Fake Love Rich Boss Series

by Peterson , Sloane

  Alan shrugged as if it were nothing.

  “The judge that refused to give you bail finally agreed to because you may have been in danger?” I asked skeptically. “I need a bit more than that, Alan.”

  He cleared his throat, “The judge may or may not have been slipped some money for the favor, but he did rule it.”

  I sigh. What did I expect?

  “And? Is there any way the money can be traced back to you? To any of you? Anyone who could have seen what happened?”

  I’m exasperated. This family is exasperating.

  “No,” Oliver answered this time. “The money should be in the clear, it shouldn’t be able to be traced.”

  Something about that sits uneasy with me. I rub at my temples, clearly in over my head here. I don’t know what I’m dealing with.

  “I’m also going to ask this; how did you convince the judge that your life was in danger? You know, so we can keep our stories straight.”

  “I added some money to my cellmate’s books to say that he was considering killing me in my sleep,” Alan said. He’s not the least bit ashamed of this, telling me proudly about his plans. I wonder what it’s like to live guilt-free.

  “Okay,” I said, relenting. “So, you paid off the judge and your cellmate, but you were ruled to be in danger, so the judge let you go. Any stipulations? Or are you just free to roam the New York streets?”

  “He’s under house arrest,” said Camille, suddenly speaking up. “However, his lawyers were able to convince the judge that he needed to be present at the press conference today. It’s his one free pass.”

  I also don’t like the sound of that. I’m beginning to regret coming back to New York.

  “Okay, I can work with all of this,” I said. Not like I have a choice, I just have to spin this enough to make it seem logical to the press, leaving out the fact that money was exchanged in return for the favors that were granted.

  “Good,” Alan smiled at me. It reminds me of Oliver’s smirk when he knows I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. “I knew we made a good choice when we hired you.”

  “I’m going to go do some work. We’ll meet downstairs in an hour to start the conference, agreed?”

  Everybody agrees and I step out of the office, settling on going down to the lobby to get some work done. I like the jungle of plants that surround me downstairs; it’s relaxing. It takes my mind off of everything else going on.

  I press the ‘down’ button on the elevator and wait patiently for the doors to open. Just before they do, Oliver’s voice is behind me.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. His voice is so much softer than normal.

  I turn around to look at him, holding my bag tightly to my body. “I need to at least get an outline of what I’m going to say for the conference after all this information was just sprung on me.”

  I think for a second that Oliver looks sheepish. He rubs at the back of his neck before shrugging one of his shoulders.

  “Yeah, those things happen around here sometimes. I wish I could have told you more on the phone, but Alan wanted everything to be in person.”

  When he calls his father ‘Alan’, there’s a strange disconnect between the two of them. It’s a stark contrast from the ‘father’ he was using earlier.

  “It’s fine. I’ll manage.”

  “That’s why we hired you,” Oliver smiled at me. “I know you’re probably on a time crunch, but can you come with me for a minute?”

  I want to say ‘no’. I have so much work to do, so much to get done, but it’s hard to say no to him. Plus...I’m curious. I know, I know. Curiosity killed the cat, but I can’t help myself. I look at him for a minute, lips pursed to the side.

  “If I stumble over my words or mess something up, that’s on you.”

  Oliver smiles at me then, one of those rare, genuine ones. He holds his hands up in front of him.

  “I’ll take full credit for word-stumbling. Swear.”

  He turns and starts walking, I take a few large steps to catch up to him. He leads me down the hallway that’s past his office, another one I’ve never explored before. We’re both silent, Oliver in the lead. He stops a little over halfway down the hall, in front of a closed door.

  “It’s not much,” he told me as if I know what he’s talking about. “But I had them put this together for your return.”

  He turns the golden doorknob and pushes the door open. In the middle of the room is a white wooden desk with golden details. The walls are freshly painted, bright white. The desk chair is pastel pink, and looks lavishly soft. In the corner, there’s an overstuffed white loveseat back against the wall. Other than that, the room is incredibly plain.

  Oliver looks at me, the expression on his face is reminiscent of the look you make while you wait for somebody to unwrap the gift you bought them.

  “This is your office,” he tells me, proudly. “I took a few guesses about what you’d like and if there’s a problem with any of it, just let me know and I’ll get it changed.”

  I’m shocked. I expected I’d get an office in the building eventually. I just didn’t expect Oliver to take some liberties and design it himself. I shake my head.

  “No, it’s amazing.” I take another minute to look at it, taking it all in again. I turn to look up at Oliver, his eyes focused down on me. “I love it. Thank you.”

  I hate this. I hate this so much. Standing like this next to him, the chemistry between the two of us is palpable. He has to feel it too, right? I can’t be the only one. I can’t be inventing some imaginary attraction that I want there to be between the two of us. We stay like that, silent, looking at each other, until Oliver reaches out and takes my hand in his.

  My heart is now pounding. I can feel it in my chest, rising in my throat. I feel like I’m going to be sick. He looks down at our hands, fingers now entwined.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he told me. “Please let me know if you need anything. I...I should get going. You have an outline to write, don’t you?”

  I look down at our hands before nodding slowly.

  “Yeah,” I said. I don’t want to be the one to let go. Thankfully (or unluckily, depending on how I want to look at it), Oliver lets go.

  “I’ll see you soon, Cassidy.”

  I believe that the press conference regarding Alan’s release from jail went as smoothly as possible. I felt completely unprepared, but I did the best that I could, trying not to stumble over my words and answer questions without raising more questions, or slipping up.

  Afterwards, I was dismissed for the rest of the day, which gave me time to catch up on sleep and formulate a plan for the upcoming media circuit with the family. Alan’s trial date still loomed in the distance; it would be upon us before we even knew it. We had so much to prepare for; well, I had so much to prepare for. The family just had to try to keep themselves out of trouble, which thinking back to how they paid off a judge to get him out on bail, didn’t seem likely.

  Edward drove me to my apartment, my first time seeing it in person. I only hoped the pictures were accurate and I wasn’t going to be living in some run-down building. He stopped in front of a building that was almost as tall as Windsor was, the outside was brown brick, small rectangular windows were stacked in evenly-spaced rows up the sides.

  “This looks like your stop, Miss Hanson,” Edward said as he pulled up to the building. He stops by the curb, giving me time to gather my things and get out from the backseat.

  “Enjoy your day, Edward,” I said as I closed the car door. From the look on his face, I don’t think he believes that he will.

  I throw my bags over my shoulder and enter the building, going to the front desk. The woman behind it is middle-aged and not as cheery as one would imagine. She looks up my information, confirms it with my ID and throws me the keys.

  “You’re in apartment 05-C, so third floor, fifth apartment. It’s marked on the door.”

  I thank her before going to the elevator, stepping into i
t, and pressing the button to the third floor. Excitement builds in me as it climbs the short journey. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it’s a much different experience than my small studio over the bakery back home. I do believe I’m going to miss the smells that wafted up in the morning though. There’s nothing like waking up to the fresh scent of coffee.

  The elevator opens and I step out into a wooden floored hallway, one that’s shiny and clean. I start to walk down it, reading the unit numbers on the doors until I find ‘5’. I take the key from my pocket, put it in the door, turn it and push it open.

  I enter into what I assume should be the dining room. It’s a small room with grey walls and more dark wooden floors. I close the door behind me and tour the apartment. All of the rooms have the same grey walls with dark wooden floors, except for the bedroom which has a navy-blue accent wall.

  The apartment is so much more than I imagined. Standing in the middle of what will be the living room floor, I feel small. The bathroom even has a tub, which is something I’ve never had before.

  It just feels so...empty. Without any of my belongings, it doesn’t feel like home. What choice do I have? The movers won’t be here until tomorrow, so for tonight, I guess it’s me and the hardwood floor. I think there’s a blanket in my carry-on, so I can use that for some comfort.

  I sit on the floor, leaning back against the wall. I decide to order some Chinese food for lunch and dinner, something cheap and comforting. It’s going to be an interesting night.

  Around seven that night, long after I’ve eaten enough wontons to fill my stomach and have tried to make the floor as comfortable as possible, my phone buzzes. I look down and see Oliver’s name pop up. I can’t help but sigh. What has gone wrong now?

  It’s a text, I open it and read. ‘What’s your new address?’

  ‘Why are you asking?’ I text back, leaning my head back against the wall.

  When my phone buzzes again, moments later, I read; ‘I want to send you a housewarming gift. What’s your new address?’

  I sigh and text it to him before making myself comfortable again. I don’t know how long passes until I hear a knock at the door. I pull myself up, my body already sore. I’m expecting flowers or an edible arrangement, something that you usually send people for a housewarming present.

  When I open it, I see Oliver standing there. He’s wearing a dark blue button up shirt and a pair of dark jeans. His blonde hair isn’t messy, instead perfectly swooped over to the side. All I can do is blink blankly up at him, confused. He wasn’t an edible arrangement...although he looks delicious.

  I shake my head, trying to remove that line of thought.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him, for what can’t be the first time.

  “I’m your housewarming gift,” he said with a grin. I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at that. I see his grin fall. “Okay, fine. Guess I’m not that good of a gift. But I wanted to see if you wanted to take me up on my offer tonight.”

  Once again, I’m left blinking blankly up at him.

  “What offer?” I asked feeling confused. Am I that dumb? Or is Oliver just playing some strange mind game with me.

  Oliver’s features are quick to show annoyance, his brows knit together on his forehead and his lips form a thin line.

  “My offer to show you around New York.”

  “Oliver,” I sighed, reaching down to look at my phone. “It’s eight o’clock. I’ve had a long day and I’m not really the nightclub type of person.”

  “Who said anything about a nightclub? I do other things rather than go to clubs,” he said with a pout. “I’m hurt you let the media paint me like that in your mind.”

  He doesn’t say anything else, instead he pushes past me and steps into my apartment.

  “Yeah, you were invited in,” I muttered, turning to watch as he walks from room to room.

  “This is a nice place,” he said, like I was waiting for his approval. “Kind of empty though. We did give you enough for furniture, right?” he asked, turning back to look at me. He’s found my pathetic blanket, and overstuffed-bag-set-up in the living room, complete with the Chinese food containers around it.

  Oliver has probably never had to buy furniture in his life. He probably doesn’t know how much a mattress costs.

  “I have enough, but my furniture won’t be here until tomorrow. The movers couldn’t rush it.”

  His nose wrinkled, “You should have told me. We could have made them rush it.”

  “Do you really think you can throw money at anything and everything and make it work for you?” I asked with frustration in my voice.

  He grins back at me.

  “It’s worked for me so far,” he said. I hate that he’s right. “Anyway,” Oliver turns around. “Do you want to take me up on that offer or not?” he asked.

  Every logical part of my being is telling me to say ‘no’. It’s telling me that this is a terrible idea, going anywhere with Oliver Windsor is a terrible idea. Yet looking up at him like this, I can’t help myself.

  “Why not?” I said. What is it about him and getting me to let go of what little self-control I have?

  “Great,” he grins so wide that I can see his shiny teeth. “Let’s go.”

  I just hope that I haven’t gotten myself in over my head tonight. That seems to be becoming a habit of mine.

  Despite what Oliver said earlier, I still expected him to come to a stop in front of some elaborate, neon-lighted night club. The type of club that you see people like him stumbling out of, drunk, with three girls on his arms. Instead, we drove out of the city. I watched in the rearview as the city lights became nothing but twinkles in the background, as the surroundings turned into trees and long stretched roads.

  Oliver had turned on the radio about halfway through our trip, a trip that took us almost an hour. I hummed along to the songs on the radio, the silence between us not quite as uncomfortable as it had been before. When we finally come to a stop, it’s a gravel-filled parking lot in front of a small white building.

  The building is almost reminiscent of buildings at home, small and white with unstained wooden stairs and fencing along the side that has vines climbing up. I look over at Oliver, raising an eyebrow.

  He grins, “Hope you’re still at least a bit hungry.”

  Even though I had pigged out on Chinese food earlier, I shrug a shoulder, “I could eat something.”

  “Good.”

  I get out of the car before Oliver can help me, turning to look at the small white sign board out front. In navy blue lettering it said, ‘Anthony’s on the Bay’. It seems like such a small, niche spot. Not the type of place a guy like Oliver would hit up.

  We go inside together, the host seems to recognize Oliver as soon as he enters (and not in the ‘oh, it’s a celebrity’ type of way, more of the ‘oh, we’re friendly’ way). He leads us to the back deck of the restaurant. The deck sits over the sea, in the darkness it looks threatening. It’s a pit of black water that stretches out for miles, a few scattered stars reflecting down on it. It’s dangerous and beautiful.

  I was never much of a beach girl, having grown up in the mountains, but I can still appreciate its beauty. Oliver pulls out a chair for me and I take a seat, he sits across from me. The host leaves us with tan, one-page menus.

  “I recommend the oysters,” Oliver tells me, peeking at me over his menu. “The oysters and a Dark n’ Stormy are usually my go-to here.”

  I think about playfully commenting on how I didn’t ask for his suggestion, but Oliver and I aren’t close like that. I don’t want to offend him, especially when he’s doing something so nice for me.

  “That sounds good,” I agreed and that’s what I order when our waitress appears.

  Unlike the car ride over, Oliver doesn’t let silence come between the two of us.

  “I know this isn’t what you were expecting,” he said. “And I’m sure you wanted to see some of the usual New York sights, but I thought you�
�d also like to see something different. Maybe something a little closer to home? I know the big city can be a lot.”

  I didn’t realize how much thought he had put into what I would or wouldn’t like to see. I have to admit that it is nice to see something more familiar, the trees, the fresh air. It’s a nice relaxation compared to the bustling city life that I find myself trying to adjust to as quickly as possible.

  “It’s nice,” I told him, making sure our eyes meet. In this type of setting, outside of the office, outside of the roles we have to play, I feel much more comfortable talking to him. “Thank you for this, Oliver.”

  “It’s not the only thing I want to show you,” he said, but leaves it at that.

  Oliver is true to his word. After a delicious snack, we got back into his car and he drove a little further down the dark, straight-line road. The night had really settled upon us by this point, the trees turning into dark, indistinguishable figures surrounding us. Oliver suddenly pulled off on the side of the road, to a small little pull-off spot, like a mountain overlook.

  With his arm on the back of the passenger’s seat, he backed up and turned it, so the car was facing the midnight sea. He turns to look at me, the same grin from earlier on his face.

  “Trust me?” There’s something about the way he asked me that, something mischievous and innocent wrapped up in one.

  I can’t help but say, “Absolutely.”

  We get out of the car, and I find myself just standing there. I don’t know where to go or what to do, but I watch as Oliver climbs up on the hood of his car. He looks over at me and pats the spot next to him.

  “Join me.”

  It was a command, not a question...of course I oblige.

  I climb onto the hood of the car next to him, settling in. We’re so close that our thighs are touching. I try not to pay attention to how warm he is, how his body feels against mine.

  “This is one of my favorite spots,” he tells me. “When things feel like they’re too much or I don’t know what to do, I drive out here, look out at the ocean and think. I have some of my best and worst ideas out here,” Oliver admitted with a laugh.