing, especially after I mentioned the “fake girlfriend” part.
“Girl, are you serious? That man is literally on the cover of Forbes‘ Sexiest Bachelors list. And he asked YOU to pretend to be his girlfriend?”
“It’s just to avoid blind dates,” I reminded her.
Rain rolled her eyes. “Uh–huh. That’s how all romance novels start, Alicia. I’m watching you.”
Now, standing outside Julian’s luxury penthouse, I felt my nerves spike. The dress was perfect- black velvet with a subtle shimmer, hugging my figure with elegance I hadn’t felt in a long time My heels clicked against the marble as I stepped inside the grand estate.
Julian met me at the entrance, wearing a crisp navy suit and a smile that could melt glaciers.
“You look… beautiful,” he said, a hint of real admiration in his voice.
“Thanks,” I murmured, smoothing the dress.
“Ready?”
No. Not even close.
But I nodded. “Let’s do this.”
His family, surprisingly, was warm and inviting. His mother was classy but kind, his father a bit traditional but welcoming. Dinner flowed effortlessly, laughter rising between sips of wine and stories about Julian’s childhood that made me giggle under my breath.
I had almost forgotten the awkwardness–until his mother looked at us, smile widening.
“So, Julian,” she said, clasping her hands. “Now that you’ve finally brought a girl home, tell us- when’s the wedding?”
choked on my drink.
