I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge

"How old are you, Mr. Garrel?" Marienne asked as they stepped out of the elevator, their footsteps echoing softly down the opulent hallway. "Can I call you Gabriel?"

"I’m twenty-five," he replied, flashing her a smile that reached his eyes. "And yes, you can call me by my first name—especially since you’re older."

He let the last word linger like a thorn, and it landed precisely as intended. Marienne’s expression tightened for a fleeting second before she recovered, masking the irritation with another of her carefully composed smiles.

"I only asked because I know you’re still single," she said smoothly, gesturing for him to enter the suite behind her. "It makes me wonder why. You’re easy on the eyes, charming, and your background is flawless. Anyone would be lucky to date you."

Gabriel gave a dry scoff and nodded, his golden curls falling casually into his eyes. "There is someone I like," he said, his tone turning ever so slightly cool. "But she’s already taken. And unlike a lot of people I know, I have no interest in putting my hands on what doesn’t belong to me."

Another barb—calmly delivered, but sharp as a blade.

Publicly, it was never confirmed that Marienne had begun seeing Robert while he was still married to Anna. Gabriel, of course, shouldn’t have known. That was exactly what made the dig so precise—and so disturbing.

Determined not to let his jabs unnerve her, Marienne moved gracefully toward the kitchenette. A relieved smile touched her lips when she spotted a chilled bottle of champagne waiting on the marble counter, flanked by two tall glasses.Thanks, Seb, she thought wryly. You’ve finally done something right.

"Champagne?" Gabriel’s voice hummed just behind her shoulder, amused. "Do you always keep it on hand—even when you’re not expecting company?"