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10: The Swim

Author: Gracie Mackintosh
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56
From what I understood, we only had a few days left of our honeymoon. Armani tried to avoid answering whenever I asked about when we would be going back, though I didn't know why, so at some point, I stopped asking.

He'd been slightly busier than usual today and had been missing since dinner, which was two hours ago. Sitting in the living room watching a nature documentary on TV, I was acutely aware of Bill standing outside likely cold, watching over the house and therefore me. I'd tried to invite him in but he said it was his duty to keep an eye on the house's surroundings, so I eventually just let it go and worried about him in silence.

When I heard the front door open, I turned to see Armani dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, a shockingly casual attire that I'd only seen one other time during this trip. He walked over to me on the couch and sat down without a word, stretching his legs out onto an ottoman that I couldn't physically reach if I tried.

I opened my mouth t
Gracie Mackintosh

There we have it, Armani and Rosanna enjoying each other's company in a slightly more... explicit situation. But you're gonna have to wait if you're looking for smut, that'll come muuuuuch later (or will it). Thanks for reading, - Gracie.

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  • Faking It   11: The Return

    Of course, I knew someday I’d have to go back to my former life, but I didn’t expect it to be so sudden. We’d planned to stay for another week in Italy, when Armani excused himself from lunch to take a phone call and returned with an expression on his face I could only describe as frustrated. His father needed him back home for business, so all I could do was faintly smile, finish my lunch alone and go back to a packed-up house. Armani was already on the driveway looking down at his phone, the convertible’s trunk left open to display most of the belongings we’d come with. He glanced up as he heard Bill’s car but didn’t make a move toward us. I took the moment to look to the side at the bodyguard who’d refused to leave my side out of the house. Bill pulled up the handbrake and reached for the door, but I quickly said, “Bill? Are you c-coming with us?” He glanced back at me, hesitation written over his face. I’d never seen him less than happy, though something about this country bro

  • Faking It   12: The Move

    “H-Home… with… you…?”“Yes.”“B-But-”“Rose…” Armani leaned forward to grasp my attention with a hardened look I’d yet to see on his face. His jaw was set, his eyes lowered slightly; there was to be no negotiation, but I simply couldn’t comprehend the fact I’d be leaving the only house I’d ever known. “I know your father has kept you rather sheltered — everyone knows, actually. Now we are supposed to be married, don’t you think it would be strange if we didn’t live together?”“How would a-anyone know?” I whispered, afraid I would upset him. His expression eased, however, and I felt a part of me relax, too as he reclined back again to put some distance between us. “Your father has many guests at his house and your sisters aren’t exactly good at keeping secrets. Someone would find out who isn’t supposed to, which would cause some issues, to say the least.”I wanted to ask what could possibly go wrong but this time I kept my mouth shut. I looked away to my lap where my hands were subcon

  • Faking It   13: The House

    Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit. Feeling a bit like we were touring a celebrity home rather than his own, I followed Armani to a long hallway of doors on the second floor, which was a lot smaller than the ground, until we reached two at the very end. Both were double, made of wood but sturdy and thick. “These are our rooms,” he told me, then led me into one of them. “Your sisters thought you’d like this one best.”The bedroom in question was already furnished like most of the house but none of that grabbed my

  • Faking It   14: The Backstory

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  • Faking It   15: The Bedhead

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  • Faking It   16: The Cartellis

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  • Faking It   21: The Bonding

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  • Faking It   18: The Surprise

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  • Faking It   17: The Rules

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  • Faking It   16: The Cartellis

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  • Faking It   15: The Bedhead

    Unable to believe Bill’s story, I immediately got to work. Despite his protests, I marched into the kitchen to make food and leaned on the lessons my grandfather had given me: Italian cooking. Bill continued to dispute that I didn’t have to do anything for him, but even my heart felt heavy after hearing what he’d been through and I wasn’t about to let him go back to the annex alone. We ate lunch together at the kitchen island and he told me a little more about the various stages of his employment with the Cartellis. I listened eagerly to every word, until afternoon crept toward evening. It was only as I heard an engine outside that I remembered I had a husband who hadn’t been home all day. Bill politely smiled at me and stood to leave, informing me of where he would be yet again if I needed him. I resisted the urge to tell him I wanted him to stay, and turned toward the door as Armani stepped through. “Mr Cartelli,” said Bill, nodding on his way past. “Bill.” Armani’s head twis

  • Faking It   14: The Backstory

    It took only one day for Armani’s duties to call him. I should have been used to it by now after my father’s consistently busy schedule, but I wasn’t and a part of me already missed his company. We hadn’t done much the day before, merely hanging out in the same room as we had for most of our honeymoon. Ultimately, it wouldn’t be all that different today — well, that was what I thought. Shortly after I’d eaten breakfast and wandered into the living room, I heard a door opening inside the house and a small part of me panicked. Then a familiar face twisted into a slight smile. “Oh,” I whispered, “I-I didn’t know were h-here.” Bill motioned behind him at what I understood to be just a little hallway to a utility room, as Armani had informed me during our tour. “It’s safer if I live in the house, Mrs Cartelli.” “In the house?” He nodded. “There’s an annex, of sorts, just down this hallway with everything I need.”That felt wrong. Didn’t Bill have something he’d much prefer doing? If

  • Faking It   13: The House

    Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit. Feeling a bit like we were touring a celebrity home rather than his own, I followed Armani to a long hallway of doors on the second floor, which was a lot smaller than the ground, until we reached two at the very end. Both were double, made of wood but sturdy and thick. “These are our rooms,” he told me, then led me into one of them. “Your sisters thought you’d like this one best.”The bedroom in question was already furnished like most of the house but none of that grabbed my

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