Page 117 of Faking It
“But Zane!” I sputter out the words. “That’s a lot of money!” Like more than I’m even comfortable saying. A million dollars he’ll lose
in the purse and a million dollars he used for SoulM8. “You put all that money into SoulM8 and then the prize and—”
“And SoulM8 is making me a lot more money than that initial investment . . . and I found you.” He reaches over and cups the side of my face, thumb brushing over my bottom lip, trying to distract me. “I think I got my money’s worth.”
“You’re game keeps improving by the minute.”
“Lucky for me we have all the time in the world.”
He smiles at me and it makes everything inside of me heat up. “So who won?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I walked out before they opened the accountant’s results. I’m sure we’ll hear all about it later though . . . but right now, I just wanted to be with you.” And it never gets tiring hearing him say stuff like that.
“So you don’t even know if you won?”
He smiles in a way that tells me he may have, he may not have and his ambiguity drives me crazy.
“I forgot. I wanted to show you something. Sit tight.”
I turn and watch Zane head into our villa behind us and return shortly with what looks to be a laptop case. “What are you doing with that?” I ask.
“Breaking the rules.” His grin is lightning quick.
“We said no internet—”
“You can punish me later.” He winks and presses a kiss to the side of my head as he sets the laptop on the table in front of us.
“What’s this?”
“I—uh—got wind of this video that was going viral that I wanted you to see.”
Such an odd thing for him to say but okay . . . “Of?”
“Of one of the best proposals I’ve seen come out of a match with SoulM8. “
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And you chose to come back here and show me this instead of seeing who won and hanging with the guys? I’m flattered.”
“I told you, I’ve got mad game.”
I start laughing as the computer screen springs to life. Zane hits a few buttons and then swears when our own image pops up on the screen. “Dammit,” he grumbles. “That’s what I get for borrowing Kostas’ computer.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s like the camera is stuck.”
I start laughing. “Can I just say I don’t want to know what he’s doing or recording so that his camera is stuck on his screen.” Images of women and more women and everything in between fill my mind. Zane grumbles a few more times. “It’s not a big deal. We can watch it later.”
“No, it’s really cool. It . . . it validates every reason I had for walking out on the contest with the guys. Shit. Just give me a second,” Zane says and I watch his very fine backside retreat into the villa on the screen in front of me. It must be pretty cool for him to be going to this much effort.
When it takes more than a second, I lean my head back on the chair and close my eyes.
“I think I’ve just about got it.”
“Mmm-hmm. Just tell me when and I’ll open my eyes because this sun feels way too good.”
