The Surprising Reality

"Of course, if you want sex so much, I'm willing to act like a husband in that manner," he offered.

Isabelle coughed into her glass of water. "No," she said when she recovered. "No thanks. We are only a couple outside this house."

"What, you don't think I can satisfy your needs?" he asked. Women had always flocked to him. A woman of her character, who was known to have no shortage of lovers, must surely appreciate what he was offering.

"As you have mentioned," she told him, "we are only pretending to be a couple. I'll do well in that matter. Don't worry, I won't be involved in any relations with anyone as long as I'm your wife. Just don't meddle in my life."

Isabelle gobbled down her water and turned away from him as she placed the glass back. The nerve of him to talk to her as if she was a cheater when he was the one everyone knew was à womaniser. He knew nothing about her. And yet, it appeared that he had already pegged her as someone who would have sex with him when they were only pretending to be a couple. Ah! If anything, she should be the one warning him against embarrassing her by keeping up with his reckless lifestyle.

Jacob did not miss the sharpness in Isabelle's voice as she told him she would adhere to his demands. She couldn't be offended, could she? It was no secret that she slept around with many men-He frowned. Why wasn't anything adding up? At first, he had thought that she was acting to fool him into thinking she was someone she was not. But, not only had she not complained about being warned about having lovers, but she had also refused his offer to take care of her sexual needs.

Then there was all that blushing, being flustered... And claiming to not mind being married to him. Him, the poor illegitimate son of the Garcias. She, the spoilt first-born daughter of the Cruzes who could date any wealthy bachelor worth millions.

It didn't seem that she would be so willing about the entire arrangement. If anything, she should be looking down on him, telling him that he couldn't tell her how to behave.

Was she really the eldest daughter of the Cruz family who he had received information about?

Rising from the armchair, he approached her. He touched her shoulder when he got to her so that she could face him.

She did, her eyes meeting his. "What?" she asked, sounding a little annoyed. He had really offended her, hadn't he?

"Are you really the eldest daughter of the Cruz family?" he asked, watching her face closely for her reaction.

Isabelle's heart hammered away in her chest. Why was he suddenly asking that? Had she said something to give herself away?

If he found out the truth and cancelled the marriage... No! She couldn't let that happen. If he discovered her family's deceit, her parents would no longer cater for Hannah's treatment.

"Of course I am," she replied, crossing her arms across her chest. "Why would you ask that?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her. It made her even more uneasy.

"You are the Garcias' eldest son, right?" she asked, attempting to shift the attention from her to him.

Jacob shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on his feet. "I am."

She nodded. "Well then, it's all good, right?"

Was it? Jacob wondered as he studied Isabelle.

Knowing that he was going to marry a strange woman to fulfil his mother's wish, he sent someone to investigate the eldest daughter of the Cruzes. He had needed to know about her so he could figure out how to encourage her to divorce him quickly.

But now, he was wondering whether his source had gotten his information

wrong.

When Jacob appeared at the wedding, he was ready to meet a haughty woman who would turn hostile at the sight of their living arrangement. Because according to his source, his intended bride would never settle for such a life.

The reality was turning out to be completely different.

Isabelle was not showing any animosity towards the situation. Did she really not mind being married to a poor man she wasn't even in love with? Was she so devoted to her family that she was willing to sacrifice her own desires to ensure they met their end of the agreement?

Because if that was the case, Jacob was afraid it would be so much harder to get her to divorce him. But that couldn't happen. Whether this woman was who she said she was or not, he didn't care. As long as he was concerned, he had fulfilled his mother's wish and married the eldest daughter of the Cruz family.

Now, all he needed to do was find a way to end the entire thing. What besides passing off as a poor man could make a wealthy heiress divorce you?

"It's all good," he replied finally. "It has been a long day, we should go to sleep."

"Yeah," Isabelle said, then her eyes slid past him to the bed in the room.

Jacob held out one hand to her. "Care to join me?"

She shook her head quickly. "I'll take the sofa."

"The bed is big enough for both of us," he pointed out.

"You're only my husband on paper, Jacob. Other than that, you're a stranger to me. I don't share a bed with strangers."

He took a step towards her, crowding her. "You don't?"

Isabelle swallowed as he stepped closer. "I don't."

"I'll not try to touch you, if that's what you're worried about," he assured her.

Did he really think she would agree to sleep in the same bed with him when they were in a fake marriage? Ah, or was this one of his ploys to seduce her? She had heard that he was the player, after all. And not long ago, he had offered to satisfy her sexual needs...

She cleared her throat and gestured to the sofa. "I'm good with the sofa."

She actually wasn't-after the long day she had had, she was hoping for a good night's rest. Now, not only was she trapped in a room with a strange man, but she also had to make do with a sofa. None of that screamed 'good night's sleep.' Forget having a good rest. She would be lucky if she could get a few hours of shut-eye.

Jacob shook his head and took yet another step towards her. She wished he would stop doing that. It was getting harder to focus on the important things with him getting in her space. The closer he got, the more attuned she became to the scent of his soap, the slight dampness of his hair, the curve of his upper lip...

She shook her head mentally. Those were not the kind of thoughts she was supposed to be having if she was determined to keep everything platonic.

"No, I can't have that, he told her. "If you won't come to bed with me, I'll take the sofa."

Would he really do that?

"No, you don't have to. It's your bed, after all."