Fake Dating My Boyfriend's Rival For Christmas

5. Just a ruse

{Day 1; Dec 20, The Ophelia Cruise Ship}

Dave Carter

I had just kissed a woman I met barely an hour ago on this cruise—a complete stranger whose path I never thought I’d cross if Ava hadn’t acted like the w***e I always suspected her to be.

Dating Ava for the past five months had been… draining. Sure, she was beautiful, an international model who turned heads wherever we went. She boosted my ego, gave me a veneer of invincibility. Men stared at her like she was the ultimate prize, and being by her side meant I was the winner.

But now I knew the truth: it wasn’t worth it. She drained me emotionally, mentally, and financially. Love? I wasn’t even sure if what I felt for her had ever been love, or just an illusion of power and respect I enjoyed by having her as my arm candy.

When I kissed Octavia, I saw Ava’s face twist with hurt—an expression I’d never seen before. I could almost see the wheels in her head spinning. Ava had begged me countless times over the past five months for a kiss, but I’d always refused.

Not because I didn’t find her attractive—I’m not blind—but because kissing disgusts me. Always has. It’s not the intimacy that bothers me; I’m just a neat freak to the core. The thought of swapping saliva made me nauseous. But seeing Ava’s face freeze in shock when I kissed a woman I just met? I’ll admit, it gave me satisfaction.

When Ava turned and stormed out of the ballroom, Nathan trailing after her like a lost puppy, I smirked. Good. That’s what you get for cheating on me with a man who’s leagues beneath me.

Nathan Sinclair, CEO of Empire House Publishing. A man who’d tried to compete with me for years despite never being on my level. I know as a twenty-six-year-old running the number one publishing company in America, a lot of people envy me. But Nathan? He’s something else entirely.

I never acknowledged his rivalry, but now that he’d slept with Ava? Fine. If he wants war, I’ll show him just how petty I can be.

My attention drifted back to Octavia. She was still frozen, cheeks flushed pink as her wide amber eyes flickered nervously. Her gaze briefly met mine before darting away, her fingers fidgeting at her sides.

She’s a beautiful young woman, with soft curves, smooth olive skin, and an air of innocence that stands out in a room filled with polished executives. But her lack of confidence is striking. It doesn’t take much to figure out why—Nathan’s verbal abuse must have shredded her self-esteem.

I sighed softly and dropped my hand from her waist. “It’s just a ruse, Octavia,” I said, my tone gentler than I expected. “Don’t get carried away.”

She nodded, her long lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. “I know,” she replied quickly, her voice quiet but steady.

Without waiting for a response, I led her outside to the promenade, where the cool ocean air hit us like a refreshing wave. The festive lights from the ship’s deck reflected on the water’s surface, which stretched endlessly into the horizon.

The Ophelia was a magnificent vessel, a towering luxury cruise ship designed to fit more than a thousand people. Its upper deck glowed with fairy lights, and the soft hum of the ship’s engines blended with the soothing crash of waves against the hull. The deck was scattered with loungers and small tables, though most guests were inside enjoying the gala.

From here, you could see the glittering skyline of New York City growing smaller and smaller as we drifted farther into the Atlantic.

The wind whipped past us, carrying the briny scent of the ocean. I exhaled, steam curling from my lips into the cold air. The festive nostalgia of the holidays mixed with the sharp chill of winter, wrapping around me like a blanket I didn’t know I needed.

I barely made it to the railing before the nausea hit me. My stomach turned violently, and I leaned over, emptying the contents of my dinner into the ocean.

Behind me, Octavia gasped softly, rushing forward to pat my back. “Oh no, are you seasick?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

I straightened, groaning as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m fine now,” I said, my voice hoarse. There was no way I’d admit the truth—that the kiss had triggered my nausea. It would ruin her confidence, and I wasn’t that cruel.

We lingered by the railing for a while, watching the dark waves ripple under the ship’s glow. The water was hypnotic, each crest reflecting the string lights from the deck above.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Octavia murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “But it hasn’t even been twelve hours, and I already miss New York.”

I smiled faintly, shifting my gaze to the faint outlines of skyscrapers in the distance. “What do you miss? Family? Friends?”

“My mom and little brother,” she replied softly. “And maybe work. Empire House must be bustling right now.”

I frowned. “Empire House? You work at Nathan’s company?”

She nodded, turning to face me. “I worked in the editorial department before he… took a liking to me. Everyone envied me for dating the CEO, but behind closed doors, it was hell.”

I could hear the pain in her voice, and it hit closer to home than I’d expected. “I know what you mean,” I admitted, my mind flashing to Ava’s endless demands. “People see the surface, but they don’t know what happens behind the scenes.”

Octavia smiled faintly. “I guess we can look out for each other now.”

I nodded. “How about you go inside? It’s freezing out here, and I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders before she could protest.

Her cheeks turned rosy again, and she looked down shyly. “Thank you. Don’t stay out here too long, okay?”

I nodded, watching as she turned toward the door. The hem of her dress swished lightly as she walked, the soft sound almost drowned out by the rhythmic hum of the ship’s engines.

Then, it happened.

A waiter rounded the corner suddenly, balancing a tray of cocktails. Octavia, distracted, didn’t notice him in time and accidentally bumped into him. Glasses tumbled to the floor with a sharp crash, and vibrant red and gold liquids splashed over her dress and my jacket.

The waiter stumbled, his face twisting into a poorly concealed smirk as he apologized. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” he stammered, though his tone felt rehearsed, insincere.

Octavia flushed, shaking her head as she bent to help him gather the shattered glass. “It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice soft. “Really, it’s—”

But my instincts flared. Something about the scene didn’t sit right. My eyes swept the deck, scanning for anything unusual. And then I saw her.

Ava.

She stood in a shadowy corner, half-hidden behind a column, her phone clutched in one hand. A smug, victorious grin spread across her face. When our eyes met, she didn’t falter. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her middle finger at me, her dark eyes daring me to react.