Chapter 3 The First Kiss That Wasn't Fake

Lily had barely been in Julian Saint Clair's penthouse for an hour when she realized this man was going to drive her insane.

"This place is ridiculous," she muttered, staring at the massive living room-if you could even call it that.

It was bigger than her entire apartment.

The walls were all floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing a breathtaking, glittering view of the New York skyline. The furniture was sleek, modern, and expensive, in shades of black, gray, and cream.

Everything screamed power and wealth.

And the scent of rich leather and something distinctly Julian filled the space, wrapping around her like an unspoken reminder: This is his world. And you don't belong in it.

Lily exhaled, crossing her arms.

What had she gotten herself into?

"Don't Get Comfortable."

Julian stood across the room, watching her with that same unreadable expression.

"Don't get comfortable," he said, his deep voice as sharp as ever.

Lily arched her brow. "Excuse me?"

"This is a business arrangement." He adjusted the cuff of his designer suit, like even this conversation was wasting his time. "You're here to play a role. That's all."

Lily's jaw clenched.

"I'm well aware, Saint Clair. Trust me, I'm not here for the hospitality."

She wasn't sure why she felt the need to push back, but something about him-his arrogance, his constant control-made her want to ruffle his perfectly tailored feathers.

Julian didn't react.

Instead, he took a step closer.

Then another.

Until he was right in front of her.

Lily barely had time to process what was happening before his hands were on her waist.

Her breath hitched. "What are you-"

"Shh."

His fingers tightened slightly. His grip was firm but not harsh, sending a wave of something strange through her.

Lily's brain stuttered.

What the hell was he doing?

Then, she saw it.

The elevator doors at the entrance slid open, revealing a woman in a navy-blue dress stepping out.

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels tapped against the marble floors, elegant and precise.

Lily's stomach twisted.

She had seen pictures of her before.

Caroline Saint Clair.

Julian's stepmother.

Their first real test.

A Kiss That Wasn't in the Contract

Julian's grip tightened.

Lily barely had time to react before he spun her around and-

His mouth crashed against hers.

Lily froze.

Her entire body went still, her brain refusing to process what was happening.

Julian Saint Clair-New York's most ruthless billionaire-was kissing her.

And it wasn't fake.

At least, it didn't feel fake.

His lips were firm, warm, demanding. He kissed her with slow, teasing confidence, like he had done this a hundred times before.

Like he meant it.

Her knees nearly buckled.

Lily's heart slammed against her ribs.

Was she supposed to kiss him back? What was the protocol for fake kisses that felt dangerously real?

She didn't have to think about it-her body reacted on its own.

Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his suit, her lips parting just enough for him to deepen the kiss-

And just as suddenly as he had kissed her, Julian pulled away.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down.

Lily couldn't breathe.

What the hell was that?!

Back to Reality. Sort Of.

Julian turned back to Caroline, his expression perfectly composed.

"Caroline," he said smoothly. "I'm glad you could stop by."

Lily, meanwhile, was struggling to remember how to exist.

She was still dazed, still feeling the ghost of Julian's lips on hers.

And the worst part?

Caroline was watching them closely.

The older woman smiled politely, but her sharp eyes flickered between them, analyzing every detail.

Julian's hand was still on Lily's waist.

His thumb barely brushed against her hip bone, an absent, possessive gesture.

Lily forced herself to snap out of it.

She had a role to play.

Right.

She was his fiancée.

So, with everything in her, she leaned into Julian's side, tilting her head up at him.

And then, because she was feeling reckless, she let her fingers trace the lapel of his suit.

She felt his muscles tense underneath the fabric.

Two can play this game, Saint Clair.

A Silent War Between Lovers (or Liars?)

For the next thirty minutes, Caroline grilled her.

Where did she and Julian meet?

What was her favorite memory with him?

Had he proposed in Paris or Rome?

Lily answered every question flawlessly.

Julian didn't correct her once.

And yet, she could feel it.

Every time she spoke, every time she added some little romantic detail to their fake love story, Julian's gaze flickered with something unreadable.

Like he was amused.

Or maybe impressed.

Either way, it infuriated her.

When Caroline Finally Left...

The moment the penthouse doors shut behind Caroline, Lily spun around.

"What the hell was that?!"

Julian calmly undid the cufflinks of his suit.

"A kiss, Miss Green. Try to keep up."

Lily gawked. "That wasn't a kiss! That was-"

She stopped.

Because if she said it was real, she would be admitting that it had felt that way to her.

And she would rather die than admit that to Julian Saint Clair.

Julian smirked.

He knew.

The smug bastard knew.

Her face heated. "You could have warned me!"

His smirk deepened. "Would you have reacted as well if I had?"

Lily scowled. "I would have prepared!"

Julian stepped closer, his blue eyes glinting.

"That's the problem, Lily." His voice was a low murmur, the kind that sent unwanted shivers down her spine.

"You're not supposed to prepare. You're supposed to make it look real."

Lily's breath caught.

It felt real.

And that was the most dangerous part of all.