One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance

I wheeled my carry-on across the polished floors of SeaTac, checking my ticket stub for the third time since I walked through security. I wasn’t nervous—at least that was what I kept telling myself.

It was just a business trip. No big deal. Just because Fox was ridiculously hot and there was some serious chemistry between us, it meant nothing. We were going to be on a packed plane. We were staying in separate rooms. There was nothing to be weirded out about.

The familiar buzz of the airport filled my ears. Even this late at night, the typical sound of rolling suitcases, footsteps and rushed conversations echoed around the airport. I always felt a bit out of place in airports, like I didn’t belong to the crowd of seasoned travelers who moved with purpose and ease.

I was taking a carry-on and nothing else. I didn’t want to risk my luggage getting lost. That would be a disaster.

As I made my way toward the gate, I caught sight of a bar tucked into the corner. I wasn’t planning on stopping until I noticed a familiar silhouette sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. Fox. Of course he was here early, like he had nowhere else he needed to be. For a split second, I considered walking right past him, hoping he wouldn’t see me. But that felt childish considering we were going to be on the same plane. The memory of that moment in the elevator, the one that had left me feeling all sorts of conflicted, nudged me forward. Was I up for the challenge?

A sly smile crept onto my face. Decision made, I veered toward the bar and slid onto the stool next to Fox. He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“Natalia,” he greeted, a small, amused smile on his lips. “Of all the bars in all the world, you walk into mine.”

“It’s right by the gate,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re here early.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, please. Red wine.”

He gave me a strange look, his expression flickering with something like recognition, before he snapped out of it and ordered the drink.

I might have needed two drinks. I looked at the ticket stub once again.

“You nervous?” he asked.

I gave a small, involuntary laugh, rolling the ticket stub between my fingers. “Is it that obvious?”

He shrugged. “Just a hunch. You’ve been staring at that ticket like it’s a puzzle you’re trying to solve.”

I sighed. “I hate flying. Always have. It’s irrational, but it is what it is.”

“Doesn’t sound irrational to me,” he said, surprising me. “I’m not a big fan either.”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Really? You travel all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” he said simply before taking a sip of his beer. “I just pretend I do.”

I took a long drink of my wine. It eased a bit of the tension in my chest, but sitting next to Fox did the opposite.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a private jet,” I said.

He scoffed. “Have you seen the statistics on those? How many celebrities and rich people die in crashes? No thank you. I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid.”

I chuckled, surprised by his candidness. “So, you’re afraid of heights?”

“No,” he said quickly, looking straight at me. “I don’t fear heights. What I fear is falling ten thousand feet out of the sky.”

“Fair enough.” I took another sip of my wine, more out of necessity now than anything else.

“Have you flown private?” he asked.

“A few times.”

“Did you like it?”

“It wasn’t bad,” I said, not wanting to get into that discussion. That was an old life.

He seemed to sense my lack of interest in discussing flying private or otherwise. We settled into a comfortable silence. The bar wasn’t too busy. Travelers waiting for their red eyes congregated around the place. I was hoping the wine would help me sleep on the flight.

We finished our drinks mostly in silence, both of us stealing glances but not saying much. I felt oddly relieved when the boarding call crackled over the loudspeaker.

“Finally,” I muttered, standing up. Fox tossed a few bills on the bar and gestured for me to lead the way. The butterflies in my stomach had nothing to do with the flight.

The plan was to sleep for the two-hour flight to California. I had even packed a neck pillow for once, hoping to knock myself out as soon as I found my seat. But of course, as soon as we settled in and taxied out, the captain announced we’d be stuck on the tarmac due to weather delays.

“Great,” I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat. “Fantastic.”

Fox glanced at me from the seat beside mine, one eyebrow raised. “You okay?”

“Yeah, when I said I didn’t like flying, I might have understated it a bit. I’m not a great flyer. I’m usually worse when I know I can’t get off the plane. I get a little claustrophobic. It’s silly, I know, but I just get in my head about stuff.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I get it. Just try to relax. It’s like ripping off a band-aid. Once we’re in the air, it’s usually fine.”

“Usually.”

“I’ll get us another drink,” he said.

“Will they offer drink service?”

“They will,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead, I gave him a tight smile. “We’ll see.”

The rain battered against the ceiling as we sat there, waiting. Fortunately, he did manage to get us a drink. Only one. The flight attendants did not want to be trapped on the tarmac with a bunch of drunk passengers. That was a good thing because I didn’t want to be trapped in a tin can with a bunch of drunks either.

“Can we get a blanket?” Fox asked the attendant.

She smiled. “Of course.”

I assumed he was chilly. When the attendant brought it back, he unfolded it and covered me with it. “Lean back and try to get some rest,” he said. “When all these eggheads get together, it can get pretty wild.”

There was no way I was going to fall asleep with my nerves fried and continuing to fry even more. But eventually I dozed off, exhaustion and the wine finally taking over. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I woke up, but when I opened my eyes, the plane was in the air, and it was bouncing like a rubber ball in a dryer.

I grabbed the armrest with one hand and Fox’s hand with the other before I even realized what I was doing.

He opened one eye, peeking at me with a lazy smile. “You good?”

I didn’t let go of his hand, but I tried to cover the nerves with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry. Turbulence isn’t my thing.”

He smiled. “Mine either. What a night to fly.”

“So glad you insisted I come along with you,” I said dryly.

“I’ll tell you about the worst flight I’ve ever been on,” he said. “Unless it will just make things worse.”

“Go for it,” I said, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand.

“It was a business trip to Anchorage,” he said. “I had never been. I pictured this frozen wasteland, but it’s actually beautiful once you get past the mountains. There’s this one highway that connects all these tiny towns—it’s like strings of lights in the middle of nowhere.”

I could almost picture it, his voice painting the scene for me. “But the approach, I could have done without that.”

“What do you mean?”

“The plane had to turn in this almost perfect circle. We flew so close to the water I was sure we were about to plunge right in. It was the worst turbulence I’ve ever felt. I kept thinking we were going to have one of those water landings. I was trying to remember what they said about the floatation device. I was like was it my seat or was it under my seat. Since then, I always pay attention during the safety briefing before the flight.”

I gripped his hand tighter as the plane jolted again. “Was the turbulence worse than this?”

“Oh, yeah. The guy next to me said you can tell who’s a local and who’s a tourist based on their reaction. All the locals were casually gathering their things, chatting, not even buckled in. Meanwhile, the tourists—me included—were white-knuckling it, saying our prayers.”

I laughed despite myself, imagining Fox in that situation, trying to play it cool while internally panicking. He grinned at me, watching me laugh with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“What?” I asked, catching my breath.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh before,” he said softly. “I like it.”

The warmth in his eyes made me realize something else. I was still holding his hand.

My heart stuttered. I let go, turning to look out the window, embarrassed by how much I liked the way his hand felt in mine.

“So, did you land okay?” I asked. When he looked at me with confusion, I smiled. “In Alaska?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a nod. “Cake. Not perfect but any landing you can walk away from is a good one.”

The turbulence eventually eased, and the rest of the flight was relatively smooth. I managed to relax a bit. I was grateful for his distraction. It worked. I was able to close my eyes. Not sleep but simply chill without feeling like I was going to die at any second.

We landed in California much later than initially planned thanks to sitting on the tarmac for an hour. I followed Fox through the terminal to the parking garage to pick up the rental car.

He yawned a couple of times as we drove through the deserted streets to the hotel. We checked in, got our keys, and went up to our floor without saying a word. There was a strange feeling in my belly. As we walked down the quiet hallway, I kept expecting something to happen. I didn’t know what, but there was tension.

He stopped in front of my room. I stared into his eyes and waited for something. “We’ll link up tomorrow for the first part of the convention,” he said. “Get some rest, okay? Sleep in.”

“Okay. Sleep well.”

I opened my door and stepped into my room. He walked across the hall and disappeared inside without a second glance. Why did I feel like I wanted more? He was right there, close enough to touch, yet it felt like he’d slammed a door between us.

I dropped my bag onto the bed in my room and sat down. All I could think about was the man twenty feet away. He was so close but yet so far.

A terrifying thought struck me then, one I wasn’t prepared to confront.

I wanted Fox.

Oh, no.

I was supposed to keep my guard up, supposed to be the one who had everything under control. But he had a way of disarming me, of making me forget the walls I’d built up so carefully. He made me laugh when I didn’t want to, made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I was not ready for a man in my life. No way. Not again.

With a frustrated groan, I flopped back onto the bed, covering my face with my hands. Tomorrow would be a long day. I needed to get a grip. I couldn’t afford to get swept up in whatever this was—whatever Fox was.

But as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but replay his smile in my mind, the way he looked at me like I was someone he wanted to know. And the worst part was, I wanted to let him.

I was in trouble. Big trouble.