The billionaire's (fake) fiancée

by Emma Quinn

Peter lingered by the doorway for a few seconds longer before nodding curtly. “Very well. Have a good night, the both of you.” He didn’t leave right away. I didn’t like how his eyes didn’t leave Rachel. There was concern there, mixed with what I could only describe a muted warmth. After a few more seconds, he finally turned on his heels to leave, closing the apartment door behind him.

  Rachel let out a sigh of relief. “Can you help me unzip the back of my dress? I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Oh, sure,” I muttered, fiddling stupidly with the tiny zipper. I carefully pulled it down, exposing the fair skin of her back and the delicate fabric of her lace bra.

  We grew up together, so this wasn’t the first time I’d seen her in a state of undress. But lately, my heart skipped a beat whenever I’d see her walking around the apartment in nothing but lounge shorts and a sheer shirt. My face got stupidly hot and my mouth always became awfully dry when I’d catch a glimpse of Rachel in nothing but a towel wrapped around her body, hair still dripping from being washed. It didn’t used to be like this. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things started to change. Maybe it was when we agreed to move into an apartment together when we came to New York. Maybe it was well before then, I couldn’t say for certain.

  Rachel left down the hall and escaped to her bedroom, reemerging a few minutes later to dash into the bathroom. I moseyed back over to the couch, a million questions on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t want to press her into talking if she didn’t feel like it. Rachel was the kind of person who clammed up when they were stressed. It was actually one of the reasons I cared about her so deeply. She always shouldered her responsibilities by herself, always tried to achieve things on her own. Rachel was beautiful, independent, and always ridiculously sweet. I just hoped that one day, she’d let me in completely.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” I asked from the living room.

  She shouted back over the spray of the shower and the rumbling of the bathroom fan, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  My mind raced, filling with all the possible scenarios that could have happened. I had a bad habit of defaulting to the worst cases. What if Peter tried to force himself on her? What if he insulted her? If he did, I was going to make sure there was hell to pay. Rachel was the sweetest person I knew, and if a guy like Peter –one who was probably used to having anything and everything– could make a girl like her cry, there was a storm coming. I couldn’t concentrate on the TV anymore, even when the group tried using turkey drippings as grease to help Joey unstick from the door. I was worried about Rachel. What wasn’t she telling me?

  Eventually, Rachel came out of the shower, dressed in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that looked incredibly familiar.

  “Isn’t that mine?” I asked, hiding my amusement.

  “Oh, yeah. I grabbed it off the top of the clean laundry pile. You don’t mind, do you?”

  I shook my head. In truth, I thought she looked cute in my clothes. “I guess I can let it slide,” I teased. “But just this once. It is my favorite.”

  The corners of her lips pulled up into a little smirk. “It’s got holes in it,” she reasoned. “And the collars all stretched.”

  “So? It’s my favorite, therefore I wear it all the time, and now it’s rundown.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  I watch as she used her towel to dry her long hair. I liked how she looked fresh out of the shower, skin all dewy and hair all fluffy and soft. Rachel made her way over and plopped down on the couch beside me, easily resting her head on my shoulder as she let out a tired sigh. The scent of her vanilla shampoo and shea butter bodywash wafted into my nose, left my head feeling light and tingling. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, just as I’d done a thousand times before, ignoring the rapid beating of my heart.

  “So, this fake girlfriend thing,” I mumbled eventually. “You’re not doing it again, right?”

  “I don’t think so,” she answered quietly, voice growing soft. “Especially not after tonight.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

  Rachel yawned. “Not much to tell. Peter’s mother is a real piece of work.”

  “Aren’t all mothers?”

  “I guess I can see why he needed me to play the part. I think it would have been a lot worse if I hadn’t agreed to do this for him.”

  I frowned, lips pressing into a thin line. “Forget about him. You don’t have to stand in the line of fire to protect that douchebag.”

  Rachel shook her head slowly. “That’s the last time, I swear. With the money I just earned, we’re going to be set for a long while.”

  “You didn’t… You didn’t do this for me, did you? I know my cut of hours at the café have been making things a bit hard, but–”

  “No, David,” she interrupted. “Don’t you dare think that.”

  “Then who did you do it for?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know. Peter just seemed…”

  “What?”

  “Peter seemed like he could really use my help. He just looks so lonely, you know?”

  I snorted. “A rich handsome guy like him? I’m sure he’s got plenty of people who want to share his company.”

  “True. But how many of them are willing to be his friend?”

  “You want to be his friend now?”

  She shrugged her shoulders again. “I don’t know, David. I don’t know.”

  “Well, whatever. Just promise me that’s the last time you do something like that for him.”

  “I promise.”

  10

  Peter

  I

  didn’t think Mother would go so far as to hire a private investigator to look into Rachel. What was she hoping to find? Was she hoping to discover some scandalous past and rub it in my face? Did she want to use it as an excuse to get me to see Anastasia again, even though I explicitly told her I wasn’t interested? I couldn’t understand Mother’s fascination with finding me a wife. I liked being alone. It was easier to look out for my interests when I only had myself to rely on. It was simpler.

  Safer.

  I had to hand it to Rachel, though. She really managed to hold her own against Mother. I was admittedly really amused by how she put Mother in her place, right up until Mother dug into her history. I was fascinated by the whole exchange. I’d even go so far as to say I was entranced. Rachel was sharper than I gave her credit for, several degrees far more intelligent than anyone I’d ever encountered. It was hard for me to believe that she was simply a personal assistant. With her level of wit and quick thinking, it was easy for me to imagine Rachel in a leadership role. If I plucked her from her desk and placed her in charge of an entire department at Alance Tech, I was confident that she had the savvy and work ethic to have everything running like clockwork by the end of the week.

  I watched Rachel toiling away at her station from my desk. She had her hair pulled up today, pinned in place with a brand-new clip I’d never seen her wear. Did she use the extra money I gave her to treat herself to something nice? In the back of my mind, I thought it was just as well. A hardworking woman like her deserved to be treated every once and a while. Rachel was also wearing a new skirt that flattered her long legs and round ass. I had to rip my eyes away when Rachel looked up. I hoped she hadn’t caught me staring.

  Instead of getting up from her desk to check on me, she used her office work phone and called my number. I picked up, unsure why my stomach was doing flips.

  “Did you need something, sir?”

  Sir. There she goes again with the whole ‘sir’ thing.

  I was really starting to enjoy it.

  “Um, no?” I answered lamely. “No, I’m good.”

  “Oh, okay. You just looked like you had something to say.” Her voice sounded smooth over the receiver. She spoke loud enough for me to hear, but soft enough to make me think we were sharing secrets. Having her voice so close to my ear was weirdly electric, lik
e she was whispering to me.

  “Do you have the Staton Reports ready for me?” I asked, trying to think of something to keep her on the line.

  “Not yet,” she answered softly. “I’m still waiting on legal to get back to me, but I think I can get everything to you by the end of the work day.”

  “Uh, no rush. No rush. That’s okay.”

  Rachel shot me a quizzical look. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

  “Are you, uh…” I started to flounder. I’d never been at a loss of words before. I felt like I was simultaneously drowning and overdosing on too much oxygen. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

  “No, my break isn’t for another half hour.”

  “Do you, um…”

  What was going on with me? What was it about Rachel that turned me into a pathetic mumbling mass of a human being? She was just a woman, like every other that I’d met up until now. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t the case. Rachel was different, but in a good way. I initially thought she was too bland to be interesting, the total opposite of my type. But as I found out, this certainly wasn’t the case. There was something about her that had my tongue tying itself in knots. There was something wildly unpredictable and exciting and new about her that made my palms sweat. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I was determined to learn.

  “Let’s grab lunch together,” I said finally. “On me.”

  For a second, Rachel looked puzzled. “Sure,” she answered after a beat. “What did you have in mind?”

  “You’re the culinary arts enthusiast, aren’t you? Why don’t you pick?”

  “Really? You’re always so particular about how you want your breakfast, I figured it’d be the same for everything else.”

  I’m surprised at the chuckle that bubbles past my lips. “Just pick something.”

  “How does sushi sound? There’s this cute little place on Fourth I think you’d like.”

  I nodded. “Sushi it is.”

  Rachel was right. The place was indeed cute. The sushi restaurant was pretty much a tiny box, squeezed between an old vintage bookstore and a yoga studio. The delicious smell of fresh tempura, sweetened rice, and salty cuts of fish made my stomach growl the second I stepped foot inside. Rachel led the way, moving about the place like she’d been here before. I had to wonder if she’d eaten here with that wet blanket of a roommate, David. The thought, for some reason, irritated me to no end.

  Maybe because there was something quietly intimate about the place. There were small booths set up along one wall featuring tables big enough for just two people. The idea of Rachel being so close to another person, leaning in to whisper and enjoy a fancy meal made my chest tighten. Maybe to her, this place was fancy. To me, it was a run of the mill sushi bar. This was nothing compared to the restaurants in Japan where I was personally served by the head chef. I’d been fed fatty tuna, freshly shucked oyster, vibrantly orange salmon, savory urchin, and so much more. I was understandably a bit disappointed at the selection this place offered.

  I was even more disappointed at the realization that Rachel probably couldn’t afford anything better.

  “Get whatever you’d like,” I told her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve got the company card on me. There’s an expense account for meals.” I threw her a casual wink. I really didn’t mean to. It was more of a reflex at this point, something to help me keep up airs of a charismatic playboy billionaire. Tony Stark had nothing on me.

  Rachel smiled, bright and brilliant and more beautiful than I’d ever seen her smile. She looked like an excited child in a candy store, picking out what she wanted to order in pure glee. Her appetite impressed me. I supposed by now, I shouldn’t have expected Rachel to be anything except extraordinary. She ate her fill, enjoying a wide variety of delicious dishes, two plates full of gyoza, and we even shared cold tapioca in coconut milk together for dessert. It’s a delight to watch her, swooning over how delicious everything is.

  “Ah, damn,” she sighs contently, “that was good. Is this your way of apologizing?”

  “Apologizing for what?”

  “Your mother.”

  “Oh,” I said, taken by surprise. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  “Well, don’t worry. Consider your apology accepted.”

  “You took last evening like a champ.”

  Rachel fiddled with her wooden chopsticks. “I prepared for the worst. I kind of figured she’d be like that if you needed to resort to hiring a fake girlfriend.” There was something mischievous about the grin she gave me. “Look at that. The great Peter Alance is afraid of his mother.”

  “I mean, can you blame me?”

  Rachel giggled. The sound echoed in my ear, light and wondrously soft. “No, I can’t say I do.”

  A beat of silence passed between us. My stomach was so full and the air in the restaurant was so still and warm that it made me want to take a nap. Instead, I asked, “Is it true?”

  “What is?”

  “About your parents. Is it true?”

  Rachel’s smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, it is. Your mother really knew where to hit me where it hurts.”

  I grimaced. “I’m sorry for your loss. That must have been really tough.”

  “Mr. Alance, are you getting soft on me?”

  I chuckled. “Not soft, just trying to be sincere.”

  “It was a long time ago,” she said slowly. “I’m over it.” She forced a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She changed the subject, “This is nice. We should grab lunch again sometime.”

  I found myself nodding slowly. “Yes,” I agreed. “Maybe we should.”

  11

  Rachel

  I

  was a little worried that Peter was feeling more guilty than he was really letting on. Even though I told him over and over again that I was fine, that what his mother said to me at the family reunion was almost completely forgotten, Peter continually insisted on taking me out to lunch. Sometimes he’d choose the restaurants, and sometimes he’d let me pick. He always chose places that served expensive gourmet foods that came in ridiculously small portions, and he’d sometimes grumble disapprovingly when I chose more local and affordable joints to eat at. Nevertheless, our joint lunch times became something of a habit for us both. The only problem?

  He always insisted on paying.

  I didn’t have anything against free lunch. I also didn’t have it against a man who still wanted to act chivalrous in this day and age. Peter was certainly helping me save on money by constantly treating me. It was just that ‘Peter’ and ‘chivalrous’ didn’t sound right in the same sentence. I sometimes had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, that I wasn’t about to wake up at my desk surrounded by overdue paperwork and Peter breathing down my neck for whatever reports he’d been hounding me for.

  There was something different about him. He was changing, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on the how or the why. But the thing was that he only ever seemed different around me. Everyone else at the office was still subject to his harsh criticisms and dry humor. People still tried to suck up to him, fishing for compliments that they’d never receive. But with me, Peter’s critiques became less frequent. When he praised me for how thorough I’d been in organizing next month’s calendar for him, I thought I must have hit my head really hard somewhere and hallucinated everything. His voice was always gentle with me, always a smidge more patient than with the rest of my colleagues.

  “I think he’s got the hots for you,” Denise whispered in my ear.

  We were in the break room. I only had fifteen minutes before I needed to join Peter downtown for an important meeting with another tech firm. I’d been sitting on one of the free chairs, organizing through my day planner to make sure I had everything in order for the rest of the day.

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’m serious. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

  “On my first
day, he told me to ‘dress up.’ I don’t think I’m his type.”

  “He’s always in a good mood when he’s with you. Haven’t you noticed?”

  I closed my day planner. This conversation, as silly as it might have been, was far more interesting than figuring out where to slot Peter’s dentist appointment. “Please,” I hummed, “enlighten me.”

  “Well, for one, you’ve lasted six months here. None of his other personal assistants made it past the one-month mark.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m good at my job.”

  “He always treats you to lunch.”

  “Our schedules are both hectic. It’s just easier to eat together.”

  “He smiles at you.”

  “He… He smiles at other people, too.”

  Denise looked thoroughly unconvinced. “Mhmm, sure. Don’t you ever at least think about sleeping with him?”

  I nearly choked on the water I was sipping at. “W-what?”

  “Oh, don’t be so modest. Everybody here would jump his bones if they had the chance.”

  “Everybody?” I echoed skeptically. “Even the men.”

  “Even the men,” she confirmed, winking at me suggestively. “I mean, have you seen Mr. Alance lately?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t really look at him that way. He’s my boss.”

  “And?”

  I didn’t like the way she said that. I rose from my seat and collected my things, clearing my throat before saying, “I need to go. Mr. Alance is waiting for me.”

  She practically whistled, “Yeah, he is.”

  I made my way back up to the top floor and tread lightly, keeping a close eye on my watch. The town car I ordered would be arriving any minute now, so Peter and I really needed to get on our way if we wanted to make it to the meeting in time. Just as I rounded the corner, I happened to bump into someone, startling a soft gasp from their lips.

  Looking up, my eyes fell upon a gorgeous young woman. She was incredibly tall and slender with legs that went on for miles. Her long brown hair was in loose curls that pooled over her shoulders like waterfalls of chocolate. She had a petite face, with a cute button nose and plump lips filled in with a vibrant red lip stain. She was in a tight black dress that could barely contain her massive breasts, and the fabric clung to her round ass, accentuating all of her curves. I could tell in an instant that this woman didn’t work here. She was far too stunning to be an office worker. And judging by the limited-edition Chanel purse slung over her shoulder and her exotic leopard print pumps from Jimmy Choo, she obviously made more than the average office worker, too.