Playing Pretend Box Set

by Natasha L. Black

  “He threatened to kill me and make it look like an accident,” he whispered back. I gaped at him, and then realized from his mischievous grin that he was joking.

  “Do not kid about stuff like that. He used to be a cop. He knows all kinds of crime scene crap,” I said.

  “He mainly talked about his retirement. And he likes meat. So that’s good.”

  I turned back to my family, “Tonight most of our meal was raised or grown right here on Santeria. The steaks, the asparagus, even the berries in the salad.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Mom said.

  “I love steak. Don’t see much of it since I’m paying for law school,” Addy said.

  “Young lady, we paid for your bachelor’s degree. Look at your sister here, she did a two-year degree and loves her job at the vet’s. And Megan, she’s going to be running a cosmetics empire soon.”

  “I work at Sephora because I like the discount, Daddy. And because I hated writing papers in school. I did go to community college and studied business management. I didn’t just leave high school with big dreams about a boyfriend and being a car hop at Sonic or something. I don’t want you thinking Addy’s the only intellectual.”

  “I thought no such thing. I did most of my business degree online while working the ranch. My experience here taught me more than I could learn in a classroom, but my grandfather insisted I get a degree because of the scope of our holdings. I have a good financial team, but he never wanted me to rely on other people for information about our business. My father’s degree was in international marketing, and my mother went to beauty school to cut hair before she married my dad,” he said.

  I was really glad he mentioned that, because my family was pretty sensitive about education snobbery—only one daughter finished college, and neither of my parents went. They would’ve been more put off by a bunch of fancy diplomas than by all the wealth of the house that we sat in. Just the size of it, and how nice everything was, and how incredibly tidy—all of that could be pretty intimidating to anyone average like us. But they seemed comfortable, sipping drinks and waiting for dinner.

  The meal itself was delicious. I watched anxiously to see if everybody was eating, if anybody seemed unhappy or two quiet, but all was well. Raul and my mom did a lot of the talking, which meant she asked him a hundred questions, and he answered them politely. The interrogation was not what I would’ve wanted, and it was a little embarrassing to me, but I knew she just wanted to know him better and get a sense of how he felt about me. Also I learned things about him I’d never thought to ask. Like he was five when he learned to read, his favorite sport was basketball, and he loved all the Die Hard movies, even the last one that was really bad. For his part, he got to hear the story about how I decided to take over and give everyone a bath one time when I was about seven and my mom had a migraine. So I overfilled the tub, managed to get all three of us in the water and when my mom came in to see what the ruckus was about, we were all screaming and crying because we had shampoo in our eyes.

  “I thought I was helping!” I insisted as Raul chuckled along with my parents.

  “It’s a wonder I’m not blind,” Addy said. “She squeezed the shampoo right on my forehead and it just poured into my eyes.”

  “Blind? Really?” I said. “Your hair looks fine now, so I’m guessing you don’t have a crippling fear of shampoo into adulthood.”

  Raul laughed as my sisters and I teased each other about stunts we’d pulled growing up. My mother had a host of stories, while my dad had been at work most of the time and only got involved when we were in serious trouble. I wondered if he felt a little left out of the lively discussion, but my eyes met Raul’s. He looked pleased, but a little sad. I looked around the table and realized fully that every person at our family dinner was a relative of mine. His family was all dead. I had known this of course, but it struck me to see us all together, and how lonesome he must feel. It only solidified my intention to marry him to help him hold on to what he had left of his family.

  The Santeria beef was the best steak I’d ever eaten, tender and flavorful. My dad and Raul discussed how they should be cooked—my dad being a well-done man, and my future husband insisting that a good steak should never be cooked past medium doneness. I watched them closely, wanting my dad to like Raul far more than I should. It was a fake marriage. It just had to be believable, not necessarily blessed by my parents’ approval. But I knew if it was going to be real for my parents, they had to like him and trust him. I didn’t want to give them any reason to be anxious for me.

  Megan leaned over and whispered, “He is so gorgeous!” I smiled.

  “I know. And he’s mine,” I said back.

  I saw Raul talking earnestly with my dad, and I wondered what they were saying. Then Raul called for champagne with dessert, and my father tapped his glass with his fork. I think he saw that in a movie.

  “I just want to propose a toast to my daughter Allison Rose. You’ve been so excited the last few weeks about this young man. I was a little worried coming here—a father has a right to be concerned about his little girl. Meeting your young man just reminded me what a good head you’ve always had on your shoulders, Allie. I won’t deny that your mother and I think this is a bit rushed, but we give you our blessing on your engagement to this fine young man. Welcome to the Shaw family, Raul. You’re one of us now. We have season tickets to all the Longhorns home games, and you’ll need a jersey to wear. Look forward to seeing you in the family seats at the LSU games in March.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Raul said.

  “You take care of my girl,” my dad said, sounding a little gruff like he was getting choked up. So I unexpectedly got choked up too.

  My mom and sisters were squealing about the engagement. I rounded the table to hug my dad. He nodded to me.

  “Girlie, I won’t lie. I called some of my buddies on the force and had him checked out the first time you called, and we heard how excited you were about him. I was pretty impressed. No criminal record, and even his former employees I talked to spoke highly of him. I wish you’d taken longer to make a decision this big, but I can’t argue with your choice here.”

  I was both appalled and warmed by the thought that my dad had gone all detective on Raul to find out if I was safe with him. I knew my dad was protective, and Raul didn’t seem bothered by it, so I just kissed Dad on the cheek.

  “We’re very happy,” I said, “thank you for your blessing.”

  “He says I get to walk you down the aisle pretty soon.”

  “Yes,” I said, smiling up at Raul.

  He had no idea how much it meant to me that he had asked for my father’s blessing, that he had been such a gentleman and shown my father that respect. I bet it had done more toward winning over my dad than anything else could have. He kissed my forehead. We all made the toast and ate our dessert. Afterward, he took us out to the patio, which was too small and plain a word for what he had outside. A paved outdoor area with a fire pit blazing and beautiful cushioned wood furniture, a bar, a grilling area, and a free-form in-ground pool. We sat around the fire pit, admiring the moon on the water and having a beer. He charmed my sisters and my mom, and he kept his arm around me. It felt supportive. I loved the cozy feeling of well-being I had surrounded by my family and Raul in such a beautiful setting. It felt homey and wonderful. I relaxed against his shoulder, my shoes kicked off and bare feet curled up under me.

  I must have drifted off to sleep, because when I woke, everyone was saying goodbye. I rubbed my eyes and got up, giving hugs and thanking everyone, apologizing for my nap.

  “It’s fine, sweetie. It was really sweet to watch how he just held you so gently while you slept on his shoulder,” my mom said.

  I hugged my sisters and dad, and when they left, Raul took me in his arms.

  “I think it went pretty well,” he said.

  “They loved you. I’m sorry about my dad running the background check. It was a little extra.”

  “
He’s just looking out for you. I understand it. If you were mine, I’d be over the top keeping you safe.”

  “But I am yours. For the next thousand days or so,” I said with a smile.

  “Then we’d better get you a ring,” he said. “Do you want to stay over here?”

  “No, I better not. We said just once, remember? So if I stayed, it’d be more than just the once. You and I both know it.”

  “That’s true enough,” he said. “Are you good to drive or do you want me to take you?”

  “Both,” I said sheepishly, “I’m awake enough to drive home, but I’d rather you took me.”

  “Good. Because I want to see you home safe. Go get in my truck. I’ll have one of the hands run your car over in the morning, so you have it.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  9

  Raul

  Allie blew my mind. That whole night did. I knew getting married would secure my inheritance, and I was grateful to her for agreeing to be my temporary wife. What I hadn’t realized was how much my life would change, until I was at the table with her family.

  I was getting married to keep my life the same—retain the family business, preserve the legacy, keep ranch and home and staff intact. So the idea of everything changing was a surprise. I had Allie leaning over to whisper to me, her dad’s eyes on me, her sisters and mom chatting all around us, and it hit me. I was part of a family again. There were people who would have expectations of me personally, who saw me not as an employer as even Pablo did, but who looked to me as a son, a brother, a husband.

  I was part of this web I hadn’t counted on. And it wasn’t entirely pleasant. There was no Hallmark movie realization that I was part of a big happy family who loved me. There was instead the feeling that these people depended on me to do certain things, to behave in a way they found acceptable. I’d grown to adulthood as the heir apparent and part of me liked having no one to answer to, even though I missed my grandfather a great deal. It was going to be one hell of an adjustment.

  Still, I had a lot to be thankful for. Allie would be my bride so I could save Santeria. Her warmth and confidence, her playfulness, her sensuality—I was a lucky man to win three years with such a woman. She demanded nothing of me but camaraderie and sex, both of which were very satisfying. I wanted to express my gratefulness to her in some way. So I set about planning a simple ceremony at the mission church on Santiago lands. With her input, I ordered flowers, cake, hired musicians. Invitations were sent to her friends and family, to Santeria employees and the executives from Santi in Italy. In two weeks’ time, we had everything in order for the wedding and reception.

  On the eve of the wedding, I sat down at sunset with a pen in hand and wrote her a letter. It meant something to put pen to paper the old-fashioned way and form the words to tell her how I felt.

  For Allison Rose Shaw de Santiago,

  Before the ceremony tomorrow, I wanted to sit down and reflect on this journey, to put into words exactly what you’ve given me.

  To think that two months ago I had never laid eyes on your beautiful face amazes me. I cannot imagine a time when I didn’t know you, didn’t rely on you as my friend and partner in crime. I have never experienced this kind of partnership, this communion with any other person. My grandfather and I were very close, but we butted heads about the ranch too often to call it a peaceful collaboration. You and I, on the other hand, have had to negotiate some challenges already and have managed to do so while staying on the same team. My fears going into this marriage were few but serious.

  Trust isn’t something that comes easily for me. I worried about attempting any sort of marriage, even a business arrangement, because I wasn’t sure I could let anyone into my life, even enough to pretend we were in a relationship. It would have been much more difficult if it had been anyone but you. You seemed to understand me, to fit with me better than anything I could have imagined right from the beginning.

  I’m a stubborn man, and I didn’t have much faith in my willingness to compromise. If I were less stubborn, I don’t think I’d be marrying anyone to get a ranch. It seems like you’d have to be pretty damn set on what you want to do something so extreme. A fact my grandfather knew perfectly well when he set the terms up for me.

  The point is that the day I met you was the luckiest of my life. And I am a fortunate man. To meet such a woman, to win her over, to enjoy such fun and easy rapport—I cannot believe anyone else gets such an experience. I half-wonder if I have a fund of good karma from a past life that I cashed in to find you. The rest of me wonders how I’ll have to pay for such good fortune, for this gift I’ve been given. I have done nothing to deserve it, to deserve your friendship and willingness to help me save the thing I love most in all of the world.

  You have rescued me. I am not a man who believes that anyone needs to be saved, but rather that we can save or lose ourselves by choice. Still, you’ve saved me. Without you I could have lost my grandfather’s legacy, the ranch I’ve worked my whole life. I realize there could have been some other woman to say yes if you had refused, some woman motivated by the promise of money, the three years of luxury with a payoff at the end. Someone who had no use for me beyond my bank account. Such a woman would have been precisely what I deserved in this scenario.

  Yet I was spared that, spared the contempt such a woman and I would necessarily feel for one another by recognizing our own worst faults in our spouse. I was granted instead your sweetness and strength, your humor and your love for animals, your generous spirit and your delectable body.

  Manners aside, our night together was explosive. I knew that you were concerned about it being too soon, about what I would think of you for sleeping with me. What could I think except that you are wonderful? How could you be less or diminished in my eyes for going to bed with me, for sharing the most powerful and amazing sex of my life? It was so difficult to take you home and leave you with nothing more than a good night kiss. I wanted to follow you inside or to bundle you into my truck and bring you home. Here, to this ranch, to this room.

  Tomorrow we marry. Your dad will place your hand in mine, and the priest will lead us through our vows. Tomorrow you’ll be Mrs. Santiago and I’ll be a member of the Shaw clan.

  I never imagined I’d look forward to the next three years the way I do right now. Because I think we’re in for a hell of a fun ride.

  Forever grateful for you,

  Raul Antonio Santiago

  I folded the letter and slid it in an envelope. Then I tipped back a Remington oil painting and entered the combination in my hidden safe. I took out the new velvet jeweler’s case. Snapping it open, I looked at the creamy iridescence of the matched pearls I’d bought for Allie as a wedding gift. The truth was, I had my abuela’s pearls in that safe as well, and I’d considered giving those to her. But something held me back. It wasn’t a real marriage, after all. I couldn’t justify parting with a family heirloom to a woman I’d known for six weeks and planned to likely divorce in a few years. Family and legacy were the most important things to me, and if I’d been willing to sacrifice even the smallest part of that, I wouldn’t be getting married in the first place.

  I liked the idea of putting the pearls on her, and of taking her later in nothing but those pearls, so white against her skin. I licked my lips at the thought. That night my sleep was full of dreams that featured Allie in various stages of undress, looking around in confusion, wondering why something was missing. One it was her shoes, another time the flowers. We had no cake in another dream. Each time we were confounded by the absence of some important element and didn’t get married at all. When I woke up, I was tired but eager for the ceremony.

  After a good morning text to Allie, I spent half the day on the ranch. After I brushed Mantilla down and reminded Pablo to show up early as best man, I got ready. I was at the mission church an hour ahead of time. Nothing, it seemed, had been forgotten. White peonies filled the altar, and tall white candles stood in glass hurricanes along
the aisle. I had sent the letter and the pearls to Allie for her to have as she got ready. I couldn’t wait to see her in her wedding gown. She had refused to let me see it despite my insistence that it wasn’t bad luck because it wasn’t a real marriage. It was a short-term arrangement. She said maybe I should leave that out of my vows.

  By the time the wedding party started to arrive, I felt keyed up and nervous. The guests filed in. I recognized men from Milan and Sorrento who were associated with the luxury leather goods brand, as well ranch hands and their spouses, old family friends, even the lawyers. I was ready to have the farce over with and the legal team who’d failed me, but I knew that having them present would smooth the path to executing the terms of the will. I just hated the sight of them after months of their ineffectual attempts to break the conditions of the will. It gave me a hollow, resentful feeling just to see them in the crowd.

  With Pablo at my side, I folded my hands and waited. At last it was time to go to the altar. We took our places, and soon the music swelled. The old wooden doors swung open. First one Shaw sister and then another entered in long, blush pink bridesmaid gowns. The wedding march began, and our guests got to their feet.

  Allie was lovely. She entered on the arm of her father who was resolute in black, a solemn counterpoint to her bright beauty. She held a bouquet not of white peonies as I expected, but of pink cosmos and blue plumbago, my abuela’s flowers. I felt that in my chest like a blow as she came closer, the way she had woven Santeria and my family history into her bouquet. The lace dress hugged her curves and flared into a train, a delicate mantilla covering her bright hair. I was breathless as she came close. When her father gave me her hand, I pressed it in both of mine. Something ancient and sacred seemed to unfold between us that I hadn’t expected. This was a pageant, I’d told myself, a play we put on for the lawyers to witness. Nothing of this was true or holy. It was arranged and plotted like a strategy, not like a real marriage. But with her hand in both of mine, with the warm flicker of candle flames and the sweetness of flowers, it felt intoxicatingly real.