Don’t Pretend I’m Yours Read Online Natasha Anders

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
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Ben bent at the waist to pick the trembling dog up and tuck it close to his chest, with its compact body draped over his forearm. It was a black and white short haired Chihuahua, and it was wearing a pink sweater with a pink, sparkly collar.

“This is Fifi. She’s a two-year-old rescue.” The tiny dog’s tongue was hanging out the side of her mouth and she appeared to be wall-eyed. Typical Chihuahua, really. Obnoxiously cute. “I confess, I’d planned to adopt something a little more robust, but Fifi had just been surrendered to the shelter a few days before. Her previous person died and she was bounced around from family member to family member for a few months before they gave her up. She looked so fucking out of place there. She was wearing little legwarmers and a fluffy blue sweater. I don’t know how the hell it happened, but three days later she was mine. And she came with all these accessories. I figured she was used to her creature comforts, and her designer wear, and far be it from me to deprive her of them.”

“You’re serious?” Lilah asked, unable to resist scratching behind Fifi’s adorable pointy ears.

“Yes. I’ve had her for nearly two weeks.”

“Who takes care of her when you’re at work?” His cheeks went ruddy and he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Uh, she’s been coming to the office with me. Just until we can figure out a more permanent solution. She’s a good dog, very obedient, sleeps under my desk most of the day, quiet as a mouse.”

Lilah had no idea how to respond to this development and stared at him in confused consternation. The thought of Ben doing his high-powered alpha executive thing, with a tiny dog snoozing under his desk, was a little incongruous to say the least.

And also charming as hell.

“What made you decide to get a dog?” she asked on a despairing whisper and he swallowed, his hold on the dog tightening slightly. “And why come here?”

“I came here to commemorate Fifi’s adoption with a photoshoot…” he said and then swallowed, before adding, “And because I miss you.”

“There are other really good pet photographers you can try,” she said, ignoring the last. “I could give you their details.”

“I don’t want anyone else, Lilah. I’ve Googled you. I’ve seen what you can do and I’m so fucking ashamed I never bothered looking you up before. Because your work is fantastic and you’re the only one want.”

“I’m afraid you can’t have me,” she whispered, and he flinched, his face paling.

“Lilah, I know I’ve made mistakes, and I understand why you’re angry with me…”

“Ben, I don’t think you understand a damned thing. If you did, you would never have come here today. Seeing you… being around you hurts so damned much. And that’s not something that can be changed or fixed. You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, the biggest mistake I ever made, and I want to stay as far away from that mistake as possible.”

She immediately wished back the angry, hurtful words when she saw how they impacted him. He took it like a massive body blow, actually sucked in a pained breath at the shock of it, his face leeched of all color, his lips tightened, but his eyes, which had been hopeful and pleading just moments ago flared and she saw the pain bloom in them for a few brief, revealing seconds, before he iced her out. A frigid shutter coming down to conceal his emotions from her.

“I never meant to hurt you, Lilah. I genuinely thought that you could be happy with me.”

“How could you think that when you were keeping such a massive secret from me?” She shouldn’t have asked that question, she didn’t want to engage him any further on this topic, but her pain demanded explanations. Even when she knew those explanations would only further exacerbate that pain.

“You’re not going to believe me, but those six months before our wedding? I actually thought you knew about Cyrus’s illness. I assumed you agreed to marry me because of that. I thought we had an understanding; we were marrying because it would make Cyrus happy.”

She laughed; the sound high-pitched and hysterical. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the wild sound and stared at him in wide-eyed horror and disbelief.

“You thought I knew?” she asked, the question muffled behind her hand. “I don’t believe that. How could you have thought that? If I’d known, I would have spent more time with him, I would have wanted to spend my every waking moment with him. Instead I spent most of them with you in a series of joyless dates, fooling myself into believing you were falling in love with me. How could you believe such a thing, when I never once talked about my dying grandfather to you in all that time? How could you assume I would prefer spending all those hours in your stilted, forced company instead of with him?”



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