A Billionaire Fake Marriage (Complete)

Chapter 8

" CHLOE  POV "

True to his word, Gio sent someone to take care of the busted shingles on the roof.

Not too long after he left, a bearded guy in faded overalls had shown up at the front door, announcing that he’d been sent by Mr. De Luca.

I pointed him in the direction of the leak, and he’d set up his ladder and climbed up to take a look. When he saw the damage, he shook his head gloomily.

“I can fix the torn shingles,” he said.

“But the entire roof needs to be replaced.”

“I know,” I replied.

“I can’t afford it yet. But give me a few weeks, and I’ll call to schedule the work?”

Thank heavens I’d bargained for the extra fifty grand. I’d known for a long time that our house was falling apart.

I’d fixed things where I could, but I didn’t have the skills for most of the work that needed to be done.

Now, things would get better, and my grandmother could finally have the retirement she deserved.

* * *

Later that evening, I was at the library researching college admission guidelines when my phone rang. It was Gio!.

“Did I disturb you?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, getting to my feet and making my way to the door before the other patrons could give me dirty looks for talking in a quiet space.

“I’m at the library.”

“How come?”

“I’m using the computer here to research colleges.” I exhaled.

“Also, if I’m not at home, my grandmother can’t give me the third degree about you.”

Earlier that day, I’d introduced Gio to my grandmother as a friend, ignoring my grandmother’s obvious curiosity.

Now, I was hiding because I didn’t know how to answer her questions.

“Someone dropped by to fix the roof. Thankyou.”

“No problem,” he said.

“I thought that the two of us should get our cover story straight.
Your friends are bound to be curious about our sudden marriage. We should figure something out.”

“I don’t really have a lot of friends,” I mumbled.

“Just Dave and my grandmother.”

I could hear the frown in his voice.

“Why?”

I flushed, grateful he couldn’t see me.

“It’s hard to stay connected to people when you can’t afford to do the things they can,” I said finally.

I didn’t want to talk to Gio about money. I didn’t want his pity.

“Oh.” He was silent for a few minutes.

When he spoke again, he sounded uncomfortable, and I regretted saying anything.

“So, the cover story. Shall we meet for dinner and come up with one?”

“Tonight?”

“The sooner, the better,” he replied.

His voice had returned to normal.

“I can pick you up at seven?”

I glanced at my phone. That gave me an hour to get home and get ready.

“What should I wear?”

“Something dressy.” There was another slight hesitation.

“I’ve asked my sister Grace to take you clothes shopping next week. Do you need something to wear tonight?”

Should I have been insulted by his offer to buy me clothes? I wasn’t.

I was actually kind of touched by the fact that he cared enough to ask.

“I think I can manage,” I replied.

Every birthday, my grandmother bought me a special piece of fabric to make myself something pretty.

My closet was filled with dresses, that I never had  chance to wear in an occasion.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

* * *

To my everlasting confusion,he showed up with flowers. Of course, grandma was charmed.

“How lovely, Gio,” she said, giving me a meaningful look.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She was clearly contrasting Gio’s behavior with Dave’s, and finding Dave lacking.

If only she knew. Gio wanted De Luca Towers built, and he’d do whatever it took to achieve that.

I needed to remember that the flowers, two dozen beautiful blush-pink roses meant nothing.

I had to remind myself of that again once we got to Canoe, a restaurant that year after year, ranked among Canada’s best restaurants.

Sitting at a corner table with Gio, the views of the city surrounding us, it was hard not to give in to the magic of the evening.

Especially when he took my hand in his.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.

“That is a lovely dress.”

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“I made it.”

“You did?” He leaned forward, looking fascinated.

“You shingle roofs, and you sew your own clothing? What a strange woman you are Chloe Sophia Anderson.” He lifted my fingers to his lips, grazing the back of my palm with a soft kiss.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before.”

My heart was racing in my chest.

“Gio,” I whispered weakly.

Goosebumps rose on my skin at his touch, and my body ached for more.

At that moment, I regretted adding a No-Sex clause to our agreement.

“Chloe.” He didn’t remove his eyes from mine.

In his voice, I heard need, loud and clear, the same need that filled me.

Then our waiter approached with our drink orders, and Gio let go of my palm.

“Our cover story then?” he asked pleasantly once the waiter had left.

Just like that, our shared moment was over.

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