She looked up at him in bewilderment, and he forced an easy smile, even as he lowered his voice to let her know what was going on.

“Seriously?” she said after he’d dropped the bombshell. “Someone’s here? Watching us?”

“Apparently. No, don’t look!” he admonished. “Honestly, you’re not very good at this whole clandestine romance thing.”

“Believe it or not, pretending to be in love with my best friend doesn’t come all that easily,” she snapped, clearly rattled.

Clarke’s thumb stopped idly stroking her knuckles, a little surprised by the stab of… hurt?

Not that he expected her to be in love with him. He wasn’t in love with her. But it didn’t exactly feel good to know that the one person he cared about more than anything thought him such an unworthy romantic partner.

Could he blame her, though? Audrey knew him well. Knew exactly just how cavalierly he treated relationships. Suspected, even, Clarke’s deepest shame.

He hadn’t even known his darkest secret until she’d told him about the pact she’d made with Naomi and Audrey to protect one another from heartbreakers. But the moment she’d told him, he’d known. He’d known that he was one of those men.

Not one of the good ones. He was a Brayden. He was one of the men the women had sworn to protect one another against.

All this time, he’d wondered if Audrey realized. Now he was fairly certain.

She knew.

Still, knowing who Clarke really was didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend to be enamored with who he was pretending to be. Saving her reputation was the least he could do for her, but he needed her to sell it a lot better than she was currently. Her spine was straight, her eyes wide, her face white.

“Put your phone away,” he commanded gently. “Slowly, indifferently, like whatever’s happening on your phone doesn’t matter one way or another to you.”

She did as he instructed, leaning down and dropping the phone into her bag.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now give me your other hand.”

His right hand still holding hers, he set his left palm up on the table. She hesitated only briefly before setting her right hand lightly atop his.

“Smile,” he said, holding both her hands now. “No, not a big grin, just a little private smile, like we’re having a nice conversation.”

“But we are not having a nice conversation. You’re being bossy,” she pointed out.

“You look nice today,” he said, stroking his thumbs over her knuckles. “Is that a new lipstick?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Showing interest in my fiancée and hoping the Peeping Tom in the restaurant with us notices. Your turn.”

She sighed slightly. “Fine. How was your day?”

“Do better,” he said in exasperation.

“How’d your presentation to the board go?”