[Anthology] A Clean Fake Marriage Romance Collection

by Victorine E. Lieske

  Patrice glared at him, but quickly recovered. “Your brother will be here soon, and then we’ll go into the other room.”

  Harrison sat on the loveseat with Penny. Eleanor, a skinny old woman with a long horse-like face, leaned toward them. “I hear you two had a whirlwind wedding.” Her smile was all teeth. “Do tell me about it.”

  “Oh, yes, it was crazy all right,” Penny said, grabbing his hand. “We fell in love and threw caution to the wind!”

  Miranda, who was more round than tall, spoke up. “Did you really marry the day you met?” She raised an eyebrow, as if she didn’t believe it.

  “Yes,” Harrison said.

  The old ladies all gasped, and Patrice looked like she wanted to sink into the carpet. She picked up a champagne glass and took a sip.

  Penny giggled. “It was quite romantic. I mean, I didn’t even know Harrison was worth billions.”

  Patrice choked on her drink, and Harrison could feel the blood drain from his face. Penny continued. “But, luckily for him, I don’t care about his money. I’m just a small town girl from Iowa. What would I do with a million dollars?”

  Harrison stared at her.

  The women’s jaws were just about on the floor.

  Miranda composed herself first. “You mean, you married him before you knew who he was?”

  “Well, I knew I was in love. That’s all that matters, right?” Penny’s wide eyes gave her the look of an innocent doe. Either that or a serial killer who was out of touch with reality.

  Miranda must have been thinking serial killer, because she scooted back in her chair.

  Josephine laughed and tugged on her white gloves. “You are a delight, girl. You must come to the Christmas soirée I’m having this weekend. Everyone who is anyone will be there.”

  Patrice, Miranda, and Eleanor looked at Josephine like she’d suggested they all dance on the table naked.

  A look of apprehension crossed Penny’s face, but she smoothed it out. “I’d love to.”

  Trent entered the room with his wife. Last summer when Harrison first met her, he’d had to blink to make sure she was real. She had platinum-blonde hair, an unnaturally thin waist, a perfectly perky chest, and legs so long he wondered how she kept from falling over. It was like she’d handed her plastic surgeon a Barbie doll for reference and he’d taken her seriously. Her name was Candy. Of course.

  After Trent introduced Candy to Penny, they all went into the formal dining room. It was more like a hall than a room, with a table so long it would seat twenty. Harrison couldn’t remember a time when they’d filled it. Penny must think they were insane. He was beginning to agree.

  Annabel brought out the hors d’oeuvres―escargot in garlic butter, served with artichoke hearts and caviar. Penny picked up her tongs and raised an eyebrow. “What are these things? They look like eyelash curlers or something.”

  Candy giggled. “Those are tongs. You hold the shells with them. Then you dig out the inside with the fork.”

  Penny’s face brightened. “Like in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts flung the snail guts across the room.”

  Harrison hid a smile. Patrice scoffed and straightened in her chair, surely too proper to admit to having seen a movie like Pretty Woman. Eleanor peered at Penny over her glasses.

  Josephine laughed. “Slippery little suckers. What a great line. I love that movie.”

  “I’ll try not to sail my appetizer across the room.” Penny picked up her fork and started digging in the shell. She pulled the escargot out and put it in her mouth, then looked around the room, probably noticing that everyone was watching her. “Mmm,” she said.

  Josephine clapped, which didn’t really work with her white gloves on. “Bravo!”

  Patrice held a tight smile. “Penelope, do tell us. What exactly is it that you do?”

  “I’m a performer. I sing, and dance.”

  A smug look crossed Patrice’s face. “Ah, I see. I suppose there are poles involved in your dance routine?”

  Heat rose to Harrison’s face, and he clenched his fists. “Patrice!” Harrison didn’t disguise the anger in his voice. She was going too far.

  Penny waved it away. “Oh, no, not that kind of dancing. More like what you’d see on Broadway. Why, Patrice, you probably know what I’m talking about, having grown up in that area.”

  Everyone turned to look at Patrice. The color drained from her face. “I beg your pardon. I’m from California.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I could have sworn I heard you were from Queens.” The smile on Penny’s face widened. “What was it your father did again? I thought he was—”

  “I’ve never been to Iowa,” Patrice interrupted. “Tell me about it.”

  Harrison stared at his stepmother as Penny went into a monologue about Iowa and growing up in a small town surrounded by corn fields. Patrice grew up in Queens? Oh, that was too good. Harrison could hardly believe it. She’d put on airs and told everyone her father was some rich son of a gold miner. He wondered what the truth was.

  The rest of the meal went without incident. They ate some fancy sushi junk his stepmother loved. He realized he’d rather be eating at Lord of the Onion Rings. As he walked Penny back to their room, he whispered, “How did you find out about Queens?”

  “It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet if you have a valid credit card number.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You have a valid credit card number?”

  She looked up at him, a smile in her eyes. “No. But you do.”

  Before they made it to their door, Patrice stepped out from around a corner, stopping them. She pointed a finger at Penny. “I don’t know how you found out, you little viper, but I will not tolerate blackmail.” She turned to Harrison. “As for you, I spoke with my attorney this afternoon. I have changed the conditions. You now have to be married for two years before you get the trust.”

  Penny’s eyes widened and Harrison’s mouth went dry. “What? You can’t do that,” he said.

  A satisfied smirk settled on her face. “I can, and I did. This is not a game, but if it were, I would win. I always do.” She took a step back. “I won’t be played for a fool.”

  Penny muttered, “Well, if it walks like a duck...”

  His stepmother’s face turned a deep shade of purple, and she looked like she wanted to choke the life out of Penny. “You will not get a dime of this family’s money.” She rounded the corner, the clicking of her shoes on the tile fading down the hall.

  Chapter 8

  Penny pushed Harrison into the bedroom and shut the door, trying not to panic. “Two years? We can’t stay married for two years.” She kept her voice low, even though she wanted to shout. Her throat closed and she struggled to breathe. This wasn’t happening. Not now. Not when William was making strides and seemed ready to commit. Or at least work on things.

  Harrison paced the room, his distress evident in the way he scrubbed his hand over his face. “I know, I know. We’ll contest it. I’ll figure something out.”

  “You’d better,” she said, stabbing the air with her finger. “William apologized. He wants to meet. I think he—” She stopped talking when she saw the look on Harrison’s face. “What?”

  Harrison swallowed, and took a step toward her. “William wants to meet you?” He worked his jaw muscles. “Do you think that’s...wise?”

  “I know William better than anyone. He would never hurt me.”

  “Like he would never leave you at the altar.” He advanced.

  Her heart sped up as he drew closer. “He’s not perfect. He made a mistake.” The smell of Harrison’s cologne was messing with her head. Made it hard to think. She sank down on the bed. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

  Harrison sighed and sat down beside her. He looked like he wanted to lecture her, but instead he simply said, “How did you two meet?”

  She shrugged, since it wasn’t any big deal. “We met in a chat room.” When he didn’t respond, she elaborated. “Don’t Blink.”
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br />   He raised an eyebrow, and she giggled. He looked adorable with that puzzled expression. “Don’t Blink is a chat room for Whovians.”

  “Speak English, please.”

  She laughed. “Your lack of nerd knowledge is cute. We just met online. That’s all that’s important.”

  “So, what, his profile pic was hot, so you started chatting with him?”

  “His profile pic was a TARDIS.”

  Harrison blinked, obviously lost. “What’s that?”

  “That blue police box The Doctor uses.” When his blank look got even blanker, she smiled. “Forget it. It’s a Doctor Who thing.”

  “Oh. How did you end up in Las Vegas, standing at an altar?”

  Penny slipped off her shoes and scooted back on the bed. “William kept bugging me to go away for a weekend with him. I told him I wasn’t going to do that until I was married. Then he said, ‘Well, why don’t we?’ and I said, ‘Do what?’ and he said, ‘Get married. You live in Las Vegas.’ And then I said, ‘Are you serious?!?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’” She picked a piece of lint off her dress, too embarrassed to look up at Harrison. “I guess he wasn’t as serious as I was.”

  Harrison was silent for a moment. Then he quietly said, “So he wanted a weekend of fun, and you wanted a lifetime commitment.”

  She glared at him. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I was trying to push him into something. But he’s the one who suggested it.”

  “Only to get what he wanted from you.”

  Heat rose to her face, and she hopped off the bed. “You’re a pig!”

  He stood as well. “Men are pigs, Penny. It’s not safe for you to go off to meet some guy from the Internet. Do you even know what he looks like?”

  She grabbed her phone. “Yes. He sent me a photo.” After flipping through her images, she shoved it in his face.

  He squinted. “Is he the blurry one, or the bald guy in back?”

  She scoffed. “The blurry one, of course.”

  “Good. Because the other dude has some serious Danny Devito thing going on. I think you’d tower over him.”

  “Funny. But like I said, that’s not him. William is tall and handsome, as you can see.”

  The look on Harrison’s face was difficult to interpret. He handed the phone back. “If you insist on going to meet him, at least take me along. For safety reasons.”

  The thought had occurred to her. She didn’t really want to drive by herself in an unfamiliar place. Especially on the scary freeways of California. “Fine.”

  “Fine.” He folded his arms across his chest. “When are we going?”

  “I’ll ask William.”

  She could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes, but he turned away from her too quickly to tell. “Fine,” he muttered.

  She gripped her phone and went into the closet to change. Five minutes later she was stretched out on the deck in her yoga pants, texting William.

  W: Tomorrow? Um, I don’t think tomorrow is good for me.

  P: When, then?

  W: Next weekend. I’ll take u to dinner.

  P: Great. But, um, can I bring a friend?

  W: A friend? On our first date?

  P: That does sound like a bad idea. It’s just—I promised I’d bring him along.

  W: Him? You want to bring a guy with u? What’s going on, Penny?

  P: He thinks it’s a bad idea for me to meet u.

  W: Who is this guy??

  P: My husband.

  W: What??? You said you were single!

  P: I am!! I mean, I was. Until u didn’t show up. The limo driver picked up the wrong guy at the airport.

  W: You’re serious? You married a stranger?

  P: I thought he was you!!

  W: I’m getting a headache.

  P: What restaurant should we meet at?

  W: I changed my mind. We shouldn’t meet.

  P: Don’t be like that.

  W: But u want to bring your husband on a date with me. You don’t see anything wrong with that?

  P: I don’t love him like I love you.

  “What does he say?” The deep sound of Harrison’s voice startled Penny and she jumped, hugging her phone to her chest.

  “Don’t do that!”

  He sat down on the other lounge chair, his laptop in his hand. He’d changed into a T-shirt and shorts. “Do what?”

  “Sneak up on me. It’s not nice.” She shot him a glare.

  “Well, what’s he saying?”

  Her phone screeched “Text message,” and she pushed the button.

  W: I love u 2. But you need to get this situation resolved before we meet.

  Penny frowned. “He doesn’t want to meet now that I’ve told him you’re coming along.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “See? He doesn’t have good intentions. Do you even know his last name?”

  Anger and frustration boiled in her. “Yes. It’s Tucker. And he just doesn’t want me to bring my husband on our date! Don’t you see anything wrong with that?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  She wanted to throw something at him, but nothing was around, so she grunted and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re impossible.”

  He reached over and touched her arm, and she tried to ignore the tingles it caused. “I’m only trying to keep you safe.”

  She knew it was true. Harrison did want to keep her safe. Unfortunately, he was messing everything up with William. She huffed and hopped off her chair. “Good night.” She stormed into the other room and slipped under the covers.

  HARRISON STARED AT his laptop screen, the window Penny had opened tempting him like siren call. Privateeyes4u.com boasted amazing results in less than an hour. Police records, background checks, birth records―you could get it all for under a hundred dollars.

  Penny wouldn’t have to know, right? He could dig up some information on William, just to make sure the guy wasn’t a serial rapist or anything. It was for her own good. In fact, if she were thinking straight, she’d want him to do it.

  He typed William’s name and cell phone number into the form and clicked. After putting in his credit card information and getting a receipt, he closed his laptop and took a deep breath.

  He’d done the right thing. Penny needed to be protected.

  So why did he feel so guilty?

  Chapter 9

  Penny sat up in bed, unsure of what had awakened her. Must have been a noise of some sort. Maybe Harrison was snoring. She peered over into the darkness. The recliner sat empty, the blanket he had been using draped across the arm. The bathroom door was open, the light off. Where was he? She looked at the clock. One-thirty.

  Her stomach growled, and she slid out of bed. Harrison had probably gone down to the kitchen to get something to eat, which sounded like a good idea to her. She grabbed her phone and used it as a flashlight, sneaking through the house until she saw the kitchen light shining under the door.

  She figured she’d see Harrison in there. What she didn’t expect was to find him at the counter, apron on, furiously chopping onions on a cutting board.

  “What are you—”

  He turned with a start, knife pointed at her, eyes wide.

  “Whoa. Put that thing down.”

  “Sorry, you startled me.” He lowered the knife. “I thought you were Patrice.”

  “I can see why you’d want a knife in that case.”

  His deep laugh filled the room, making her smile. He turned back to his chopping. “What are you doing up?”

  She crossed the room to stand beside him. “Woke up hungry. That raw fish stuff was fine, but not very filling.”

  He made a face. “Yeah.”

  Several small glass bowls sat in front of him, various chopped items in them. A skillet and a carton of eggs sat on the stove. “Omelets?”

  He grinned. “I watched Chef Ramsey make an omelet on Food Network the other day. I’ve been craving them ever since.”
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  Penny’s mouth dropped. “You watch Food Network?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Sometimes.”

  She stared at him. “You’re a foodie.”

  “A what? No I’m not.” He pulled a package of pepperoni out of the fridge.

  “Yes, you are. Just look at you, all dolled up in an apron, chopping up all kinds of crazy things to put in your omelet. You’re grinning like a twelve year old whose fart got blamed on his sister.”

  He laughed, the warm, richness of it washing over her. “You’re insane.”

  “Deny it all you want. You, my dear, are a foodie.”

  He shook his head and continued to chop the remaining slices of pepperoni. “You want one?”

  “Sure.”

  He cracked eggs into a separator and began whipping the whites. As he worked, she studied him. He seemed so much more relaxed, like he was in his element. He carried a hint of a smile, and he handled the spatula in a natural way, like he’d been doing it forever. If he opened up a restaurant he’d have a blast with it. She slid onto a stool at the built-in bar.

  He pulled two plates from the cupboard and flipped an omelet onto one and handed it to her. She picked up her fork and cut into it. The eggs were fluffy and melted in her mouth. “This is delicious.”

  His smile widened, but he didn’t say anything. The silence was comfortable, though, and when he was done making his omelet he sat beside her and ate.

  “What made you think to put pepperoni in here? It adds the perfect zing to it.”

  He shrugged. “Just thought it would be good.”

  “Well, it is. You have great instinct.” A blush crept up his neck and Penny held in a laugh.

  “I actually wanted to go to culinary school instead of business school.”

  “Really?” Penny was stunned. “You’d be an awesome chef. Why didn’t you?”

  “Because,” said a cold voice behind them.

  Penny whipped around to see Patrice standing there, her arms folded across her chest.

  “No son of mine is going to become a cook.” She spat the word, like it tasted bitter on her tongue.