Billionaire Bad Boy's Fake Bride: BWWM Romance by Mia Caldwell Page B

tipped off about which vehicle to look for, and they were all crowding around the sedan.
    With a curse, he backed down the street, paying little attention to the reporters trying to block them. Angelina admired his skillful driving as he forced the media to scramble out of the way while driving in reverse and turning a sharp corner. The motion of the car sent her head throbbing again, but the rush of adrenaline tamped down the pain, at least for the moment.
    Once they were back on the city streets, she watched him navigating with confidence and bit her lip. With a sigh, she asked, “Now what?”
    “Plan C.”
    “Um, okay.” She trailed off, waiting for more details that didn’t come. “What is Plan C?” Her stomach dipped as she braced herself for the suggestion that they stay with his father. She hoped that wouldn’t include Brenda’s irritating presence.
    Instead, he completely shocked her by saying, “We’re going to Catalunya.”
    Her mouth dropped open. “As in Barcelona?”
    He nodded. “The Spanish Grand Prix. You made the arrangements for me, right?”
    “Months ago,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Before your accident. You aren’t cleared to race again yet. You aren’t planning to race, are you?” Why did that send a surge of panic through her? It was what he did and had done successfully for the past seven years without any injuries—until his prototype crashed.
    “Not this time, though I hope to be up for the Monaco Grand Prix. I’m attending to schmooze and make connections. I’m planning to retire from the circuit as a driver after this season, and I want to transition to construction.”
    Relief swept through her, though it shouldn’t matter to her either way. “That sounds…safer.” Except when he tested his vehicles. “Still, there’s no reason for me to go with you to Barcelona, Connor. I can hole up in a hotel.”
    “Not for forty-eight hours, you can’t. Knowing your penchant for planning, I no doubt have a ridiculously large suite awaiting me, so there will be plenty of room for you to have your own space. The jet’s always on standby, so we can be in the air in less than two hours. There’s a bedroom on board, so you can sleep during the flight. You can’t visit Kevin for two weeks, and I’m your employer, so you can’t feign work as an excuse. What other reasons do you have?”
    “Just planning a wedding I’m supposed to skip out on at the last moment,” she said overly sweetly. “Put like that, Barcelona sounds like a joy.” Her face fell. “Oh, but I don’t have my passport. It’s back at the apartment.”
    He smiled. “Leave that to me, my darling fiancée. I have it all under control.”
    She snorted. “I’m the one who usually manages all the details of your life, Mr. Blackwell, so pardon my skepticism.”
    He just laughed, looking arrogantly confident that he could arrange the world to suit his needs. She had to reluctantly concede he was right to be arrogant when they were on his private plane ninety minutes later, preparing for a final takeoff. Her passport was in her purse, and a suitcase of her clothes was also stowed in the plane’s bedroom. She didn’t know who he’d sent to accomplish the task, but he had made it happen. She wasn’t certain if she should be annoyed, impressed, or perhaps fearful for her job—which she already knew would be ending as soon as she jilted him at the altar, so that wasn’t really a concern.
    In lieu of any response, she chose to hide out in the plane’s bedroom and sleep as they undertook the hours-long flight. She was probably making a mistake by going along on this trip, but as she lay down and drifted into a deep sleep, she realized she was looking forward to it all the same. Not because of her boss, of course. It had absolutely nothing to do with Connor.
    If only she could make herself believe that completely…

Chapter Six
    Barcelona was just the distraction she needed. Because Connor wasn’t