Fake: A Fake Fiance Romance

by Rush, Olivia

  “That’s what the intercom is for,” said Bryce, a tinge of impatience to his voice.

  “I know, and I tried to call you, but it was turned off.”

  “Ah, damn,” he said. “That’s right. Well, let him know I’ll be ten minutes.”

  “Will do,” she said.

  The door shut, and it was just Bryce and me once again. From across the room he flicked his eyes in my direction, an oddly serious expression on his face.

  “I think it’s time for you to go,” he said, his tone somewhat cold.

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “I figured.”

  He glanced away for a brief moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next.

  “What just happened isn’t going to be taking place again. You and I both got carried away.”

  “Right,” I said. “Just both got swept up in the moment.”

  “I’ll allow us one slipup like that, but from here on out, you and I are going to be more professional about this thing of ours.”

  I nodded.

  He opened the door and gestured for me to leave.

  “I’ll be in touch later today. Collect whatever you want to bring to my place, and I’ll have someone come pick you up around seven. That work?”

  “Sure,” I said, standing up and grabbing my purse.

  I strode across the office, wondering what was on Bryce’s mind. Once I reached the door, he gave me another strange look as he held it open.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  “See you then.”

  I stepped out of the office, and the door shut behind me.

  I couldn’t help myself—the words “what the fuck?” shot out of my mouth under my breath, attracting the attention of the nearby receptionists. My face went red, and I hurried to the elevators as quickly as I could without looking crazy.

  Once I was back in my office, I shut the door, locked it, and collapsed into my desk chair. The events of the last hour played over and over in my head with the strangeness of a dream.

  I’d really done it. I’d fucked Bryce Carver, head of the company and my freaking boss. And it wasn’t just like we’d had a little one-off thing—now the two of us were about to start something potentially even more insane than what we’d already done.

  I hurried through the rest of the workday, eager to get back to my studio and get my belongings ready for moving into Bryce‘s apartment. Sure enough, at seven on the dot, my phone vibrated in my purse.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “You ready?” came Bryce’s cool, smooth voice on the other end.

  “About as ready as I’m going to be,” I said.

  “Good. Come out front.”

  I picked up the two bags I’d packed full, figuring I’d be able to get whatever else I needed later. With a deep breath, I stepped out of my apartment, and a big smile spreading across my face at what I saw.

  It was a gorgeous, coal-black half-limo, Bryce leaning against the side dressed in a dark suit and just-as-dark pair of aviator sunglasses. Once he laid eyes on me, he pushed himself off the car and approached.

  “Set those down,” he said, gesturing to the bags.

  I complied, and he quickly picked them up. The bags were heavy, but he lifted them effortlessly.

  “Nice ride,” I said, my eyes on the car. “When you said that you were going to send for my things, I had more of a ‘moving truck and a pair of fat guys’ thing in mind.”

  “It’s not too late,” he said. “I can call over a couple of dudes in dirty undershirts if that’s what you’re in the mood for.”

  “This should do just fine,” I said.

  Bryce hefted my bags toward the car, a chauffeur stepping out of the front seat to place them in the trunk. Bryce opened the door to the back of the car and gestured for me to step in.

  The interior of the car was plush and luxurious and sleek. I sank into the leather seats, relaxing instantly. Bryce got in across from me and gestured for the driver to get going. The partition between the back and the front of the car raised, and it was just me and Bryce. The car took off smoothly, and we were soon on the road leading back into the city.

  “Rest of the day go well?” he asked, as though we’d done nothing more than grab lunch earlier.

  “About as well as could be expected,” I said. “Still getting settled into how you do things at your humble company.”

  He chuckled.

  “With as much money as I’ve spent on that building, ‘humble’ isn’t really what I’m going for.”

  I smirked, then shook my head.

  “I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” I said. “Tell me this isn’t the bad idea to end all bad ideas.”

  “It’s a great idea,” he said. “And it’ll go off without a hitch as long as the two of us play our parts perfectly.”

  “Is that what happened earlier today?” I asked, broaching the subject of our little office fuck session.

  “That was…unexpected. But the more I think about it, the more I’m glad it happened when it did.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

  “It is,” he said. “I was a little foolish in thinking that there wouldn’t be any sexual tension between the two of us. I mean, you’re a gorgeous woman—it’s part of the reason why I picked you for the position.”

  A tingle spread up from the back of my neck at his compliment. Stupid, I know, but it’s the effect he had on me.

  “And it’s better that you and I got it out of the way as soon as possible. Now that our heads are clear, we can focus on the task at hand.”

  “Very calm and calculated,” I said. “But you’re probably right.”

  Those were my words, but deep down I knew that if Bryce wanted to fuck me right there in the back of the car I would’ve been more than happy to let him. Just the thought of it was enough to make my pussy clench.

  I scolded myself internally for the thought, turning my attention back to Bryce.

  “We’re going to be spending a lot of time around each other, you know, and we’re going to have to learn to control ourselves if this is going to work. So,” he went on, “tonight I’ll give you a quick tour of the place and let you get settled in. We’ve got a big weekend ahead, and I want you to be ready.”

  “What sort of ‘big weekend’ did you have in mind?”

  “The ball, remember?” he said. “That‘s going to be when I announce our marriage to the city. But before that, I’ll need to take you into town and get you something appropriate to wear.”

  A shopping trip courtesy of the richest man in town. I could barely imagine what he had in mind.

  Outside the car the towers of downtown began to loom over us. We were approaching the ritziest, wealthiest part of the city, and I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that this was where Bryce lived.

  We eventually came to a stop in front of a skyscraper made of steel and glass and gold.

  “We’re home,” said Bryce with a smile.

  He opened the door and helped me out, the chauffeur meeting us with my bags. The three of us entered the vast lobby of the place, which was an enormous room dominated by a large, marble fountain.

  “Quit gawking and come on,” he said with a smirk. “We’re going up to the top.”

  He led me down a hallway lined with banks of elevators, the two of us coming to a stop in front of a smaller elevator set off from the rest. The chauffeur set down the bags as Bryce slipped him a tip, and he was off.

  The doors opened, and the two of us stepped inside. I noticed that there was only one other button besides the one for the lobby—it was a private elevator, just for Bryce.

  “I’ll get you taken care of with the front desk so you can come and go as you please. But this will be the only elevator you’ll need to use.”

  We rose quickly, getting higher and higher by the second. Once we arrived at the top of the building, the doors opened with a gentle “ding.”

  I wasn’t sure what I expected fr
om Bryce’s apartment, but nothing would’ve prepared me for what I saw. It was a penthouse apartment in the classic style—a huge open room with modern décor and a view that made the one in his office look like nothing. Beyond the tall windows was a sweeping balcony, the glittering lights of San Francisco at night stretching out into the distance.

  “Nice pad,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Barely get to spend any time here, but it’s nice to come home to when I can.”

  He set down my bags and stepped into the space, his shoes echoing in the vast expanse.

  I wandered in, feeling as though I was in a museum, somewhere I was allowed to look, but not touch. A huge fireplace sat to the right, carved out of white marble, a set of matching white furniture in front of it. In the back was a huge, twelve-person dining room table positioned right in front of the windows that looked out over the city. It was luxury I’d never known before.

  “You hungry?” he asked, making his way toward the open kitchen and grabbing a bottle of wine from a rack full of them.

  “I could eat a little something,” I said.

  “I hope you’re in the mood for more than a ‘little something,’” he said. “I had dinner delivered from Aster.”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “You mean the restaurant with the Michelin Star and the two-month wait? You just had them deliver? I didn’t know places like that even did delivery.”

  “I’m pretty tight with the head chef,” said Bryce, glancing down at the bottle of wine in his hands. “I helped him out back when he was still getting started in the restaurant biz, so he likes to swing me a favor every now and then.”

  The mention of food had my stomach growling. Bryce opened up the doors leading to the balcony, a rush of cool air coming in to greet me.

  “After you,” he said, stepping aside.

  “Thank you,” I said, more than a little charmed by his gentlemanliness.

  Before I stepped out, I looked at what Bryce had set up for us. There was a small table draped with a white linen cloth, along with two place settings, both plates covered with a silver platter. Two candles flickered a dim light over the scene. Pretty damn nice for a quick bite at the end of the day.

  And as I crossed the threshold, Bryce placed his hand on the small of my back. His touch sent a spark running through me, and my knees went weak.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what the two of us would be having for dessert.

  Chapter 8

  Bryce

  Chelsea was dressed in casual clothes—jeans and a fitted T-shirt—with her hair down and loosely draped over her shoulders. Even so, I couldn’t take my damn eyes off her. Her beauty was effortless and was somehow even more striking when she was dressed simply.

  Part of me regretted my decision to choose her. Maybe this would’ve been easier if I’d selected a woman who was less stunning.

  “So,” she said, unfolding her napkin and setting it on her lap. “What’ve we got?”

  “Take off the lid and find out,” I said. “Chef always makes it a surprise when I ask for delivery.”

  We both lifted our lids at the same time, the delicious scent of cooked meat wafting up to greet us.

  “Ohh,” she said. “Looks like…pork?”

  “Dry aged pork with kohlrabi, nectarine, and smoked garum,” I said, reading off the small card that had come with my food.

  “I have no idea what ‘garum’ is, but it looks delicious to me,” she said.

  “Let’s have a toast first,” I said, pouring us both a healthy serving of wine from the bottle I’d brought out.

  “A toast sounds good,” she said. “To what?”

  “Hmm,” I said. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. How about to making sure we get away with this little adventure of ours.”

  She smiled that broad, bright smile of hers that managed to somehow make her already beautiful features light up even more.

  “That works for me,” she said.

  We raised our glasses and tapped the rims, a small ting sounding through the evening air. I took a sip, the rich wine absolutely delicious.

  “Wow,” she said. “This is really good stuff.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Something I picked up the last time I was in the Côtes du Rhône region.”

  “Ah, that place,” she said with a smirk. “Love going there.”

  “Not much for traveling?” I asked.

  “I am, but I never get the chance. I’ve been so busy with my company over the last couple of years that I’m lucky if I can get out of the metro area.”

  “You know,” I said, “every employee at Carver gets vacation time. Mandatory vacation time.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Mandatory?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Something about this city attracts workaholics. That might sound nice, but even the most type-A sorts of people have their burnout point, which I found out the hard way when I learned that plenty of people weren’t taking their vacation time, instead choosing to work the entire year. So, I made taking at least two weeks off a year mandatory.”

  “Oh my god,” she said, shaking her head as she cut into her pork. “I don’t know what I’d do with two weeks. Probably spend it on my phone desperately trying to get things done.”

  “Then you’re one of the workaholics I was talking about,” I said.

  “You know as well as anyone that you can’t build a company in this city without being addicted to working,” she said.

  She popped the meat on the end of her fork into her mouth, her eyes going wide and then rolling back in almost orgasmic delight. I knew her expression was from the food, but that didn’t mean the sight of her in total bliss didn’t turn me on.

  “I take it by that face you’re happy with the food?” I asked.

  She pointed down with her fork as she chewed. “I know it’s just pork, but holy crap!”

  “That’s the second time I’ve seen you make that face today,” I said with a smirk.

  She narrowed her eyes in a teasing way. “I had a moment of weakness,” she said. “I think we both did.”

  “So,” I said, changing the subject, “I did a little bit of research about you before I brought you on board for the job, but I think that you and I ought to get to know each other a bit more if we’re going to pretend to be engaged.”

  “You did some research?” she asked. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’ve had a team of secret agents following me for the past week.”

  “No,” I said. “Just some looking through your employee records. Born and raised in Florida?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “And before you ask—no, I don’t love the beach.”

  “You’ve got some strong feelings about the subject, I can see.”

  “Just wasn’t the place for me,” she said. “I knew from a very young age that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in the Sunshine State, and by the time I got accepted into college here in California, I was so ready to get the hell out there it wasn’t even funny.”

  “Didn’t you miss all of your friends?” I asked.

  “All of my—” She stopped, and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking about high school. No, I didn’t have many friends to leave behind. Or any, really.”

  Now I was curious.

  “What do you mean? I’m finding it really hard to imagine a woman like you not being popular in high school.”

  “Well, imagine it,” she said. “Because that’s how it was. I was the definition of a late bloomer—totally gawky, no fashion sense, and I was on my computer so much that half the time I didn’t know how to talk to anyone. And I had braces.”

  “I was wondering how you’d gotten such perfect teeth,” I said with a smirk.

  “I have three years of walking around with a mouth full of metal to thank for that. Didn’t do much for my dating life, but I sure got some nice chompers out of the deal.” Sh
e speared some greens with her fork and placed them in her mouth, then looked away as she chewed thoughtfully. “And I’m guessing that you didn’t have the same high school experience as me?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t sound that way at all,” I said. “I was more of the jock type. Though more because of pressure from the old man than anything else.”

  Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “The jock type, huh?” she asked, clearly intrigued. “And what sort of jock are we talking about here? The football kind? The basketball kind?”

  A sly smile played on her face as she leaned over her plate.

  “The football kind,” I said. “Captain of the team, actually.”

  “Now that’s a shock,” she said.

  “And why do you say that?”

  “You’ve got the physique for it, but you just don’t really seem the type.”

  I took a bite of my pork and let it rest on my tongue, the meat melting in my mouth. Damn, it was good.

  “That’s because I wasn’t,” I said. “I managed to make captain, but nothing about football appealed to me. Sure, the competition was fun, but that was it. Not to mention I wanted to keep my brain from turning to mush from years of tackles.”

  “Smart man,” she said.

  “Yeah, too smart for my own good. I managed to parlay my talents into a scholarship, but when my first year was over, I told my dad that I didn’t want to keep playing, that I wanted to focus on school and business… Let’s say he didn’t take it too well.” I waved my hand, not wanting to go into my past any more than I already had. “But enough about me,” I said. “I’m more interested to hear more about you before you came into your looks.”

  A slight blush appeared on Chelsea’s cheeks.

  “Not sure what else there is to say. Oh! There was this one time in high school when the other girls in one of my study groups dared me to ask out the captain of the basketball t—”

  The vibration of my phone on the table stopped Chelsea mid-sentence. Without me glancing down to see who it was, my hand shot out and hit “silent,” making the buzzing stop instantly.