Mister Fake Fiance

by Lee, Nadia

  As the silence stretches, her face falls. “I look weird, don’t I?” She looks down. “Everyone was looking at me funny. I should’ve known.”

  “No, no,” I say quickly. “You don’t look weird. You look perfect. You’re perfect.”

  She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

  “Very. You’re just…” I try to come up with something more creative, but can’t. “Perfect.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Do you know how many times you said perfect?”

  “I don’t care. It’s the right word, because that’s what you are.”

  Finally a genuine smile breaks over her anxious face, like sunlight piercing through dark clouds. I’m struck with so many emotions that I can’t begin to untangle them all. But they make my heart feel funny…and achy. I wish she could see what I see—a beautiful young woman whose smile can make my pulse throb, my heart sing. It’s tragic—and infuriating—that she doesn’t realize how special she is.

  “I should give Josephine a hefty bonus.”

  “She was so nice,” Erin says. “And funny. Very stubborn, too.”

  “I’m glad. I would’ve been disappointed if you showed up in a white blouse and dark pencil skirt again.”

  She flushes, her rosy cheeks making her even prettier. In case I sounded like I was critical of her office outfits, I add, “Not that there’s anything wrong with pencil skirts, but you could use some variety.”

  “She even forced a couple of purses on me.” Erin shifts around a little. “I hope you don’t mind. But if you do, I can return them. I haven’t used them or anything.”

  I laugh at her contradictory behavior. Her words are saying one thing, but her body language is saying another. “Look, I bought them for you to enjoy. You should keep everything. Actually, I’m disappointed Josephine didn’t force more bags and shoes on you. Only a couple? Shame on her.”

  Erin smiles. “Thank you, David.”

  “My pleasure. And it’s just in time—Dane and Sophia invited us over for dinner tomorrow.”

  She starts, the smile vanishing from her face. “They did?”

  “You’re free, right?” I already know the answer. From what I’ve seen, her social life is pretty barren. I hate it that it’s the case. Warren said she’s only good for eliciting pity. I suspect he isn’t the only one in her life who’s used her for that purpose. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so uncertain of herself.

  Thinking about the conversation with him still makes my blood boil, but I keep my expression smooth.

  “Yes, of course. Should I arrange for flowers and some other gift?” She purses her mouth. “Should we bring dessert?”

  “No! No.” If I make Dane and Sophia taste one of Erin’s desserts, Dane will murder me. Or—worse—tell Erin the truth about her baking. “It’s best we let them figure out the menu. Dane’s very particular.” Both of these statements are true.

  “Okay.”

  “And Erin?”

  “Yes?”

  “We have to talk about us tonight.”

  A sudden wary light enters her blue eyes. “We…do…?”

  Jesus, she’s looking at me like I just asked her to confess her darkest sin. “Dane and Sophia are going to ask questions, and we want to tell the same story.”

  She relaxes. “Oh. Certainly.”

  “Over dinner?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll arrange for takeout, if you don’t mind?” She smiles.

  “Actually, I already made a reservation. For seven.”

  “Am I dressed okay?” she asks, biting her lower lip.

  “Like I said, you’re perfect. And the dinner’s going to be perfect too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Erin

  When David said he’d made a reservation, I thought maybe we’d go to one of the restaurants nearby, or maybe his favorite steakhouse.

  Instead, we arrive at a place called Éternité. A maître d’ in a perfectly pressed tuxedo nods when David murmurs something to him, and another person, a woman in a black cocktail dress, leads us through the main area to a loft.

  The restaurant is gorgeous inside, with pretty translucent hangings, a lovely décor that’s an elegant mix of East and West, and an open kitchen with countless pans and pots being tossed and moved around by a bewildering number of chefs. One throws some liquor over a wok, and flames erupt in spectacular orange and blue. Three bartenders stay busy serving drinks.

  The customers are obviously well-heeled—either from David’s social circle or with a generous corporate expense account. Their clothes and jewelry look expensive. Unlike me, they seem at ease, like this is how they eat all the time.

  Once again, I’m grateful David hired Josephine. My usual attire wouldn’t fit in here. And it’d embarrass both of us. But I’m still unsure why we’re at a restaurant this fancy when all we’re here to do is get our stories straight. And there must a waiting list for a place like this. So how long has David been planning this dinner?

  The woman gestures at one of the best tables in the loft with a small flourish. A single orchid sits on top of the white tablecloth—a simple centerpiece. It’s a bit too elegant and lovely to be just dinner. It’s starting to feel like…

  A date?

  But that’s…silly, isn’t it? We don’t have a dating relationship, just a fake engagement. It’s so fake that we have to concoct a story about how we got together.

  “Here you are, sir. Ma’am.” She pulls out a chair for me, waits for me to sit down and does the same for David before leaving.

  “Wow,” I say, leaning over the table so I don’t have to speak too loudly. “This is incredible.”

  David smiles. “Thought you’d enjoy it.”

  “What kind of food do they have?”

  “French-Japanese fusion. It’s interesting. Lots of new ingredients and textures. It’s quite popular. One of the best places in the area, actually.”

  I smile. “That sounds amazing.” I love the way food feels in my mouth. That’s the only way I can enjoy it. My doctor told me that people often lose their appetite after an accident that affects their sense of smell, but I just found a different way to cope. “I’ve never been anywhere this fancy before.”

  He tilts his head. “Didn’t you go to the welcome reception at Sweet Darlings when you first joined? We do it at the Ritz every year.”

  “Yeah, but that was a corporate event. This isn’t.” Wait, that sounds like I’m giving this dinner more meaning than I should. I clear my throat. “What I mean is, it’s just two of us.” Okay, that sounds worse. “Like you the boss and me the assistant.” There. Much better.

  David’s eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t want to think about us as boss and assistant. Éternité is more for couples, especially given its history.”

  “History?” I don’t know that much about the city’s restaurants. Only which ones are David’s favorites, and where it’s difficult to get a last-minute table.

  “Yeah, the owner dedicated it to his fiancée. They’re married now. Expecting a child.”

  “Wow. That’s really…sweet,” I say, my heart feeling a small pang. What would it be like to be loved that much? Or have kids? I used to dream about a family of my own, until I realized that if I had kids, they could suffer like me. Maybe even resent it when they found out. I did too for a while when I was a shamefully immature teen who simply didn’t understand how selfish and ridiculous I was being.

  I shake the thought off. David didn’t bring me here to brood about the past, and I don’t want him to ask why I’m moody.

  Our server brings the menus. I ask David to order wine for me, since I don’t know anything about it.

  The dinner offerings are extensive, and I bite my lip. There are no prices listed. Which means it’s really pricey. What’s appropriate to order?

  Dad likes to order the most expensive stuff on the menu when there are people he’s trying to wine and dine, but when it’s just family, he expects me to order something th
at is no more than mid-tier in pricing, saying we ought not to be frivolous with our money. Maybe the catch of the day would be best. It comes with grilled seasonal vegetables.

  “What are you getting?” David asks, skimming the menu.

  “The catch of the day.” I close the leather folio.

  He lifts his head. “That’s all?”

  I nod.

  “Are you sure? Might be a little bland.”

  Bland? “I thought you said this was one of the best restaurants in the city.”

  “Try the seven-course dinner instead,” he says, ignoring what I pointed out.

  I open the folio and flip through until I find it. Holy mother of God. It takes up two pages. Each course except for the main entrée comes with multiple items to “delight the most discerning palate.” More like to “delight the bean counters of the establishment” when the patrons fork over Lord only knows how much after such a meal.

  “Seems like a lot of food…”

  “You’re not eating seven entrées. Trust me.” He taps his menu with his index finger. “I want to get it, and it’ll be awkward if you watch me eat course after course while you have just one thing.” He gives me a sad puppy face. “I really hate feeling awkward when I eat.”

  I have to laugh. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. Now I can enjoy my meal. I’ve always wanted to try it. And if you don’t like something, just send it back and they’ll substitute something else.”

  That seems like such a hassle, though, and I don’t want to look like I’m being picky, especially when I can’t taste anything anyway. I can just wait for the next course if I don’t care for the texture of something.

  When the server returns, we order. He’s very prompt and efficient. Almost immediately after we’re finished ordering, he returns with a bottle of red, then pours a little for David to approve. At his nod, he serves it to me and David both, then leaves.

  “So. What kind of details should we get right?” I ask, then take a small sip of the wine. Since I’m the one who asked him to be my fake fiancé, I’m willing to go with any story he comes up with.

  “Something along the lines of how you fell madly in love with me and decided to marry me?” he jokes.

  I laugh. “Really? That’s all there is to the story?”

  He grins. “Or maybe we should get to know each other better. Dane’s not that social, but Sophia is. She’s going to ask about everything, from the exact circumstances under which we met to when we fell in love to when we decided to get married. That means I need to know as much as possible about you, including what you like, don’t like…all that stuff.”

  “What I like?” It seems like too much probing. “Why would you need to know that to tell her what she wants to know?”

  “What if she asks, ‘What did you get her for her birthday?’ and I say, ‘Flowers,’ and she goes, ‘What kind of flowers?’” He uses a falsetto tone for Sophia’s part. “It’s going to be embarrassing if I can’t come up with something that’s genuine and plausible.”

  “Fair enough. I wouldn’t want you embarrassed.” Especially when my reason for roping him into this fake engagement is as selfish as wanting to experience a normal relationship with a guy who doesn’t want to use me to benefit his career. Besides, it isn’t like my favorite flower is a national secret. “I like hyacinths.”

  “That’s unusual. You just making it up?” David asks, half teasing, half serious.

  I shake my head. “They’re only beautiful when all the flowers bloom together. I love the way every blossom is, you know, in harmony with others. How no one bloom is more precious than another.” That’s what I always wanted for myself. Not to be special, but not left out or rejected. Just normal. Part of something lovely.

  I push the longing away before it depresses me. This is about David and me getting our stories straight.

  David is giving me an odd look. Then he clears his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind. So I gave you hyacinths for your last birthday.”

  “That works.” I suppress a wistful sigh. Nobody’s ever gotten them for my birthday. Or any occasion.

  “Sophia’s going to want to know the color, too.” He frowns for a moment. “She can get really nosy.”

  “She’s probably just a curious person,” I say. She seemed super nice when she came by to drop off the dress. “But purple. I love purple.”

  “Really? I thought your favorite color was beige…maybe gray…”

  I laugh at his feigned confusion. “That’s for work! Purple’s stunning, and it’s a mix of blue and red. I mean, who was the first person to realize that if you mix two different shades, you’re going to get a gorgeous new color? I think that’s so cool.”

  The first course arrives, and our meal starts. I enjoy the cool texture, the buttery feel of the soup in my mouth.

  “So, what about you?” I ask. “I want to be prepared too.”

  David nods. “I don’t have favorite flower, but I like red. Bright, beautiful and passionate.”

  My reply just slips out: “Much like you.”

  “You think so?” His smile is entirely too happy.

  Too late to take the words back. Might as well compliment him all the way. “Yeah. You throw yourself into everything you do. I think that’s admirable. Besides, you’re always so patient.”

  He laughs. “Me? Patient? I can’t wait to see Mom’s face when you tell her that.”

  “But you are.” I’m not going to hide what I think about him, no matter who I’m talking to. “You never lost your temper with me when I first started working for you. I was a terrible assistant.”

  “You weren’t terrible. You were just new and inexperienced. It was obvious you weren’t happy when you made a mistake, and it didn’t make sense for me to yell at you and make you feel even worse. I wanted to inspire and…help you strive and achieve more.”

  His eyes are locked on mine, and I’m mesmerized by the earnestness in his gorgeous gray gaze. My heart skips a beat, and then my pulse picks up as if he just made a declaration of undying love. Except my head knows he’s just referring to my professional development.

  “Thank you.” My voice is so calm that I actually surprise myself. “So… What else are we supposed to talk about?”

  David considers. “How about…hobbies?”

  That one’s easy. “Baking.”

  His face freezes. I’m getting a feeling he’s trying not to react to what I said. Maybe he thought I had some other hobby.

  “How about you?”

  “Sailing, not that I get to do much anymore. I also like to go to concerts when I have the time.”

  I didn’t know he liked to attend concerts. It’s rarely on his agenda. But then, he’s always so busy.

  The rest of the get-to-know-you information exchange is benign and easy. No more heart fluttering. No more revealing too much. The wine helps. I also enjoy the food. David’s right about the portions being small. But sheer variety makes the meal interesting, and I’m getting comfortably full.

  “Okay, Sophia’s going to ask this because she always does. But where do you see yourself in…let’s say twenty years?” David asks.

  I pause in the middle of spooning up some chocolate mousse. “Um…” I think, looking for the right words. “Somewhere warm. Happy and content.” Hopefully still fully functional without having random emotional outbursts or being a burden on anyone. I force a smile. “You?”

  His expression grows serious, then he reaches over and touches the ruby ring. “With someone I love. Making her happy.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  David

  Wistful longing fills Erin’s soft blue eyes. She looks away, then at the ring on her finger.

  She thinks she’s being cautious while faking a carefree attitude, but her answers are making my heart hurt. As much as I despise fucking Fordham, I’m grateful he visited and shot his mouth off. Otherwise I wouldn’t have understood the significance of what Erin’s revealing tonight.


  It shattered me when she told me why she likes hyacinths. I’ve never dated a woman who didn’t dream of being special. Unique. Erin just wants to be like everyone else. I want to hold her in my arms, kiss the crown of her head and whisper to her that she’s deserving, wonderful and lovely.

  It’s so damn hard to pretend that I don’t know her painful past. What wouldn’t I do to go back in time so I could kick the ass of everyone who hurt her? At the same time, I don’t dare bring it up first. I don’t want Erin to think I pity her. Unless I misunderstood Fordham, she’s been the subject of pity for much of her life.

  So I paste on a smile. “It’s ridiculously sentimental. But that should be why I proposed.”

  She nods. “Of course. I think that should do it. Besides, I’m glad we got to have this time. Now, we won’t be stumped when we’re at your grandmother’s birthday party, either.”

  “That too.” And I’m more determined than ever to have everyone in my family get to know her and shower her with the affection and love she obviously hasn’t had.

  When the meal ends, we go home in separate cars. I decide this sucks, but Erin can’t leave hers behind, since we’re not carpooling despite the fact that we live and work together. The drive isn’t terribly long, but the air in the car feels chillier and emptier without her.

  She parks first and climbs out. I follow suit. We walk together, side by side. Every cell in my body is vibrating to a special frequency that’s only for her. But then when we reach the second floor, she slowly backs away, looking torn between longing and trepidation.

  I realize that Boyfriend David is new to her. She’s only familiar with Boss David. Part of me bristles, wanting me to stop her, but a more civilized part keeps me rooted to the spot. I want her to make the decision. I don’t want her to have any regrets.

  Gathering my willpower, I turn and head into my room. I toss myself on the bed, knowing I won’t be able to sleep. Erin’s words keep playing back in my head in an endless loop. I hurt more and more because I know somebody out there made her think she shouldn’t strive for more in her future because she’s going to develop some mental illness. I wonder if she knows exactly what she has. Is it treatable? Medical science is making advances every day. A big pharma company somewhere could’ve discovered a medicine for her mom’s condition since Erin’s high school years. Even if she develops the same kind of illness her mom had, she might be able to live her life without any symptoms or challenges.