The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella)

Chapter 5 Five

Isabelle’s heart hammered away in her chest. Why was he suddenly asking that? Had she said

something to give herself away?

If he found out the truth and cancelled the marriage… No! She couldn’t let that happen. If he

discovered her family’s deceit, her parents would no longer cater for Hannah’s treatment.

“Of course I am,” she replied, crossing her arms across her chest. “Why would you ask that?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her. It made her

even more uneasy.

“You are the Garcias' eldest son, right?” she asked, attempting to shift the attention from her to him.

Jacob shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on his feet. “I am.”

She nodded. “Well then, it’s all good, right?”

Was it? Jacob wondered as he studied Isabelle.

Knowing that he was going to marry a strange woman to fulfil his mother’s wish, he sent someone to

investigate the eldest daughter of the Cruzes. He had needed to know about her so he could figure out

how to encourage her to divorce him quickly.

But now, he was wondering whether his source had gotten his information wrong.

When Jacob appeared at the wedding, he was ready to meet a haughty woman who would turn hostile

at the sight of their living arrangement. Because according to his source, his intended bride would

never settle for such a life.

The reality was turning out to be completely different.

Isabelle was not showing any animosity towards the situation. Did she really not mind being married to

a poor man she wasn’t even in love with? Was she so devoted to her family that she was willing to

sacrifice her own desires to ensure they met their end of the agreement?

Because if that was the case, Jacob was afraid it would be so much harder to get her to divorce him.

But that couldn’t happen. Whether this woman was who she said she was or not, he didn’t care. As

long as he was concerned, he had fulfilled his mother’s wish and married the eldest daughter of the

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Now, all he needed to do was find a way to end the entire thing. What besides passing off as a

notorious man could make a wealthy heiress divorce you?

“It’s all good,” he replied finally. “It has been a long day, we should go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle said, then her eyes slid past him to the only bed in the room.

Jacob held out one hand to her. “Care to join me?”

She shook her head quickly. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“The bed is big enough for both of us,” he pointed out.

“You’re only my husband on paper, Jacob. Other than that, you’re a stranger to me. I don’t share a bed

with strangers.”

He took a step towards her, crowding her. “You don’t?”

Isabelle swallowed as he stepped closer. “I don’t.”

“I’ll not try to touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured her.

Did he really think she would agree to sleep in the same bed with him when they were in a fake

marriage? Ah, or was this one of his ploys to seduce her? She had heard that he was the player, after

all. And not long ago, he had offered to satisfy her sexual needs…

She cleared her throat and gestured to the sofa. “I’m good with the sofa.”

She actually wasn’t–after the long day she had had, she was hoping for a good night’s rest. Now, not

only was she trapped in a room with a strange man, but she also had to make do with a sofa. None of

that screamed ‘good night’s sleep.’ Forget having a good rest. She would be lucky if she could get a

few hours of shut-eye.

Jacob shook his head and took yet another step towards her. She wished he would stop doing that. It

was getting harder to focus on the important things with him getting in her space. The closer he got, the

more attuned she became to the scent of his soap, the slight dampness of his hair, the curve of his

upper lip…

She shook her head mentally. Those were not the kind of thoughts she was supposed to be having if

she was determined to keep everything platonic.

“No, I can’t have that, he told her. “If you won’t come to bed with me, I’ll take the sofa.”

Would he really do that?

“No, you don’t have to. It’s your bed, after all.”

“Our bed,” he corrected. “And, fake or not, you’re my wife, and I won’t let you sleep on the sofa.”

She looked at him, met his gaze for a second, and then looked away. So, even after saying they would

only pretend to be a couple in public, was he going to treat her like his wife indoors?

“Thanks, then, if you’re sure,” she told him.

“But,” he said, reaching forward to lean one of his hands on the counter next to her. “Do we really have

to resort to that?”

Isabelle swallowed, her throat going dry at his sudden closeness. His arm brushed against her side and

she stepped to the side, attempting to create more space between them. “What?”

“We are both adults,” he said, his eyes running up and down her body openly.

Was he checking her out? What exactly was he trying to do? She tried to maintain her composure, but

it was hard when his dark eyes rose to hers. They penetrated hers, and for a second, she forgot how to

breathe.

It wasn’t her fault that he was so good-looking…

The closer Jacob got to Isabelle, the stronger the whiff he was getting of her soap or shampoo or

whatever it was she had used in the bathroom got. And damned if he didn’t want to close the few

remaining inches between them and press his nose into her neck, or hair, just to take a deep inhale.

Dammit…was it really possible to play house with this woman without crossing the lines he had

intended to draw even before he met her?

He was loving her reactions to him a little too much. As he got closer, she looked as if she wanted to

bolt, but also as if she was trying hard to act like he wasn’t affecting her. Her chest was rising a little

more rapidly, and her hands had closed into fists.

Maybe while they were stuck in this situation, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun…

Moving quickly, he stepped in front of her and placed his other hand on her other side, effectively

caging her to the kitchen counter.

Her eyes widened instantly as her hands dropped to brace herself on the surface behind her. “What…

what are you doing?”

He leaned in, closing in on her, bringing his lips to her ear. “Would you like us to be a real couple…

behind closed doors?”

Her wide eyes fixated on him. “I…I…”

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he whispered, making a point of keeping his voice as low as possible. “I

wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you. And, of course, doing other things that a normal couple would.”