Cara
I last twenty minutes alone in his sitting room before I start snooping.
I try to justify myself as I go through his medicine cabinet. I'm just trying to learn more about the man I'm going to fake-marry—or real-marry, or pretend-real-marry, or whatever this is—so it's not immoral to look at all his stuff.
Razor, shaving cream, Band-Aids, toothbrush, nothing interesting.
I'm not really sure what the hell we're doing, but I'm drifting along like a log on a wave lost in the current, and Eros is the entire ocean.
His closet is better. Enormous and filled with expensive, custom-tailored suits, racks of designer jeans and shoes and shirts, and a hundred ties in black and dark blue. There's a shelf covered in glittering, no-doubt priceless watches, lit with custom bulbs so the whole dis
