Fake Love Rich Boss Series

by Peterson , Sloane

  “We’re here today to announce that Alan Windsor and Camille Westin-Windsor are officially divorced. They settled out of court, deciding to handle the matter privately. Alan, however, would like to share a statement with the public to share his side of the story,” I state, stepping back and letting Alan step forward.

  Watching Alan approach the podium is like watching the best pitcher in a baseball game take the field. He looks more at home in the public eye than he does in his own home.

  “Good morning and thank you all for coming out,” he greets everybody with a smile. “As Cassidy was saying, my divorce with Camille has officially been finalized today. It has been a painful process, as I thought I had found the love of my life when I married her. However, I’m glad we came to an agreement to move on. Camille will be dropping the Windsor name. In the divorce, I have agreed to finance her next adventure, which is a launch of her own fashion line. I ask you to support her in this challenging time. Our marriage was complicated, but the feelings were real. I’ll forever mourn how it ended between the two of us, but please be kind to Camille as well. Thank you all.”

  Alan steps back and I step forward again.

  “Will there be any questions?” I ask, expecting a few.

  The expected questions are mostly about why Alan decided to finance her pet project, or what the status of her staying at one of the Windsor properties would be.

  A woman raises her hand, one with short dark hair.

  “Yes. Why did Mr. Windsor decide to give Camille money for a project now? Why not when they were married?”

  Bang. Knew it.

  “Camille had all the time in the world while they were married,” I explain. She didn’t need to work, so she didn’t want to. But the dissolution of her marriage inspired her to pursue dreams that she hadn’t realized she had, as often happens at the end of relationships. Any more questions?”

  An older woman raises her hand. I recognize her as one of the main reporters from one of the local news stations. I point towards her.

  “Will Camille be getting any of the Windsor properties to stay in?”

  “No. Camille has been renting her own place since the split and has decided to continue doing.”

  I expect that to be the last question. I’ve spent weeks racking my brain, trying to figure out what other questions could be asked, and I’ve come up with nothing. There’s nothing else they’d care about regarding Alan and Camille’s divorce.

  Still, in favor of playing it safe, I ask, “Any more questions? We can take one more.”

  I see a hand raised towards the back of the crowd. I can’t make out the face, but I point towards it anyway.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you,” the voice sounds familiar, but I can’t quite make it out. The person steps forward, breaking through the crowd. “Gavin Panton for NNC, Miss Hanson. It may be off-topic, but I was wondering if you’d comment on your relationship with Oliver Windsor?”

  My heart drops as soon as Gavin says his name. It drops even more after his question. I take a deep breath, trying not to look stressed or concerned about the question.

  “This conference is about Alan and Camille, Mr. Panton. I’d like to stick to the topic.”

  “That’s perfectly fine, but the whole world is curious. Are the two of you more than just work colleagues? The photos leaked last night make it appear so.”

  “Well, the world can continue to wonder. That’s a subject for another conference. With that, I’d like to thank you all for coming out. Enjoy your day.”

  I’m shaking as I step off the stage. I don’t turn to look at Oliver or Alan, but I wonder if I’ve messed it all up. Was I supposed to answer otherwise?

  Oliver takes my arm and helps me down the platform. I don’t have it in me to tell him not to. I think I’m shaking too badly. We step into the lobby, the noise from the outside world growing silent. Now it’s just Oliver, Alan, and me.

  The quietness settles over us before Oliver speaks.

  “Cassidy, you did well,” he says. “I can’t believe Panton would ambush you like that.”

  I take a seat in one of the leather chairs.

  “It wasn’t an ambush. It was a smart move. I didn’t know photos of us got leaked.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Not answering was smart, Cassidy,” Alan says, and I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. This is Alan’s plan after all. “It’ll make people wonder, make them watch the two of you that much more. This way you won’t have to come out and say it.”

  It’s the perfect PR plan. Make people wonder, make people talk about it. Confirm it without ever saying anything.

  I nod.

  “Okay, glad I didn’t mess it up.”

  Oliver reaches out for my hand and squeezes it. I can tell that he wants to do more than just squeeze my hand.

  “It’s going to be fine, Cassidy. Promise. You did just fine,” he smiles and I smile back.

  After the conference, the day falls into its regular pattern. A quick search of the internet tells me that people no longer care about Alan and Camille. Gavin turned the hot topic to Oliver and me. I find the photos that leaked online last night, it’s just the two of us holding hands as we leave the restaurant together. Nothing scandalous, but it speaks volumes.

  Lunchtime strikes and I head downstairs, planning to meet Noelle and tell her about the entire plan. That doesn’t happen. The first face I see when I step into the lobby is Gavin, sitting in one of the chairs. When he sees me, he stands immediately and makes a beeline in my direction.

  “Cassidy,” he says my name urgently, although it doesn’t quite come out as a greeting. “I tried to come up to see you, but the receptionist said that you don’t take visitors.”

  Oh, thank God for Noelle.

  “Gavin, there’s nothing to talk about. You ambushed me.”

  “I ambushed you? I thought we were getting along rather well. Imagine my surprise when I see you holding hands with your ex just days after you begged me to give you a second chance.”

  My eyes are wide, my jaw is slack.

  “Begged you? I apologized for Oliver’s behavior, I didn’t beg you for anything.”

  “You wouldn’t have apologized if you didn’t care.”

  “I apologized because I’m a good human, Gavin. You didn’t deserve his accusations or absurd questioning. I apologized because Oliver frequently doesn’t apologize for himself.”

  “Yet you crawled right back into his arms,” he spat. “Did you ever really like me? Was this just a game to get more interest in you from the network?”

  “Are you accusing me of using you for my career?” I scoff.

  I’ve never seen this side of Gavin before and I don’t like it. I’m offended by how he’s behaving, what he’s accusing me of. It isn’t like him.

  “Well, you clearly didn’t like me if you couldn’t even break things off with me before hopping back on your ex’s—”

  Before Gavin can continue, the two of us are no longer alone. I feel his presence before I actually see him. Is that a weird thing to say? I look up and Oliver is standing behind me. I realize how threatening he appears in this situation.

  “I’d suggest you don’t finish that sentence, Panton,” he says with his eyes narrowed. “I’d suggest that you turn around and leave the building before you do something that you’ll regret.”

  There’s something poisonous about his words, maybe even dangerous.

  “See! I can’t even have a conversation with you without him jumping in now. Cassidy, I just want an answer,” says Gavin. “Are we over? Can you at least give me that?”

  I sigh. I don’t want to deal with this today. It’s stressful, maybe a little too stressful.

  “We’re over, Gavin.”

  “Can we at least talk about why?”

  “Maybe another time, I don’t want to talk to you anymore today.”

  I’m upset. I just wanted to eat lunch and touch base with Noelle,
now I just want to curl up on my couch upstairs and process how today has gone.

  Gavin opens his mouth again, but Oliver speaks before he can.

  “She’ll talk to you when she feels like it. Right now, I suggest that you leave.”

  Gavin looks at both of us one last time before turning to leave the lobby. I can tell he’s upset and that I’ve hurt him - and that was never my intention. I wanted to let him down gently.

  I’m left feeling guilty. Maybe things with Gavin weren’t going like I wished that they would, but that didn’t matter. He’s a good guy, a nice guy. Maybe not the love of my life, but I might have had a future with him.

  I slowly turn around to look at Oliver, who’s still standing behind me, watching Gavin leave.

  “I didn’t need backup,” I tell him, trying to keep my tone even.

  He raises an eyebrow, glancing down at me.

  “Maybe so. But I don’t want you stressed out right now. All he was going to do was stress you out,” he says so matter-of-factly that I want to slap him.

  I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that he knows that he’s right.

  “Let me fight my battles, Oliver,” I say, going to step around him.

  “Lunch plans?”

  “I’m eating with Noelle. Is that a problem?”

  He holds his hands up in front of him, shaking his head.

  “No, no. No problem. Just didn’t want you to eat alone. I was going to offer...”

  We used to eat lunch together every day, and since our split, I have definitely missed that. But eating with Noelle is tradition, and well, we have a lot to catch up on now.

  “You’re what?!” Noelle’s eyes are wide as she sits across from me, confusion on her face. “I’m sorry, let me see if I heard that right. Oliver and you are pretending to be a couple, so you don’t ruin the Windsor name with your pregnancy.”

  “Or my name,” I tack on as if that makes it seem any better.

  I realize that to someone on the outside our plan won’t make any sense. But I understand the point that Alan was trying to make.

  She shakes her head.

  “I feel like this is some crazy ploy by Oliver to get the two of you back together. But that’s none of my business,” she takes a sip from her water. “I trust you, Cassidy. If you think this is best for you, I’ll do my best to support it.

  She takes another sip before muttering under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear her, “still think you’re crazy though.”

  And I get it. I’m starting to wonder whether I’m crazy or not too.

  “You can’t tell anyone though” I tell her. “We’re just going to be together until the baby is born and then announce our split a few months after. It’ll look better that way.”

  “This feels like some 1960s sexist thing where you can’t have a baby out of wedlock,” Noelle shrugs, then senses me glaring at her before she continues. “Look, I said I’ll support it. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t criticize it. I can do both.”

  “Can you? Because I feel like those are two opposite motions.”

  “Well,” she shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Of course, you will.”

  “So, what’s next? Do the two of you get filmed making out in public or...?”

  I stare at Noelle for a moment. Not because her question is out of line, but because... I don’t know the answer to it. I don’t know what the next step for Oliver and me is. I’ve been letting him take the lead.

  “I don’t know,” I admit to her, looking back down at my sandwich. “I guess maybe we should be seen together a few more times first?”

  Chapter Seven

  That’s exactly what we decide to do. Oliver and I go on a few more dinner dates, averaging about twice a week. Each one goes as smoothly as the first one did. We find a nice restaurant, get a table, and sit and chat. We hold hands and make eyes at one another, and I begin to wonder how much of it is fake. When we are together, he has all of my attention and I realize that it works the same way for him. His attention is solely on me and each time, for a moment, I always seem to forget that we’re just pretending.

  After Gavin’s question at the press conference and the appearance of our first photos together, I start to notice the paparazzi more often. I see the flashes when Oliver helps me out of the car and when we hold hands while entering or leaving. Occasionally, I notice the camera flashes while we eat dinner.

  Those are the ones I hate the most because it feels like a serious invasion of my privacy. I’m beginning to feel self-conscious when eating, but I don’t have a choice. I have to eat, I’m pregnant.

  I reach the 11 week mark of pregnancy without a hitch. My nausea remains, but Alan often allows me to work from home or just tells me to come in after lunch.

  Oliver just laughs and tells me that Alan is excited to become a grandfather.

  We make the decision to tell people about the pregnancy, my mother included, when I enter the second trimester. Dr. Johnson recommends it, just to be safe, in case something was to happen. The idea that ‘something’ could happen leaves me frightened, unsure of how to handle the possibility. But Oliver has been there for every appointment, holding my hand and making me feel calm.

  I sit in the passenger seat of his car, something that’s becoming more and more common again. The music plays softly in the background as he drives. We’re on the familiar straight road, where the buildings become trees and the hustle and bustle become silent. He convinced me to come over for dinner, instead of going out.

  I stare out the window, watching the sun set over the water. Orange and pink hues color the sky and I realize how much I’ve missed this sight. Since our split, I haven’t had a reason to be out this way. I’m glad I am now.

  “You know,” I speak, breaking the silence between us. “I don’t think having dinner at your house will be headlines tomorrow morning. Unless they’re camped at your place.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he grins, stealing a glance in my direction.

  “Look, I’m just saying, I think you wanted to get me alone.”

  We’ve reached the point where joking is okay between us again, where neither of us is uncomfortable. I know I have to keep my wall up because I know Oliver could slip back in with ease. It doesn’t mean we have to spend our time together miserable.

  “You got me,” he says. I can hear the mischief in his voice. “I lured you to my home, full of staff, to have you alone for a minute. I’m going to seduce you with my skill in the kitchen.”

  “You’ve tried that before.”

  “And you found my spaghetti delicious.”

  “Never said I didn’t,” I grin over to him.

  It all feels natural and maybe I should be thankful for that. The entire faking it situation would be much more difficult if we had to force things. We fall back into silence with ease, music in the background. I realized after a few times back in his car, Oliver had programmed the station into his radio. He had to have done that after we split. I find it endearing. Especially because he never used to listen to music.

  The gate opens to the Windsor mansion and Oliver drives through. He takes the curved driveway, stopping in front of the home. The same valet from my first visit opens the door for me and I step out, waiting for Oliver to come around and take my elbow to lead me inside.

  Nothing has changed inside the home. It’s still finely decorated, reminding me more of a museum than of a home. Everything is pristine, hardly appearing to have been touched. We turn down the hallway that leads to the large dining room and into the finely furnished kitchen. It’s empty.

  “Take a seat,” he says, pulling out one of the stools for me.

  I take a seat at the kitchen counter. Realizing it’s just the two of us and there’s not a real need to mind my manners, I rest my elbow on the counter and put my chin in my hand.

  I’m exhausted. The longer I’m pregnant, the more exhausted I feel. Waking up in the morning is becoming a real strug
gle, and by noon I feel like I need a nap. Oliver has his back turned towards me, moving around on the counter.

  “So, what are you making me?” I ask him.

  “Well,” he turns around to look at me. He leans back against the counter and a part of me wants him right then and there. I think my cheeks even heat up at the images that are flashing through my mind. I’m quick to chalk it all up to pregnancy hormones. “What do you want?”

  He pushes off the counter. He approaches the island and leans over it. He mocks the way I’m sitting, putting his chin in his hands.

  Like this, Oliver looks younger. He looks playful and handsome. A few pieces of his blonde hair fall into his face and he doesn’t bother to push it away.

  He speaks again.

  “What have you been craving? I want to make all your pregnancy dreams come true. Throw it at me and I’ll make it for you.”

  “What if you don’t know how?”

  He grins then, only making himself look more boyish.

  “I’ll figure it out. Hit me.”

  “Bacon,” I admit.

  I’ve been craving bacon for a few weeks now, getting a BLT for lunch almost every day with Noelle. She had told me earlier that just looking at bacon was beginning to make her feel sick, but to me, it sounds like the most delicious thing I could put into my mouth.

  “Bacon? On what?”

  “Anything.”

  “Anything anything?”

  I nod. “I think I could eat bacon on anything right now.”

  Oliver leaves the island and goes over to one of the fridges, looking through it.

  “Alright. We have bacon. What do you want with it?”

  I shrug, “Surprise me.”

  “Do you trust me that much?”

  I feel like that question is a double-edged sword. Because I feel like I trust Oliver, but I know that I shouldn’t. I trust him with simple things. Making me dinner, driving me around, listening to my opinion. I don’t trust him not to keep huge secrets from me, or to keep his nose clean and stay out of trouble. I don’t trust him not to have someone murdered - that’s what was the downfall of our relationship in the end.