Fake Love Rich Boss Series

by Peterson , Sloane

  “Okay, Cassidy, whatever you wish,” he said without emotion.

  “Okay. I...I think I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight,” I said, slowly standing from the bed. I step around him, trying not to make eye contact. I know what I’m going to see when I look into his eyes. Hurt and betrayal.

  Without another word between us, I retreat from his room and go down the hallway to the guest room I stayed in that first night. I take one look back at Oliver’s bedroom, reminiscing about the feelings I felt then. We had been slowly falling for each other. We were developing feelings and developing a relationship. What are we now? I close the guest room door and pray that I can get some sleep tonight. But I don’t. How can I sleep with all of this on my mind?

  Alan’s trial lasts almost a week. It’s emotional, a wave of ups and downs. The entire time, I sit next to Oliver and try to keep it all together. When we’re not sitting in the courtroom, our conversations are short and curt. I’m staying true to my word. I don’t pretend in private anymore, but I keep up the appearance in public. I don’t let the world know that things are not okay between us.

  After our conversation, it’s clear that things are different between us. Oliver is doing his best to make things right. He goes out of his way to be more affectionate with me. He pays for everything despite my objections.

  I’m losing sleep, losing my sanity. I don’t know how to process all of this. I try to convince myself that it’s not as bad as it sounds. That Oliver didn’t physically kill a man, but he helped move the body. He told them who to kill, he lured Matthew to the house.

  He doesn’t seem remorseful. He says he regrets it, but I don’t think he really does. I think he believes he did what he had to do and that’s that. The dead man and his grieving family mean nothing to him.

  On the seventh day of Alan’s trial, he’s found not guilty - to the shock of everyone around him. Despite the fact that the odds were stacked against him, somehow the jury found that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him. They voted eight to four on Alan’s verdict.

  I hate that I know most of those jurors were paid off.

  Another week after Alan’s verdict, he throws a party to celebrate his freedom. It’s themed and everything - a masquerade. The invitations cite that it’s a chance to let the masks fall off of who people really are.

  Oliver and I are still pretending in public, but we are a mess in private. I still can’t find the words to say to him. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. We plan to attend the party together, with coordinated outfits. I still feel broken. I feel lost. I like the life I’ve created in New York. I like my job, how it’s consistently throwing me through a loophole. I like the challenge. I like the city.

  I love Oliver...but I don’t like who he really is. I don’t like him with his mask off. He’s not who I thought he was. Some people would call him a monster and maybe...just maybe, I agree.

  Windsor Manor is decked out for the masquerade party, fancier than I’ve ever seen it. It reminds me of a palace from a movie. The pillars outside are wrapped in lavish red and gold fabric. There’s a red carpet leading from the driveway, up the stairs and into the house.

  We step inside to a room full of people dressed to the nines with the most gorgeous masks I’ve ever seen. It’s dimly lit inside, shrouding the room, giving it more mystery. We’re offered champagne as soon as we enter and I eagerly take it, downing it in one go. I’m not much of a drinker, but I need it tonight.

  “We didn’t have to come,” Oliver hissed in my ear. He’s wearing a black velvet mask that conceals the top half of his face, only his stunning grey eyes are visible through it.

  He’s been a saint these past few weeks, but that doesn’t make up for who he is. That doesn’t change what he did.

  “I wanted to come,” I murmured back, placing the champagne flute back on the tray. I can imagine my coldness is getting on his nerves, but what else can Oliver expect from me?

  Our conversation ceases at that. Alan approaches us and Oliver and he instantly engage in conversation. Before I know it, we’re surrounded by authors and business partners eager to talk about upcoming plans for Windsor Publishing. I use this distraction to make my escape, to step away.

  I find someone else with a tray full of champagne flutes and I grab two, hoping nobody is paying that much attention to the PR agent who plans to drink her weight in champagne tonight.

  I walk away from the party, from the soft sound of music and the laughter of people. The further I get, the more peace I find. I down one of the flutes and place it on a nearby table before I find solace at the foot of a staircase that leads to the other side of the upstairs area. I let out a sigh and take a seat.

  I pull off the masquerade mask I am wearing. It’s pure white with silver rhinestone accents. There are a few white feathers along the top of it. Taking it off, I feel even more free than I did when I escaped the people.

  “It feels good taking it off, doesn’t it?”

  The voice behinds me makes me jump. I turn to see Allison, her own mask in her hands. She’s wearing a soft pink dress with a fluffy tulle bottom and a tight corset top. The mask in her hands is an ornate gold.

  “It does,” I said softly. I haven’t had much conversation with Allison outside of instructing her what to do for PR. She’s always been distant, not interested in the rest of her family.

  “Why aren’t you with my brother?” she asked. She doesn’t wait for invitation; Allison takes a seat next to me on the stairs. Our dresses smoosh together, creating a mess of tulle and fabric. If a designer saw us, they’d probably be extremely upset about the dresses touching the wooden stairs.

  “He and your father were busy talking about business, so I stepped away,” I explained.

  She hums in response before saying, “So, what’s really going on with you?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, instantly becoming defensive. I can’t help it. I thought I was doing perfectly well convincing people that everything was okay.

  Allison looks at me, lips pressed into a thin line. Her brother does the same thing when he suspects someone of lying.

  “As someone who has not wanted to be a part of this family for years, I know what that looks like,” she said, matter-of-factly. “You used to seem so much happier around Ollie, but you haven’t seemed happy lately. I thought it was stress from the trial, but that’s not it.”

  Ollie. I’ve never heard her, or anyone, call him Ollie before. It’s strange. It creates a separation between Oliver Windsor and Ollie Windsor. Oliver Windsor is the playboy, the man who arranged Matthew’s murder. Ollie is the good big brother, the guy who took me for dinner at a small restaurant by the sea.

  “Just...things have happened,” I said miserably.

  The silence between us is palpable. I think both of us are waiting for the other to say something. Allison breaks the silence again, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “He told you, didn’t he?”

  I want to ask what she’s talking about, get more details about what the thing she thinks that he told me is. There could be a thousand different secrets he’s been hiding from me, but I think we both know what she’s getting at. I sigh.

  “You know too?”

  “They told me before the trial started,” she said, looking at the mask in her hands. “That’s why I didn’t show up until it was my time to testify. I couldn’t stand looking at either of them. Oliver...he just wants to make Alan happy. He wants to be the good son, so he goes to ridiculous lengths to do that. I just...I didn’t think my brother would do anything like that. Camille was a bitch. She’s not worth all this trouble.”

  I have to agree with Allison. Camille was hardly worth all of this trouble.

  “He told me the night before the trial,” I said quietly, looking out into the ballroom where people are still carrying on about their lives like nothing is happening, like they’re not in the home of a man who was tried for murder. “I can’t look at him the same an
ymore and I hate it. I don’t know what to do.”

  I haven’t said that out loud to anybody. Who can I talk to about this?

  Allison looks over at me.

  “Do you want some advice? Because I can give you some of that.”

  I swallow before looking back at her, our eyes meeting. I don’t say a word; I just nod.

  “Run,” she said. “Get away from this damned family, away from my brother. He’s on track to becoming just like my father and nobody should subject themselves to the type of person he is. I know you probably have feelings for Oliver and that’s fine, but he’s not on a good path. I don’t think anyone can pull him out of it.”

  Allison looks sad and I realize how hard this has to be for her.

  She’s losing her brother. I may have to struggle with looking at my boyfriend, the man I love, but he’s her brother. As far as I know, they were close.

  “It may suck,” she told me. “It’ll probably hurt like hell, but you gotta take care of yourself.”

  “How? I’m still under contract for another year and quite frankly, I like my job,” I said.

  Talking to Allison, I regret ever getting involved with Oliver. It’s an emotion that I’ve felt for weeks now, regretting the mistakes I’ve made, regretting getting involved. We should have kept our relationship strictly business.

  “Then just step away from Oliver,” she said. “Distance yourself before you get hurt.”

  Allison falls silent before quietly saying, “I’m planning on doing the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Distancing myself from my family,” she explained. “I know what they’re capable of now and I don’t want to be a part of it. I don’t want to get tangled up in their mess and you shouldn’t, either.”

  Before I can ask Allison any more questions, we’re no longer alone in the stairwell. We look up and Oliver is standing there, mask in hand, leaning against the doorway.

  “I didn’t know you two were friends,” he said with a smile on his face. Clearly, he’s happy about this fact.

  “Just some girl talk,” Allison said, using the railing to pull herself to her feet. She looks over at me and mouths something. I think it’s ‘good luck’, before pulling her mask on and walking past her brother, out to the ballroom with everyone else.

  Oliver walks towards me, taking Allison’s place on the stairs.

  “I missed you,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Why did you wander off?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you while you talked business,” I said, slowly taking his hand.

  “So, what were you and Allison talking about?” he asked. “Were you giggling about cute guys wearing masks?”

  I know it’s my job to say how he’s the only cute guy in a mask for me, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to flirt.

  “We were just talking about stuff. You, the party,” I brushed him off nervously.

  Can I just sit here, next to him, and keep up this charade? Allison’s words are echoing through my head. Get out. Run. They’re the same words that I’ve been thinking since the minute Oliver confessed everything to me. It’s the same advice I’d give a friend, the same advice I know any friend would give me if I was able to tell them what’s going on.

  The man next to me isn’t the man that I fell for. There’s a stark distance between the two. The man I fell for was a facade, a lie made up to lure me into his world.

  I think Oliver notices that I’m not fully here with him. I think he knows that something is wrong.

  “Yeah? Everything good, Cass?” he called me Cass like nothing was wrong. He hardly refers to me using my nickname, it’s always my full name. I think he knows what’s coming.

  I take a deep breath. It’s shaky and unsure, just like me.

  “No,” I said quietly, barely audible over the soft music playing in the background. Just loud enough for him to hear me. “Nothing’s all right. Not anymore.”

  I don’t look at him, but I know that Oliver’s body language is changing next to me. He’s stiffened, panicked. He’s upset. I don’t make eye contact when I glance over at him. His hands are on his thighs, gripping tightly onto his dress slacks.

  “Cassidy.”

  There it is. He says my name in a firmer voice, like I was just an employee, not his girlfriend.

  “Do we need to talk about this here, tonight?” he asked tersely.

  I know I need to stand my ground. I still refuse to make eye contact, glancing up at the ceiling.

  “I can’t continue living like this, Oliver. I can’t continue pretending everything is all right.”

  He reaches out, wraps his hand around my wrist in an attempt to calm me.

  “We’ll talk about this after the party, all right?”

  He speaks so calmly, and I hate it. I don’t understand how he can continue to be calm, how he can continue to act like everything is okay.

  “No. There’s nothing we need to talk about, Oliver. We’ve talked enough already, and we haven’t gotten anywhere,” I said firmly. Nothing’s going to change what happened. Nothing can change how I look at you now.”

  He’s stiff again. He lets go of my wrist and reaches out for the stair railing. He pulls himself to his feet and looks at me.

  “We’ll talk about it later, Cassidy. We should go back out to the party. People will start to wonder where we are,” he said dismissively.

  There’s something about the way he says it. It’s like a glimpse into my future if I stay, a younger version of Alan. He’s curt. He’s cut me off. He cares more about appearances than how I feel.

  I now understand why his mother left. If this is what living with Alan was like...I can’t imagine. I can’t do this anymore.

  “No.”

  I stand my ground, staying as firm as I can. I use the railing to pull myself up from the stairs. I take another shaky breath.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Oliver. I can’t live my life carrying your lies. We...we need to break up.”

  My voice is no longer quiet, not caring who overhears. Oliver needs to hear me.

  “Cassidy.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “Oliver, I can’t live like this. I can’t even look at you the same anymore. I’ll stay at Windsor for the remainder of my contract, but I won’t stay with you. Understood?”

  I feel like I’m going to cry. I can feel the tears threatening to fall. I try to hold it back as I look at his face. For a second, I see the Oliver that I fell in love with. I see hurt reflected on his face, I see weakness. We both knew this was coming after his confession, but I don’t think either of us was expecting it to be like this.

  Hurting Oliver is the last thing I ever wanted to do. Because I love him, but how can I move on with this relationship if I can hardly look at him, if I cringe at the thought of his hands touching me when I once craved it?

  The hurt disappears from his face, I watch as Oliver straightens up, puts on the mask that he’s worn for so much of his life.

  “If you feel that way, Cassidy, all right. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

  And that’s it. There’s no more talking about why we broke up, no trying to change it. He just accepts it and we move on. Or, at least, he does.

  I swallow hard.

  “All right, Oliver. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  I gather my dress in my hands, so I don’t trip over it as I leave. I walk out the front door of the manor, finding Edward outside smoking.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” I said, trying to take my mind off of what had just happened.

  “Sometimes I have to,” he said. “Sometimes it makes this job easier.”

  He drops the butt onto the concrete, stomping it out with the heel of his dress shoe.

  “Are you all right, Miss Hanson?”

  “No,” I said bluntly, shaking my head. “But...I’m going to be. Take me home, Edward?”

  “Of course, Miss Hanson.”

  This isn’t what I wanted. This is p
ainful and hard, but it is a decision that I have to make. It’s what is best for me, best for my future. As much as I love Oliver Windsor, letting him go is the only way I can protect myself.

  THE END

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  Boss’s Baby

  Fake Love Rich Boss Series

  Book 2

  By: Sloane Peterson

  Boss’s Baby

  Chapter One

  The restaurant is dimly lit, a small downtown spot in Brooklyn. The walls are red brick, with vines decorating them, giving the entire dining room a rustic look. Across from me is an incredibly handsome man. He has short brown hair that’s longer on top and buzzed on the sides. Candlelight reflects in his light brown eyes, giving them a honey-like appearance. He sips from a glass of white wine, his focus clearly on me. To everybody else in the restaurant, we look like a darling couple on a date.

  The problem is, I don’t feel a thing for him.

  Two months ago, I made the decision to walk away from someone I cared deeply for. Away from a man who would lead me down a path where I would no longer be able to look myself in the mirror.

  Gavin is safe. He doesn’t have dark secrets or demons lurking around every corner. I think by this point he has told me his entire life story - and this is only our fourth date. I sit across from him, drinking wine and smiling in his direction. I’m not miserable with Gavin. But there’s no spark. No thrill.

  It’s nothing like I used to feel.

  “Cassidy?” Gavin’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

  I shake my head, shaking away thoughts of the past, so I can turn my focus onto him.

  “Everything alright?”

  When Gavin speaks, there’s a slight southern drawl to his voice. It’s faded after years of living in the big city, after years of practicing, so there is one less thing that people can point out in you. I know because I did the exact same thing.