Fake It: A Fake Fiancé Romance Page 4

  “Holy shit is right.”

  He licks his lips. He wipes his mouth and walks off somewhere. I manage to fix my hair and put it back into place, like nothing ever happened. When he comes back, he’s got a familiar-looking envelope underneath his arm.

  “Here, I signed it.” He throws the envelope on the table. “I’ve made my own copy.”

  “That’s…it?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  “Well, now that we’re officially fake engaged, we’ll need to partake in fake fiancé activities. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. You have my number. I’ll do the same.”

  My genitals are still hot, soaked in his saliva. I can’t believe what just happened. But I know I need to get home. I have to deal with a few more things now that this is official—like telling my dad.

  I grab my stuff on the couch along with the envelope. “I’ll be going then.”

  “What—is this just a business transaction?” He gets up. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Brisk cold air hits my cheekbones as soon as we step out. The air is quiet, my breath is a smoky mist, the moon a twinkle in the dark. So sweet of Carlyle to walk me to my car, opening the door for me to get in. Most guys I’ve dated have been too proud to show a little chivalry.

  I leave the driveway and turn a corner, already almost home. The first and hardest part of the plan is complete. Telling my dad is next.

  6

  Carlyle

  There goes my alarm. I check my phone. Five a.m. I’m up. I turn on my computer, finish some work, and off to the gym I go.

  After the gym, it’s a revitalizing cold shower. Get to the office, work some deals, talk to some bigwig from New York about pricing, permits, and the weather.

  Go home, sleep. Wake up the next day. Repeat.

  For a few days, I get lost in my work, lost in my deals, lost in the biggest closing quarter the company’s seen in a while. I busy myself with meetings and events, working out the kinks in the sales process.

  Then I get an email from Xander on Saturday, who wants me to meet his entire family that day—his younger brother and dad included. Didn’t know impressing the in-laws was part of the contract. Luckily, I’m just at home pumping iron. So, I’ll get the chance to meet with them later.

  The doorbell rings.

  I’m not expecting anyone, but I rush to the door to see who it is. It’s the last person I’d expect to see on a Saturday morning—Phillip, my older brother. He looks like a straggler who’s seen better days—he badly needs a trim, and he’s covered in dirt. This is the first time I’ve seen him in more than a year.

  My eyes shift to the duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and now I know exactly what he wants. Today’s not the day to be doing charity work. So I grab the door and slam it.

  “Carl—bro—wait.” His foot jams the open door.

  He’s the spitting image of our father, something I’ve hated since he left before we all moved. Same green eyes, same rugged face. But just because we share the same DNA doesn’t mean he’s worth my time.

  “What?” I grunt.

  “I just want to talk.”

  “Then, talk.”

  “Can I come in?”

  The last time Phillip came around, he was in trouble with a low-level cartel and in need of a place to lay low. He put our whole family in danger when they followed him to our villa. Before things got too heated, he ran away, cutting off all ties with us. The only time I see Phillip now is when he finds me.

  My fist tightens up into a ball. The urge to punch him recedes as I think about heading back to the gym instead, which is a more productive place to release my frustrations. I turn and walk inside, knowing he’s following right behind me.

  We walk through the house, past the kitchen and toward the gym. I pick up a dumbbell and hunch over the bench to start some bicep curls.

  He sits on one of the machines beside me. “Listen, bro. I came to visit—”

  The weight drop to the ground. “Came to visit what?”

  “Came to visit you. I wanted to see how you were doing, man. I know Dad’s been in a coma for a while.” He hangs his head. “Mom’s been watching over him.”

  I knew it, Ma’s been keeping Phillip in the loop. I’ve told her to stop telling him things. He just doesn’t have the right to know. When he left our family, that’s what happened. I cut him off.

  At least, that’s what I always tell myself. He comes back around like this every few years and pretends like nothing’s happened. Then one of us feels sorry for him and gives him a second chance, only to not be surprised when he drops the ball again.

  But I won’t fall for his shit this time.

  I slide down the bench and grab weights from either side of me for the next exercise, pumping through the set until the heat radiates off my muscles.

  Phillip pleads again, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  I throw the dumbbells on the ground forcefully. “You’re sorry? Your apologies don’t mean anything around here. Every time you run away, it’s always been ‘Sorry.’ I’m tired of your excuses, Phillip. Go back to where you came from.”

  I throw a towel over my shoulder. He used to be so much bigger than me when we were kids, I never stood a chance against him. Being six years older, he always had a size advantage. But now, I could snap him like a twig if I wanted to.

  The sweat down my back is a combination of the workout and my rage. This is pissing me off. My only downtime for a workout, and it’s being ruined by an unwanted guest. He seems to still be absorbing the reaming I just gave him.

  Man, he looks like a groveling idiot sitting there with his tail in between his legs. He’s my brother, for god’s sake. He’s supposed to be cut from the same cloth. I just want to get rid of him. I’ll do whatever it takes.

  I can’t bear seeing him like this anymore. I dry up the rest of the sweat and tell him to come with me. We walk past the kitchen, past the den, and down the hall to my study.

  “Did Mom give you my address?” I throw my voice over my shoulder.

  “I visited the hospital after I heard the news. I asked if I could stay at their place, but she told me to go find you.”

  The desk’s top drawer is where I keep my checkbook and pen. Quickly, I scribble down his name, making the check out for twenty thousand dollars.

  I slam it down on the table. “Don’t bother me again.”

  “Whoa, hang on. Wait a minute. You’re just going to write me out a check and you think that’s all this is? No—I wanted to come see you. I wanted to make sure you were doing alright. I came by in case you needed somebody to talk to.”

  I slap the check on his chest. “Take the money and go.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  Damn it.

  This is giving me a headache.

  “I don’t have a place right now.” Phillip goes back into that groveling state that I hate so much, saying, “I’ve been living at a girl’s place, but we’re not seeing each other anymore.”

  Sores cover my left wrist from fidgeting with my watch. Going through my options, it seems like I have two:

  Let him stay. Let him have free rein of my house until I get home.

  Ditch him. Throw him back on the street where he belongs, just so he can learn a lesson.

  Fuck.

  Of all the days to choose to crash, today is the worst. There are other things I need to worry about more than my estranged brother crashing for one night at my house. At this rate, Phil just seems like a harmless animal.

  “There’s a room upstairs on the left,” I say, pointing in that direction. “You can use that bed for one night.”

  “I’ll stay out of your hair and leave in the morning. Thanks bro, thanks.”

  “One night. I mean it.”

  The location the Stanleys have chosen for the first meet and greet is at a restaurant I frequent often. The familiar corridor leading to the dining room is without a speck of dust in sight. My reflection glimmers again
st the shiny marble floor. After a bend around the corner, the banquet area holds people of the highest regard while a live pianist plays on a raised platform.

  Immediately, I spot them. Like the scene from The Last Supper, they all sit proudly. Adrian, their father, is in the middle of the table, Molly sitting beside him. The brothers, Xander and Jesse, sit on either end.

  It’s a stare-down party as I pivot my way up the stairs to their table. I focus on Molly as she glances at me from afar, shying away every time I try to steal a look.

  “Good afternoon,” I greet the table.

  Adrian stands up. “So good to have you, son. Welcome.”

  He looks dapper in his suit, certainly someone who commands respect. My father speaks highly of him, a well-established titan in the real estate business.

  I make my handshake firmer for Jesse, their youngest member, who is totally wrapped in Gucci from head to toe, snakeskin shoes, and a gold Rolex. Aiming for the poise of a young Scarface, confident and hungry. He’s going to be a killer when he grows into his skin. And he isn’t far off.

  Then it’s Xander, who is about the same height as me. Unlike Adrian or Jesse’s handshake, his is more serious, like we’re about to sign the Constitution. He is a man who wants to be taken seriously. We seem more like brothers than my real brother and I do.

  Adrian gestures at the spot right beside Molly, “Have a seat, my boy.”

  The seat has a nice cushion, and sitting up here looking down really gives a nice view of the entire restaurant. The food on everyone’s table looks delicious. But not as delicious as the treat sitting next to me.

  Under my breath, I whisper, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Stanley.”

  She tilts her head. “Likewise.”

  Adrian reaches behind Molly and pats my shoulder. “All grown up now, huh, Carlyle? I knew you’d come back around! We miss having the Cartiers on the sunshine coast.”

  “Thank you, sir. My dad says there’s no place like home.”

  “How is Maxwell, anyway? I haven’t heard any news about him in a while. How has he been?”

  “He’s actually taking some time to recuperate as we speak. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to make it to lunch this afternoon either.”

  “Oh, of course, Carlyle. It’s just as amazing having you here.”

  I steal glances at Molly, who is looking at the table setting in front of her and timidly smiling. I don’t want to get too close while her father is only a few inches away.

  “Have you been to this restaurant before?” Xander asks, leaning forward.

  “I have. I actually signed a rather large deal here. It was a few years back while I was on a business trip. The San Mateo Globe and The Kinsley Library. Two of my biggest contracts.”

  “Impressive!” Adrian pats my shoulder again, moving me back and forth, “I’m glad we’ve chosen a memorable place. Hopefully, we’ll be able to add onto the list of memorable things. I’ve been informed that you and Molly are taking things rather seriously.”

  “Why—yes, sir.”

  “Oh. You know,” he leans over Molly, winking, “I do approve of you.”

  “Dad, please,” Molly interjects. “Can you not be weird.”

  “You two have such marvelous chemistry. Call me old-fashioned, but I think you two would make a great, what do you kids call it nowadays, ‘item’?”

  “Dad! Okay, please. Let’s just enjoy some champagne, shall we?”

  Jesse jolts up and raises the bottle of champagne from the table up into the air. “Sis is getting hitched!”

  A few people turn our way from the commotion. Jesse has popped the cork from the bottle and bubbly leaks onto the shiny floor.

  Adrian’s face breaks into a grand smile. “You’ve been such a good sport. Jesse, pour everyone a glass. Let’s raise a toast to fruitful beginnings.”

  Jesse grabs his phone from his pocket and stops the waitress who is walking by. He wants to get a picture of all of us sitting beside each other, raising our glasses. Molly’s face is beet red. Her brothers seem to be enjoying this a lot more than she is.

  7

  Molly

  There are people born of uncommon circumstances. By default, they are a product of variables out of their control. Then there are those people who create their own destinies. They choose, they decide where they’re going. Not until recently did I become the latter.

  My whole life, the pieces of my life have been picked out for me. For a while, they felt like concrete, unmovable. Three years ago, when my mom passed away, I wasn’t sure how things would work out. I didn’t know I’d be fighting even harder for control over my own life.

  Every year on the same day Mom died, California seemed to get colder. It’s just one of those days, a warm but chilling day in the middle of February. My dad blankly stares at the tree above us. The cemetery is ghost-quiet except for the rustle of the wind. I gently place a bouquet of white roses at the foot of my mother’s tombstone.

  “You think it ever gets easier?” I look up at Dad.

  “Eventually it will.” Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, sweetie. I know I’m hard on you kids sometimes, but you and your brothers are everything to me. I hope you know that.”

  “I love you too, Dad. But I’ve been meaning to ask you, are you happy? With my decision, with Carlyle?”

  “I’m happy if you’re happy. That’s all dads want for their daughters.” He kisses the top of my forehead. “I can’t force you into anything, honey. But if he’s the one you want, then I can only give you my blessing.”

  He looks down at his watch. “It’s getting a bit late. How about you start heading back, and I’ll be right behind you. I’d like a few minutes alone.”

  My dad really loved my mom. He’d tell me stories about he would court her. In many ways, losing her was probably worse for him than me.

  I start walking back to the car. The cemetery is still completely empty, not a person in sight. The earth cracks underneath my feet. The thing that sucks the most about this situation is how my dad thinks he means well. But he doesn’t realize doing nothing is better than doing too much.

  The last straw was that New Year’s Eve party. He’d hounded me for weeks until I finally agreed to do just one song. That was the breaking point, that’s when I decided to take matters into my own hands.

  Eventually, I’ll have to break my dad’s heart, and break it to him. By then, hopefully, I’ll have my life sorted out and I can finally tell him the truth.

  It’s funny that for someone who loved my mother so dearly, he doesn’t understand that love doesn’t just pop into existence. It takes time. I can’t just meet someone, and poof, fall in love with them.

  I guess I should finally talk to Carlyle after everything that’s happened. If he’s free tonight, I have to see him. Maybe faking this engagement is the wrong decision.

  …

  After the cemetery, I drive down Highway 55 to a nearby diner. It’s not a place I’d normally go to, but it’ll work. One of the waitresses escorts me to one of the booths by the window. The condensation drips down the glass pane, and I watch it until some headlights blind my vision. I see a luxury car pull into the parking lot.

  And I know it’s him. He walks across the gravel to the front door. I hold my breath as I watch him. The floorboards underneath me creak as I shift my weight from foot to foot. I muster up all my courage and wave him over.

  “Hey, you.” He smiles charmingly when he sits in front of me.

  His eyes are on me. His shoulders look so broad in his fleece sweater. The hanging diner lamp casts a shadow over his face, accentuating his near perfect features.

  “Thanks for coming to meet me on such short notice.”

  He pushes his curly hair back. “Hey, no problem. I was in the area, but if I’d known we were grabbing a bite, I would’ve chosen something else to eat out.”

  I shiver but collect myself. “Listen. Let’s make this quick. I want to start off by apolog
izing. I realize I put you in a difficult position, considering this whole thing. I’m grateful for how much you’ve done already. Meeting my family like that. Maybe that shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It’s a bit too late to turn back now, don’t you think? We’ve already involved quite a number of people. Let’s not forget about that little contract you drafted up either.”

  Oh, shoot. I almost forgot about that thing.

  Carlyle leans forward and crosses his hands over top of each other. “If you’re going to commit fraud, you might as well commit it with gusto.”

  “You don’t have to keep doing this. That’s why I asked you here in the first place, so I could give you a way out.”

  He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a small diamond ring, holding it in between his pointer finger and thumb.

  “Hold out your left hand.”

  “For what?”

  “What does it look like?”

  I’m at a loss for words. His face is as serious as day. He’s right, though, we’ve already involved my father, Jesse, Xander—and I told Jane too.

  “Like I said,” he clears his throat, “it’s too late to turn back now. If we’re gonna fake an engagement, we’re gonna fake an engagement right. Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

  It’s sickening, maddening, how gorgeous he is. I flash back to his face in between my legs, and tremors run down my back. I put my hand on the table, holding it out for him.

  “Fine.”

  Carefully, he picks up my hand and gently slides the ring down my finger. He has another ring in his pocket that he puts on himself. They are matching bands. The small diamonds are cute, and not too flashy. They are symbols of our agreement, nothing more.

  “It’s official then,” I say.

  Our waitress comes toward our booth. Instinctively, I shoot my hand underneath the table.

  “Can I get anything for you two?” She looks between us.

  “Two coffees, please.” I look up. “To go.”