I Sent My Husband Fake Cheating Proof, He Flew Home Overnight novel · Chapter 2 of 16

Chapter 2: Dinner for Three

Christian takes the fake lover apart over dinner, then offers Hazel a deal: thirty days as his real wife and he'll sign.

"He flew home?" Pippa screamed into the phone. "Overnight? From London?"

"He tore up the papers in front of the housekeeper."

"Oh my God. Oh my God, Hazel."

"He wants Henrik at dinner tomorrow."

The line went silent.

Then I heard Henrik in the background, in Pippa's apartment, eating something crunchy.

"Absolutely not," he said. "I've seen that man on the cover of Forbes. He has a jaw like a shovel."

"You took my two hundred dollars," I said.

"For photos. Not for dinner with a billionaire who flies his own plane."

Pippa took the phone into another room.

"He'll do it," she whispered. "I'll make him. What do we need him to know?"

We spent four hours on a video call.

How we met: a gallery opening in Chelsea.

My favorite color: green.

My favorite food: Pippa's lasagna.

Where I have a mole: left shoulder.

Henrik wrote it all on his hand in ballpoint.

Christian didn't go to the office that day.

He didn't go the next day either.

He worked in the dining room with his laptop open and his door open.

Every time I walked past, his eyes lifted and followed me down the hall.

At six the next evening he was in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up.

I had never seen Christian Kane cook.

I didn't know he could.

He moved around the stove.

Lamb, rosemary, little potatoes cracking in the oven.

"You told Mrs. Dunleavy to go home," I said.

"I wanted it to be just the three of us."

The doorbell rang at 7:01.

Henrik stood on the step in a borrowed blazer, holding a bottle of wine with the price tag still on it.

His hand was still smudged blue with my biography.

Christian opened the door before I could.

"You must be Henrik."

"Hi. Yes. Hello, sir."

"Christian's fine." He took the wine and read the tag. "Eleven ninety-nine. Thoughtful."

Henrik laughed too loudly.

We sat at the long table.

Christian served Henrik first.

Then he sat down across from us, poured himself a glass of water, and smiled.

It was the first time I'd seen him smile in months.

It was terrifying.

"So," Christian said. "How did you two meet?"

"Gallery," Henrik said. "In Chelsea. She was looking at a painting of a horse."

We had agreed on a painting of a lighthouse.

"A horse," Christian repeated.

"A lighthouse," I said. "With a horse. Near it."

Christian nodded.

"What's her favorite color?"

"Green."

"Which green?"

Henrik looked at me.

I looked at my plate.

"The color of her eyes," Christian said gently. "Grey-green. Like a creek in March. You'd know that, if you'd spent a year looking at her."

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

He had never once said anything about my eyes.

Henrik cleared his throat.

"I'm more of a big-picture guy."

"Clearly."

Dessert was a coffee cake.

Henrik, trying to recover, cut the first slice and put it on my plate with a flourish.

"For my girl."

Christian reached across the table and took the plate away.

He didn't raise his voice.

"She's allergic to walnuts," he said.

"The last time she ate one, her throat closed in the back of a cab on Canal Street."

"She was in the hospital for two nights."

I stared at him.

That had happened eight months ago.

He'd been in Singapore.

I'd never told him.

"I'm sorry," Henrik stammered. "I forgot. I just forgot."

"You forgot," Christian said, "that the woman you love can die from cake."

Nobody spoke.

The clock over the sideboard ticked loudly.

Henrik stood up so fast his chair scraped.

"I should go. Early audition. Thank you for the lamb, it was really, really good."

Christian walked him to the door.

I followed, because I couldn't not.

On the step, Christian put one hand on the doorframe and leaned down.

He said it quietly, but the street was quiet too, and I heard every word.

"I don't know what she's paying you."

Henrik went pale.

"But touch my wife again, and the only part you'll ever get is a dead body on a crime show."

He shut the door.

Then he turned around and looked at me in the hallway.

"How did you know about the walnuts?" I whispered.

"The hospital called me. I'm your emergency contact."

"You didn't come."

"I was on a plane before they finished the sentence. You'd been discharged by the time I landed."

"You were asleep. You didn't want me, so I left."

I couldn't breathe.

"You still want the divorce?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and it came out shaky.

He nodded slowly.

"Then here's my offer."

He came closer.

One step.

Then another, until my back touched the wall.

"Thirty days," Christian said.

"You give me thirty days as my wife. My real wife. Not the woman who says good night through a closed door."

"And then?"

"And then, if you still want him, I'll sign anything you put in front of me."

← Chapter 1 · All chapters · Chapter 3 →

Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend