The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella)
Chapter 76 Seventy Six

When Isabelle appeared from the bedroom, Jacob picked up the bouquet of flowers he had bought and presented them to her.

He had been quite straightforward with his selection-red roses.

"For you," he said, holding the bouquet out to her.

She met his gaze before looking down at the flowers. 'You didn't—”

"Yes I did," he interrupted her, knowing what she was going to say. "I wanted to. A man can get his beautiful wife flowers whenever he feels like, right?"

A shy smile graced her lips as she took the flowers. "Thank you." She held them to her nose. "They are beautiful. And they smell great."

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Like you."

She chuckled. "You're such a sweet talker."

"It's all true," he said. Reaching into the gift bag, he produced the box of chocolates. "I hope you'll like these too."

Her eyes widened in delight at the sight of the box. "Oh, thank you!"

He noted somewhere in his brain that she was a fan of dark chocolate. Finally, he produced the wine. "Let's have a drink together tonight," he said.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. "We have work tomorrow."

He grinned, remembering the last time she had her way with a bottle of wine. "Just a glass," he told her. "I'll be your chaperone, since you tend to misbehave around a bottle of wine," he teased. "I wouldn't on a work night," she claimed.

He arched his brow. "If I recall correctly, you had work the next day." He remembered well enough, actually. The next day had been Monday, and she had worn a high-necked dress to hide the hickeys he had given her.

"That doesn't count," she said. "It was a Sunday. Still the weekend."

"If you say so," he humoured her.

"I'll put these away," she said, going back to her bedroom with the flowers and chocolates.

He followed her, but went into his own bedroom to change. Tonight, they would make dinner together.

***

Isabelle was surprised when Jacob showed up in the kitchen, sleeves rolled and ready for work.

"What are we making?" he asked, scanning the ingredients she had placed on the counter.

"You should rest and leave this to me," she told him. "It isn't much work."

"I came home early to spend time with you," he reminded her. His eyes shifted to the chicken on the counter. "I can chop some vegetables while you prepare the chicken." She knew better than to argue with him, so she let him join her.

They worked well together, and within an hour, they were setting the table. Everything was perfect, and she wished it could always be like this. But she knew it couldn't.

She had already waited too long to tell him that there couldn't be a repeat of last night. And she hadn't exactly been discouraging him. When he had shown up earlier at her door and kissed her, she had accepted it like she had been waiting for it all day.

And then he gave her flowers and chocolates...

She was sure that he now considered them a real couple.

But how could they be a real couple when the very reason they were together was built on a lie?

She planned to tell him her thoughts after dinner. That way, she wouldn't ruin such a beautiful dinner, and he would have the night to let it sink in. By morning, they should be back to their old lives.

When they were done with dinner, he brought out the wine he had bought and poured two glasses. He put the bottle away, as if getting rid of any temptation to drink more. She was secretly glad for that. With how nervous she was becoming by the minute, she didn't trust herself to not seek liquid courage.

"We are a real couple now, right?" Jacob asked the moment she took a sip of the wine, and she almost choked on the drink.

It looked like she didn't have to worry about how to broach the subject to him.

She placed her glass down on the table and stared at the tablecloth. Fidgeting with the stem of her glass, she said, "I can't." "What?" His voice had an edge. "You can't be in a real relationship with me?"

"I shouldn't have slept with you-"

"Look at me, Isabelle," he demanded.

She took a deep breath and looked at him.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged and dropped her eyes again. "I just can't."

"Bullshit," he growled, and then the sound of his chair scraping on the floor as he stood up filled the room. He came around the table to her side and took hold of her arm. She let go of her wine glass just in time as he pulled her to her feet. Holding both of her arms in his hands, he bent his head to look at her face. "You wanted what happened last night, and you enjoyed it."

She swallowed. "Yes, but... That was just sex. I'm just your pretend wife."

"And you don't want to be my real wife?" he asked.

She sighed and stared at the floor.

"Why? You don't like me?"

"I do."

"What, then?" He released her arm and used his hand to lift her face. "Why are you doing this to me, Bella? I love you."

Her stomach twisted in panic, longing, and a host of other feelings she couldn't decipher. Why would he say that?

"I'm in love with you," he added, "and I'm done playing this pretend game with you. I want to call you mine and treat you like my wife. I can't stand not being able to show you my feelings anymore." She shook her head, jerking her face from his grip. He couldn't mean that. He couldn't be in love with her.

"You can't," she whispered.

"I do," he told her. "These have been the best twenty-four hours of my life, and I'm not ready for this to end. I know you have feelings for me too, Isabelle. Why are you saying no? Why do you always run from me?"

"You don't even know me."

"I know enough, and what I don't, I can't wait to replace out. I know our marriage wasn't our choice, but you know that what happens after is up to us, right? Since we have developed feelings for each other, let's explore them."

She licked her lips. "I don't have feelings for you. I told you, last night was just-"

"Don't lie to me, Isabelle. I might not be able to read your mind, or see your heart, but you've shown me enough for me to know it wasn't just sex."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He let out a growl of frustration. "Why are you so stubborn? What do you hate so much about me that you don't want to consider being with me in a real relationship? What do I need to do?"

She lowered her head as she frowned. Her heart thudded in her chest as she considered her options. She knew she couldn't replace it in herself to keep lying to him if she agreed to be a real couple.

And she knew that telling him the truth would take off a huge burden off her shoulder. And it was then that she realised her fear of telling him the truth wasn't related to Ruth anymore.

After all, her parents had long made it clear that they wouldn't keep their promise. And, while they would suffer the consequences once he knew the truth, it didn't concern her anymore. Not as much as losing his trust and hurting him did.

Her biggest fear was that he would hate her. She would deserve it, but she couldn't even stomach the thought of it coming true.

"I don't hate you," she told him. If she couldn't tell him the truth yet, at least she could tell him that much.

He lifted her face again. "Then love me."

She couldn't look away. Normally, she would have avoided the intensity in his eyes, but this time, she just couldn't look away. She caught all the emotions swirling in them, ranging from hope to hurt. She didn't want to hurt him. But how could she give him hope?

She needed time. Time to think. Time to gather the courage to reveal the truth to him. Once that was out of the way, if there was hope for them after that, she would be the luckiest woman in the world. Because she couldn't think of any other reason to not say yes to him.

His eyebrows drew together. "Are you in love with someone else? Did you have a boyfriend when we got married?"

Before he slept with her sister, yes.

She shook her head. "No. No."

"So it's not that your heart is elsewhere," he commented. His brow creased further. "But it's not with me either." His jaw tensed. "Tell me, am I wrong? Thinking that you have feelings for me?"

Her heart squeezed into a little ball. This was her chance to keep him at a distance. If she could make him believe that she really wasn't interested in him romantically, maybe he would quit pursuing her.

But she couldn't replace the words to say it. And she knew it was because she was aware it would hurt him.

"I need time," she said.

"Time?"

She nodded. "I need to...there are some things I need to think about."

"Okay!" he agreed automatically. "I can give you time." There was now more hope swirling in his eyes. He caressed her cheeks with the back of his hand. "Take all the time you need, Isabelle. Just don't push me away, please."

She nodded. God, she wanted to hug him so bad.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

It was all she could do to not shout yes.

Wrapping her hands around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. She tasted the wine on his lips, reminding her of their forgotten drinks.

His arms shifted to wrap around the middle of her body, drawing her close. When he grabbed her thighs in his hands and lifted her to wrap her legs around his waist, she knew this was going all the way.