Aged in the Dark: Her Fake Boyfriend Claims Her Ass

The vineyard sprawled across the hills like a dark green secret, its stone mansion glowing with low lantern light as Delphine’s car crunched up the long gravel drive. At forty-two she still carried the sharp elegance of a woman who had once been the beauty of every room, now tempered by divorce and the quiet hunger that came with it. Beside her sat Sergio, twenty-eight, all long athlete’s muscle under a crisp open-collar shirt, dark hair falling just enough to make him look expensive and a little dangerous. She had hired him three days ago through a discreet agency that specialized in beautiful young men who knew how to smile on cue. The fee had been steep. The way her stomach fluttered when he looked at her was steeper still.

“Remember,” she murmured as they stepped out into the cool evening air, “we’ve been together eight months. You met my sister Colette once in the city. You’re charming, a little possessive, and you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Sergio’s mouth curved. “I won’t have to pretend about the last part.” His voice was low, warm, already intimate. He offered his arm and she took it, feeling the solid heat of his bicep against her bare skin. The sleeveless silk dress she wore left her shoulders free; the night breeze kissed the back of her neck and she shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with temperature.

Inside, the great hall smelled of oak barrels and crushed grapes. Crystal glasses chimed. Franklin, her silver-haired uncle, spotted them first and raised an eyebrow that could cut glass. “Delphine. And this must be the mysterious younger man.”