Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

next to Savage in the backseat of a large, black SUV with tinted windows, headed toward whatever home the producers have secured as our fake love nest for the next three months. The same driver and bodyguard from yesterday are seated up front. Savage is looking out the window on his side of the car. And I’m freaking out.

Which parts of Savage’s speech during the press conference—the one where he itemized all the things he supposedly “loves” about me—were based in truth? For my part, every word I said about Savage in my speech was tethered to truth. I don’t love Savage, obviously, but now that I know about his devotion to his ailing grandma—like, seriously, where did that come from?—I realize he’s not quite the monster I’d come to believe by the end of the tour. In fact, I think he might be a whole lot more like the dude I shared a bottle of whiskey with in Providence, than the asshole who tore me a new one in Atlanta.

Also, those two kisses Savage and I shared during the press conference are messing with my head. I’ve never swooned so hard in my life as I did during those kisses! My brain knew it was all for show, but my heart exploded like a nuclear bomb. I felt urgency and need in Savage’s lips and tongue. I felt passion. And now, as I sit here next to Savage, driving to who-knows-where, I’m realizing, much to my dismay, I’m in for a very confusing three months, exactly as Aloha warned.

I look at Savage sitting next to me to find him tapping on his phone with a cute little smile on his face—the kind of grin I’ve seen on him only when he’s interacting with one of his bandmates, but especially with Kendrick or Ruby.

“Are you texting with Kendrick?” I venture, looking for any excuse to start a conversation.

Savage looks up, still looking adorable. “My cousin, Sasha. She lives with our grandmother in Chicago. They watched the press conference and now my cousin is texting in all caps.” He snorts. “She’s so funny. Both Sasha and my grandma are losing it about the ‘amazing girlfriend’ I’ve never bothered to tell them about.”

I glance at the two men at the front of the car and lean in to whisper. Surely, our companions are bound by an ironclad non-disclosure agreement, but better safe than sorry. “What are you telling your family about our ‘relationship’?”

Savage flushes a deep crimson, telegraphing the answer to my question is: I’ve let them believe we’re an actual couple.

“You haven’t told them the truth?” I whisper.

He shakes his head, looking sheepish. “I was going to give my cousin a heads-up about us before the press conference, but I got distracted when I ran into Kendrick and found out he’d sent you the album. And now, they’re both so excited about everything . . .” He exhales. “Mimi—my grandma—she’s my father’s mother—she always says she wants me to settle down and find the ‘great love of my life,’ the kind she had with her husband, Jasper, who died young. Apparently, after watching the press conference, Mimi told Sasha she felt like she could finally stop worrying about me, now that I’ve found a woman who can ‘see past all that silly rock star business’ to the ‘real me.’” He chuckles. “Apparently, that comment you made about my laugh ‘parting the clouds,’ or whatever you said, made quite an impression on Mimi.”

I chuckle with him. “Honestly, I’m relieved you haven’t told your family the truth about us. It makes it a whole lot easier for me to ask you to lie to my family about us for the next three months.”

Savage laughs. “You haven’t told your family the truth, either?”

I shake my head. “I could tell my sister, but my mom is always on me about my supposedly horrible taste in men. I’m hoping our ‘blissful relationship’ will give me a breather from constantly hearing about how I need to stop falling for jerks and find myself someone ‘nice’ who ‘treats me right.’”

“Your supposedly horrible taste in men?” Savage scoffs. “If Malik is any indication, there’s no ‘supposedly’ about it, Fitzy.”

I bite back a smile. Is it wrong of me to continue letting Savage think I had an actual relationship with Malik—and even more so that said relationship lasted well beyond Malik’s horrible behavior in New York? If so, I don’t want to be right. Not when Savage banged that flirty waitress in New York the very same night I kicked Malik to the curb.

“Are you sure your mom wouldn’t think I’m further evidence of your horrible taste in men?” Savage asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Well, yes, normally you would be. You’re exactly my type—which isn’t a compliment. But after all that amazing stuff you said about me during the press conference, my mother and sister are convinced I’ve finally found the perfect man who totally gets the real me. So, if you don’t mind, I’d be grateful for you to play along whenever I talk to my family, in exchange for me playing along when you talk to yours.”

“Deal. Although I should mention, I sing Mimi to sleep on FaceTime, pretty much every night when I’m not on tour.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. Don’t worry. I’d love to say hi to your grandma, every single night.”

Savage shoots me a smolder that flash-melts my panties. “Thank you.”

“You’re paying me two million bucks. It’s the least I can do.”

Savage grabs my hand. “Let’s not talk about the money anymore, okay? I’m over it. Your agent was right—this is an equal partnership. I was an asshole to whine about it.”

I look into his dark eyes, feeling my heart beating like a hummingbird’s. “No, you weren’t. It was a huge and unexpected pay cut for you. It was only natural for you to feel upset about it. I tell you what. To help you recoup some of the money you’re paying to me, why don’t