Double Dare: A Fake Fiancee MMF Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  CHAPTER TWO

  Katie

  I came to, my cheek cushioned on something soft. What in the world? A leather sofa caressed my curves, the material so buttery soft it was like melting into a cloud. But there were more pressing problems, like my spinning head.

  “Um?” I moaned, one hand automatically rising. “Where am I?”

  The setting was unfamiliar, a large, airy space, with a seating area on one side and a giant desk on the other. And this was no regular desk. It was an imposing slab of white marble, veined with grey and gold streaks, expensive and intimidating. Who has a desk like this? the voice in my head asked. But my common sense took over. It’s just a piece of office furniture, Katie, scolded the internal voice. Calm down, you’re injured, girl. Don’t worry about stuff like that.

  Shaking my head, I tried again.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, scrambling up, which only made the world spin again. “Where am I?”

  A kindly old man smiled back at me.

  “I’m Doctor King,” he said. “And you’re at Major Corporation.”

  My mind whirled. Major Corp.? That was a huge company on the East Side, miles away from Ninth Street Espresso. How had I gotten here? What was I doing here? But the doctor shushed me again, looking over his rimless glasses at my pale face.

  “You got a little bump, that’s all,” he said kindly. “Just a bang to the head, but you’ll be fine.”

  I shuddered, some of the facts coming back.

  “There was this one customer,” I said slowly. “He was crazy, but then another customer came to my rescue. They were fighting over bear claws,” I murmured. “You know, the pastry?”

  The kindly doctor chuckled at that one.

  “I’ve known men to fight over less,” he said. “But are you sure it was over the pastries? Are you sure it wasn’t over you?”

  I frowned, eyebrows coming down.

  “I don’t think so,” I said slowly. “Most guys don’t even see me, I’m just the barista.”

  “Well you must make a good cup of coffee then,” said the doctor with a wink. “But whatever it is, must have been serious because when Mr. Major brought you in, he called immediately. Ordered VIP treatment, nothing but the best.”

  What in the world? No one has ever thought of me, Katie Jones, as VIP material. More like I was the invisible girl, blending into the wallpaper, just a piece of furniture. So I shook my head, confused all over again.

  “Who’s Mr. Major?” I asked blearily.

  But before the good doctor could answer, the door opened and there stood my rescuer himself.

  “I’m Mason Major,” he growled, tall and dominant in a dark suit. “Welcome to Major Enterprises, Katie. You’ve had a shitty start to the day.”

  I gasped, glancing at my watch and the numbers danced before my eyes.

  “Oh my god, it’s ten a.m., I’m still on shift,” I gasped, leaping to my feet, only to fall back down dizzily. “I’m still on shift and there’s no one at the store right now, I’m gonna be fired.”

  Mason Major’s expression remained smooth.

  “I got it covered. I talked with your boss and someone else came to fill in, so you’re good.”

  My eyes goggled.

  “You talked to my boss?” I asked slowly. “You talked with Mrs. Patterson, who owns Ninth Street Espresso?”

  He nodded.

  “She was kind,” he said smoothly. “Very kind and understanding. Now Doctor King, if you’ll excuse us.”

  I shook my head. Emily Patterson was the opposite of kind. She looked like Mrs. Doubtfire but beneath that kind, matronly exterior was a snake with a tight fist and a nasty tongue.

  “Um, right,” I murmured. “Right, you spoke with Mrs. Patterson.”

  Panic was already starting to rise in my chest because my job at Ninth Street is what puts the roof over my head. I’m an art student at the Union League, and between taking classes and working on my paintings, I put in almost forty hours a week at the coffee shop to pay for tuition and housing. So if Mrs. Patterson found out what had happened, I was toast for sure. I was gonna be fired, with no way to afford school.

  Jumping to my feet, I stammered again.

  “I’m so sorry, but I have to go back. I need to get back asap because Rocky doesn’t know how to use the espresso machine and Bernard is always late. I’m sorry, but I gotta go.”

  And before the big man could say anything, I jumped to my feet and ran to the door. At least my head was better, at least I could mobilize like a normal person. But the door was locked, and I pulled uselessly at the handle, rattling it a bit.

  “What the?” I asked. “What in the world? I have to go!” I gasped, but it was no use. “Do you have the key to this thing?” I asked. “Why would it lock from the outside?”

  Mason merely smiled at me, calm and unperturbed.

  “Little girl,” he said, “It’s locked is because we’re keeping you.”

  I goggled.

  “Keeping me? What does that mean?” I said in a rush before turning back to the door and banging with my fist. “Hey!” I shouted loudly. “I’m in here, can you send a janitor please? Or the doorman? Or one of those, what do you call it? The concierge? In here, in here!” I yelled loudly.

  Mason stood to his full height, looming in the office.

  “Naw baby girl, that’s not going to do you any good,” he said. “Like I said, we’re keeping you.”

  I whirled to face him, face flushed and confused.

  “What do you mean, you’re keeping me? I don’t even know you,” I huffed. “You’re just some guy at the store this morning who happened to save me from a crazy customer.”

  “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I liked what I saw.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “I’m sorry, you liked what you saw?” I repeatedly dumbly. “All I did was sell him a bear claw, if I remember correctly,” I said. “What could you possibly have seen?”

  His smile grew a little darker then.

  “We’ve been watching,” he said. “Major Corporation has been watching and you’re the woman for our plan.”

  I gasped at him, my mouth opening and closing with shock.

  “I don’t care who you say you are, but right now, I’m trapped and I have to get back,” I said. “This isn’t the time for games, you can’t just go about kidnapping women and saying ‘We’ve decided to keep you.’ This is the twenty first century, women have rights. You can’t just lock me up, even in this fancy office,” I said, gesturing at our surroundings. “Besides I don’t know you,” I added forcefully.

  But Mason was calm and strode over to his desk, coming back with something in his hand. He got closer and I shrank away, cowering against the door, but the big man was oddly gentle as he came close, like a trainer working with a nervous filly.

  “Like I said,” that deep voice rumbled, “We’re keeping you.”

  And before I knew it, handcuffs snapped on.

  “What the?” I gasped, staring down more in surprise than anything else. The metal was cool against my wrists, glinting under the light. “What the?”

  “Some cuffs will do the trick,” the big man replied smoothly, leading me by a chain to the sofa. “I find that women like it, if it’s done right,” he added with a gleam to his eye.

  I gasped again, digging my heels in, but it did no good. The big man was twice my size, shoulders broad as a tank, and double my weight too.

  “Come on,” he said, leading me over to the couch. “Take a seat and we’ll talk about options.”

  I sputtered, plopping onto the leather because frankly, there was no other choice.

  “This is ludicrous,” I began slowly. “I’m just a barista and art student. I don’t get what’s going on. You saved me from the guy that morning, but now I’m locked up here with handcuffs? What is this, some kind of sick joke where you kidnap women? It’s not funny.”

  The dark-haired man shot me an amused glance.

  �
��Exactly,” he said, “It’s not funny at all because this is no joke. But we’d like to get to know you better. We’ve been watching you Katie, and you seem to fit the profile.”

  I goggled at him.

  “Watching me? When? How? Profile for what? What the hell is going on?”

  Mason shrugged again, the perfectly cut suit highlighting his athletic frame.

  “We have needs at Major Corp. Some very specific needs and we need someone who fits.”

  My mouth snapped shut. This didn’t sound good.

  “What needs?” I whispered. “I’m sure there’s nothing I can do for you. I’m a penniless art student, making ends meet by working as a barista. There’s nothing you could want from me. Nothing you could need. We’ve never even met,” I concluded helplessly.

  Mason was silent for a moment, just taking me in, the flushed cheeks, the hotly heaving bosom. Damn, the man was so gorgeous that I immediately scolded myself for even having the thought. So what if he had a muscled bod beneath that suit? Thighs as thick as tree trunks? So what if those blue eyes were penetrating, seeing straight to my heart? He was still my kidnapper for crying out loud, the physical shouldn’t matter even if he made me tingle deep in my puss. Putting on my most serious face, I tried again.

  “You don’t know me. There’s nothing I could possibly do for you.”

  Mason was silent, ignoring my question.

  “Like I said, we’ve been watching,” he replied smoothly. “I understand you’re a student?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes, at the Union Art League. But why does that make a difference?”

  He grinned wolfishly.

  “Who do you think owns the Union Art League?”

  I tilted my head, bewildered.

  “Some company, I guess. I don’t know, never thought about it. Why, what does that have to do with me?”

  Mr. Major grinned again.

  “It’s owned by a corporation, Major Arts, which in turn is owned by Major Enterprises,” he said smoothly. “So in fact, we own the Union Art League.”

  That made me stop. Major Enterprises is known for being a cutthroat business, as scary as it gets. Even me, Katie Jones, knows about them because the company’s name was on dozens of buildings around the city, from museums to public spaces. But the Union Art League was a school. What did the two have to do with one another? Why in the world would Major invest in an art school? And reading my mind, Mason shrugged.

  “We have investments in a lot of things, but right now, all you have to know is that Major owns Union.”

  “So?” I asked slowly. “Why does that matter?”

  His eyes gleamed again.

  “It matters because we’ve been watching, like I said,” he replied simply. “We’ve been watching you from day one, and we like what we see.”

  Again, that answered nothing and I was totally exasperated.

  “But how? What do you mean by watching? And what exactly are you looking for?” For now, I ignored the alpha’s use of “we.” There were more pressing things at the moment, like my freedom.

  Mason threw me another smile.

  “Using cameras of course,” he said, like it was completely obvious. “See that over there?” he asked, pointing to a small gray hemisphere attached to the wall. “These are all over every public building, in every hallway, every conference room, every classroom. So we watch whenever we want, it’s no big deal.”

  Okay, this was a little creepy. I knew on some subconscious level that cameras were everywhere, but it was different hearing it out loud. Besides, who looks at the tape? Mostly it was just bored security guards yawning and occasionally throwing a glance at a bank of TVs, right?

  But evidently not. This was some special ops thing, where the CEO of a company was looking at the tape himself, watching a young female come and go.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll bite. Your company owns the Union Art League, so you have videos of students. But why? Why me? What about me made you watch?”

  Mason smiled again.

  “Well for one, you are sexy,” he rumbled, blue eyes dark.

  That one made me bite my tongue. I’ve never been pretty, much less sexy, in my life. It’s always been Katie, you need to lose weight, or Katie, you’d be so attractive if you just slimmed down a little. I hate how people always stick that “if” in. If I just lost ten pounds, if I just lost twenty pounds, if I became someone completely different and shot myself in the brain. So when Mason said I was pretty, I didn’t believe it for a moment.

  “What else?” I asked, brushing off the compliment, handcuffed hands still in my lap. “You couldn’t have brought me here just to tell me that.”

  The alpha shot me another knowing look.

  “Well in fact, I did,” he said smoothly. “We like the way you look because your body indicates you’re fertile.”

  At that, I had to gasp aloud. What the hell? This was the craziest conversation in the world, bar none. But I couldn’t resist.

  “Why in the world do you think I’m fertile?” I asked slowly. “What do you know about female fertility? Why does it matter?”

  Mason wasn’t perturbed at all.

  “Well for one, our records indicate that you’re eighteen,” he said smoothly.

  I nodded, confused.

  “That’s true, but every other girl at the school is between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two,” I protested. “So I’m no different from any other female.”

  Mason nodded, acknowledging my point.

  “Yeah, but not every girl at Union has your proportions,” he continued smoothly. “We like your curves honey, they’re ripe and full.”

  I gasped again, stunned. Yes, I have a womanly body for sure, I’m like Jessica Rabbit on drugs. My boobs go out to here, and my ass goes out to there, but guys don’t talk about my body thinking about babies. The comments I got were more along the lines of hubba, hubba, yo yo yo, let’s get down, typical frat boy stuff.

  I threw him another stiff glance.

  “So?” I asked, completely embarrassed to be talking about my body with a powerful alpha male. “So what?”

  Mason looked away for a moment before turning back to gaze hungrily at my curves, that hot gaze running up and down, making me tingle

  “Well, my best scientists say that women with bodies like yours have the best chance of bearing children. And your breasts honey, they look like they could suckle twins, they’d be so full of milk.”

  By now my face was flaming and I could barely speak, chest tight, heart racing.

  “But why?” I asked in a whisper. “Why does it matter?”

  “It means that you’d be good fiancée material,” he answered smoothly. “You know, the baby-making type.”

  The air whooshed out of my lungs, breasts heaving up and down even as my insides grew weak.

  “You’re looking to have a baby?” I parroted in a whisper. “And I’m your baby mama?”

  With a careless shrug, Mason threw me another glance.

  “Sort of,” he acknowledged. “We need a fake fiancée, someone to convince the family that I’m serious about getting married. You know, that I’m a responsible family man, yadda yadda yadda. It sucks because I’ve been running Major Corp. successfully for twenty years, but that damned piece of paper was written way before that. So yeah, I need a fiancée.”

  I gasped again.

  “But why me?” I said in a low voice, barely able to control the tremor in my tone. “I don’t get it. What is all this about female fertility and ripeness?” The words were dry on my lips and I blushed just saying them.

  The big man shrugged.

  “We’ve analyzed your body using the best computers, baby, the best programs, and with the way you’re built, you’ll have no problem convincing the public that you’re pregnant.”

  My jaw literally dropped open, I was so shocked.

  “So let me get this straight,” I said slowly. “You’ve had cameras watching me for the last year,
tracking my every move as I strode through the halls of the Union Art League.”

  “And in every classroom,” he added helpfully. “And at Ninth Street Espresso.”

  I shook my head, barely able to process the information.

  “And after watching my every move, you fed the tape into computers, which determined that I was fertile,” I continued slowly. “From things like the size of my boobs,” I almost choked.

  “That’s right,” he nodded with a gleam in his eye. “Not just that honey, but a host of factors. The way your hair is shiny and thick and your skin’s clear. Don’t ask me,” he said shrugging again. “The scientists do it, they know what to look for, and based on their analysis, you’re the perfect candidate.”

  I stared at him.

  “But I could be infertile for any number of reasons, none of which would be on tape.”

  “Nope, you’re not,” the big man bit out. “We have your health records. All the times you went to the school nurse for headaches? We took your blood and saliva and had it analyzed.”

  This was now way too freaky and I stood up, holding out my wrists.

  “Uncuff me,” I demanded. “I can’t believe this has been going on. There have to be laws against this. You can’t just spy on someone without them knowing. You can’t just access a stranger’s medical records.”

  The alpha male shot me a glance, a lazy grin on his lips.

  “But what if I am the doctor? What if I am the school? Security guards who work for me review video tape. Nurses who work for me look at medical records. Get where I’m going with this? Honey, I am the man. Nothing that happened is illegal.”

  I shook my head desperately, mewling.

  “It can’t be,” I breathed, holding up my cuffs. “This has to be illegal. No way you can just cuff a random girl and tell her you’re engaged. That has to be illegal.”

  A grin spread across his face then.

  “Okay, maybe the cuffs are a lot, so fine, I’ll take them off,” he rumbled, coming close again. And oh god, but the air grew warm as he advanced, my body responding instinctively. Masculinity rolled off Mason Major in waves, a spicy scent hitting my nostrils and making my insides gush.