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you from the beginning, you would have said no, as two other people did before," Damian admitted with a sigh. I opened my mouth in disbelief.

"So I'm your third choice!" I exclaimed hitting him in the arm. I heard the hiss of one of the hostesses scolding me.

Great, now they reprimand me like a little girl making a mess.

"I admit you weren't my first choice," he said in a low voice. "But I must say in my defense that at that moment I hadn’t met you yet."

Well, that could be true.

"And at what point did you think it would be a good idea since we obviously barely know each other? I don't even know what your favorite colour is, your favourite dish or your shoe size. How do you think our staging can work?" I moaned feeling a pressure in my chest that occasionally increased in intensity and was not due to the acceleration of the plane that was gaining altitude.

"People generally believe what you make believable," he replied without further ado and took one of the magazines that was on the back of the seat in front of him to have a look at it.

"I am on the verge of collapse, although it does not involve me directly, and you stay there so calm," I said touching my forehead with my right hand trying to calm down.

"These are people you don't know. Why do you care what they may think of you?"

"They expect you to appear with a stunning blonde. A Russian model with enviable measurements and without an ounce of cellulite, who does not take off her stilettos even when she sleeps and who doesn't know what it is to wear a ponytail because she hasn't had time to wash her hair. How can you expect me not to care about what they think? They will surely think you found me in a garbage bin."

He began to laugh as hard as he could in the silence that reigned on the plane.

Great, he even laughs in my face.

"I never thought that a person like you could think so badly of herself," he declared with some seriousness. "I think that being such a control freak made you forget who you really are."

"That's why I say that I'm a realistic person," I answered staring at him.

"Well, if you were realistic, you would see that you are absolutely lovely, Miss Acosta."

At that moment I noticed how all the tension was gone and my heartbeat began to accelerate.

"I don't... I don't..."

"It won't be very difficult. If you don't like me, you can always pretend. Luckily there won't be much time to spend with them. "

Pretend I didn't like him? Adonis probably did not realize that if my attraction for him had been the result of pretending, I could have opened an acting school.

"Okay," I finally said because I didn't know what to add.

You're so handsome that you'd convert even a lesbian.

"Thank God. You have no idea what burden you took off my shoulders now that you know everything," he said.

At that moment I pondered over the possibility that his way of acting was motivated solely by his desire to make me accept everything. And that Damian behaved like this only to achieve his goal and later would abandon me like a cigarette butt and tear up the contract of my promotion. Was I maybe creating a problem that didn't exist? I wouldn't have had any answer until Monday. For the moment I didn't know if everything he had told me, all his actions and all his dedication were based on one goal: to make me accept that pantomime as his girlfriend.

I regretted analyzing everything as always, not being able to get carried away for once in my life and let things take their course. After all, what would have changed? I could have enjoyed the moment anyway, right?

Let it all go to hell! Let it all happen, including sleeping with him that very night as if it were part of a plot. I too wanted my share of the cake. Even if he wanted to use me only for that, I would use him too, if necessary.

Chapter IX

After we landed at Edinburgh airport we headed to a car rental.

"Did you rent a car?" I asked to break the awkward silence that had accompanied us during the flight.

"Yes, because the ceremony venue is a bit far from the city."

"Oh, good," I said without knowing where we were headed. "Where are they going to celebrate the wedding?" I asked.

"In an old building converted into a hotel. It is a beautiful large villa overlooking the sea and close to a cliff."

"Is one of the newlyweds Scottish? Otherwise I guess they would not have chosen to get married here," I said observing the people who passed by, dressed in a picturesque way.

"The groom's family is of Scottish origin and is related to the local nobility."

Ouch, ouch, ouch! Now I understand why she decided to replace you, the shameless one!

"Nobility?" I asked in a pitch higher than usual. "Is he a prince or something like that?"

"In due time Michael will inherit a sort of marquisate."

Fancy that! A marquis! That bitch left him for a marquis! Such an event would have put a strain on anyone's self-esteem.

"And may I know how you became the best friend of a marquis?" I sneered with a smile. I would have never mentioned his ex or ask her name, even though "scruffy blonde" would have been perfect: in my fictional universe she was necessarily blonde.

"We studied at the same college and went to the same university together. We have known each other for many years: for me he is like a brother."

"How about that! What a good brother who decided to marry your

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