PRETEND BOYFRIEND (A Billionaire Romance)

by Mia Carson

“What the hell just happened?” his dad snapped, slamming his glass onto the table. “Chase? You care to explain why you just destroyed that poor woman in front of us?”

  “Me? You don’t understand,” he argued. “She was hired for the weekend, and she played me to get more money! That’s all there is to it.”

  His mom hung her head, muttering about him being an idiot. “You, my son, are smart, but sometimes, you’re a blind fool! That woman loves you—or at least she did until you threw money at her!” Chase stepped back. He’d never heard his mom raise her voice. “Never in my years did I think to see you treat a woman like that! How dare you!”

  “She lied to me,” he told her. “She twisted everything, manipulated me. I knew she was hiding something the whole weekend, and this was it. And yesterday, with the phone calls and getting sick. Probably saw her partner at the damn carnival.” He needed it to be logical and reason itself out, but as he said it out loud, nothing made sense.

  At the carnival, she hadn’t played sick. She’d really been sick, and as he thought about it now, he realized what else he’d seen on her face. Fear.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he yelled, throwing his arms up. “She’s gone.”

  “Chase,” his mom said, shaking her head at him. “She didn’t take the money.”

  His blood ran cold. “What?”

  “She did not take the money you threw at her!” his mom yelled. “I don’t know what that girl is going through or what you overheard, but you just chased the only good thing out of your life.”

  Chase stared the bills scattered across the floor. She left the money. All of it. Something sparkly caught his eye and he saw the engagement ring on the kitchen counter. He knew what he’d heard earlier. She talked about getting money for someone. Why would she leave it all behind?

  The penthouse closed in around him, and he struggled to breathe, his hands shaking.

  “We’re leaving,” Margot told him.

  “Wait,” he said, but his mom shook her head.

  “No. I’ve never been disappointed in you until tonight, and the next time you lie to me or your father, you’re going to have a very rude awakening as to how angry your mother can be,” she warned, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the penthouse.

  Chase watched her go, his dad following. “I suggest you find a way to fix this, son,” he muttered and left, too, closing the door behind him.

  Left alone, something he hadn’t been in days, the sudden silence echoed around him. Grace’s laughter was such a part of his life since the cruise, and not hearing it now ripped a hole in him. He glared at the money but left it lying on the floor and grabbed the ring instead. He held it so tightly in his fist, it cut into his palm, but he didn’t notice. Stalking to the windows, he leaned on them with his arm and glared out over the city.

  She was out there somewhere, running far away from him and his anger. Most of it wasn’t even at her if he wanted to be truthful. He hated Tiffany, had held it inside of him for so long, and instead of working through it, he unleashed it on a woman he thought he knew.

  For the record, these last few days weren’t an act.

  Her last words to him repeated themselves in his mind until it was all he heard. He slammed his fist against the window, desperate for a way to end the turmoil inside of him, and as he watched a storm break over the horizon, a single tear slipped from his eye.

  Chapter 12

  All through the night, Grace tossed and turned. There was no sleep to be found after she returned to her shitty apartment, minus Jimmy. An envelope sat on her dresser in her room, so she rifled through it. A few thousand dollars and another envelope with her back pay from Terrance. In total, all she had to offer was less than ten grand. Mickey wasn’t going to be happy, but it was all she had to give at the moment.

  As she dressed to head to the pub, Grace tried not to think about last night, or about the way Chase looked at her with so much hatred. It killed her to think she’d caused him so much pain. If he’d let her explain, would he have understood what she was really stuck in the middle of? Probably not. Tiffany had done more damage than she had assumed. Maybe there was no way to fix it and get back the man who hid behind those walls.

  “Stop thinking about him,” she muttered to herself. “You have to think of Jimmy and saving your own ass now.”

  Chase made his choice last night. If he wanted to treat her like trash, just like so many other people had, then fine. There was no point wasting any more energy on the man. She hurried out the door at half past seven and hustled through the city towards the pub owned by men she wished her parents had never met.

  One of Mickey’s goons stood outside the door, and she didn’t have to speak for him to let her inside with a glare and a hint of the gun under his jacket. She tried to keep herself from shaking, but the second the pub door closed behind her, the reality hit home of what she was in for if this didn’t go as planned. Money in hand, she stepped further into the pub until she heard Mickey call out her name from the bar.

  “Ah, there she is, right on time,” Mickey said happily.

  Grace glanced around but couldn’t see Jimmy. “My friend—where is he?”

  “He’s close by, and yes, he’s alive, love.” Mickey waved her over to the bar. “Would you like a pint?”

  “Bit early to drink, isn’t it?” she muttered.

  “Nonsense. I say today is a perfect day for a drink. I’m getting paid and you… Well, we’ll just have to see what’s in store for your future.” He gulped his glass of dark Guinness and held out his hand. “The money, love. Hand it over.”

  “I couldn’t get all of it,” she said quickly. “This is what I have now, but I’ll get the rest to you when I can. I swear it.”

  He held out his hand, and she handed over the money and stepped away from him. As he counted it, she slowly took another step back, looking for any sign that Jimmy was even in the pub. There were a few back rooms. Probably had him in there. All she wanted was to see him and know he was alive and in one piece.

  Mickey frowned and tucked the money away in his leather jacket. “Sorry, love, but that’s not even close.”

  “I told you I wasn’t able to get it all.”

  “What about the twenty grand Valentine promised you? Where’s that money?”

  She bit her lip. “Where’s Jimmy?”

  Mickey glowered at her. “I asked you a question, love.”

  “And so did I. Where’s Jimmy, and I’ll tell you what happened, alright? Please, just let me see him.”

  Mickey tapped his fingers on the bar top before he snapped them at one of his goons. A door opened behind him and Jimmy was shoved out. His face was bloodied, but no more than yesterday, and Grace sagged in relief.

  “Jimmy, are you alright?”

  “Fine, don’t worry about me,” he told her stiffly.

  “See? Man of me word. Now, where’s the twenty grand? You’re not trying to hide it from me, are you?” Mickey warned, reaching for her shoulders and snagging her before she had a chance to back away. His fingers dug in hard until she winced. “Where the hell is it?”

  “I didn’t get it, alright?” she yelled and tried to break away, but he didn’t let her go. “There were complications and I didn’t get the money, but I’ll get it to you eventually, I will.”

  He shoved her away so hard she tripped over her feet and fell to the floor. Jimmy yelled until one of the goons punched him hard in the gut.

  “Jimmy, be quiet! I’m fine,” she said loudly from the floor.

  Mickey finished off his pint and threw his glass against the floor, shattering it. “First your mother, and now you, love. What am I to do?”

  Grace tried to get to her feet, but Mickey shook his head so she stayed on the floor. He paced around the pub, scratching his chin as he eyed her closely, and Grace swallowed hard. He’d said he’d put her to work for him, but what that might include she was pretty sure she didn’t want to find out.

  “You’re on break rig
ht now from acting, is that correct?” he finally asked.

  “Yes. Until the theaters are rebuilt. Why?”

  “I’m short staffed. For now, you will work four days a week here, and I’ll take fifty percent of your wages to cover what you owe me,” he told her. “And if that’s not working well enough, I’ll see if I can’t find a better use for you elsewhere.”

  Grace glared as she got to her feet. “That’ll take years!”

  “Yes, but that is what you get when you mess with men like me.”

  “I didn’t!” she yelled. “My mother did! Go after her instead of coming after me, you jackass! I have nothing! No life, no savings, nothing! I don’t even have a boyfriend anymore because of you and your shitty business!” She should’ve stopped yelling, but she couldn’t help it and ranted at Mickey. It was all his fault—his and her mom’s fault—for getting her into a mess she’d never get out of again. “You ruined my life!”

  On the verge of hysteria, Grace opened her mouth to yell again when Mickey reached out and grabbed her chin painfully in his hand. “I suggest you shut up right now. I am once again being generous with you,” he informed her. “Push me anymore and you’ll see how mean I can be. I like you, Graceland, always have. Don’t make me ruin that pretty face of yours, huh?”

  He tapped her cheek hard enough to sting and told his goons to let Jimmy go. “And consider this. If you extend your courtesies to me as you did this Valentine man”—Mickey leered as Jimmy rushed through the pub to her—“perhaps I’ll stop charging you interest.”

  Jimmy cursed and lunged forward, but Grace yanked him back. “Never, you asshole.”

  Mickey shrugged and waved them out the door. “Just keep it in mind, Graceland. Your first shift starts Friday night. Don’t be late.”

  She shot him a hate-filled stare before she and Jimmy booked it out the front door of the pub. Neither said a word until they were well away and Grace’s knees gave out completely. She fell against the side of a building, Jimmy right beside her, ignoring the curious stares of passersby.

  “Thanks for getting me out of there,” Jimmy told her. “Really.”

  “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” she said and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. God, I’m sorry.”

  He hugged her tightly. “I’m alive, and that’s what matters. Grace, you can’t go to that pub,” he told her, setting her away from him so he could look her in the eye. “You know he’ll keep pushing you to give in.”

  She rubbed her face, furiously trying to think. “I know, but I can’t leave the city. I have no money—nothing, now.”

  “What about Chase?” When she shrank away from him, Jimmy hung his head. “What happened with you and Chase?”

  “It’s a long story,” she whispered. “Can I tell you over a drink? Or several maybe.”

  She felt sick again, and her chest ached as if she’d been stabbed. Everything she told herself about not caring about Chase and getting over him disappeared in that moment. She wanted to feel those strong arms pull her close and tell her he’d be there for her, take care of her, and never let her go. Instead, he’d thrown money at her feet, called her a liar, and shoved her out of his life.

  “Grace? You look like you’re going to be sick,” Jimmy asked worriedly. “Come on, let’s get you home, and we can talk about it there.”

  She nodded and let him guide her through the city, back to their crappy apartment building, and the tiny little place that was her world. She’d never move up and out. Her only chance at that was gone because she’d tried to protect the man she loved, and he couldn’t have cared less.

  ***

  Chase wasn’t sure how he got through the rest of the week, but somehow, he woke up and it was Saturday—not morning, but late that evening. He hadn’t slept well with an empty bed and woke up constantly, searching for Grace. But she was gone, and he doubted he would ever see her again. He woke each morning with a yawning ache in his chest and drank himself to sleep at night, consumed by anger and the notion that once again, he let himself get used.

  He forced his body to roll out of bed and decided he needed to go out. After calling Dexter and telling him to get the limo ready for the night, he dragged his body into the bathroom and glared at the face looking back at him. His hair was ragged, dark circles surrounded his eyes, and he hadn’t shaved since Wednesday. In a few more days, he might actually start looking like the viking Grace described him, or the damn Norse god himself.

  He touched a fingertip to his tattoo and smirked. “Loki,” he whispered, but it didn’t sound the same as when she called him that.

  Furious at himself and at her, he turned from the mirror and turned the water on icy cold in the shower—anything to snap him out of this dour depression he couldn’t escape from. His mom called him every day, but he refused to answer and she always left the same message for him to hear.

  If Grace wanted to use him, why the hell hadn’t she taken the money or the ring? Why had she done any of it? Those nights in each other’s arms started out being about sex but changed so quickly for him. He knew she felt it too, felt it every time she cried out his name, when she clutched him to her, when she whispered in his ear.

  But if she loves me, then why wouldn’t she tell me the truth?

  Anger filled him again at that simple realization. No matter what he thought he felt, she still hid something from him, just like Tiffany had. Just like all women did. He dressed quickly, and by the time he reached the lobby, he was in an even worse mood and needed to a drink.

  “Where would you like to go, sir?” Dexter asked through the divide.

  “Anywhere with women and scotch,” he growled.

  “Of course, sir. Still no word from Ms. Summers?”

  He shot Dexter a look. “No, no word, nor will there be. My contract with Ms. Summers has ended, so don’t expect to see her again any time soon.”

  “Very good, sir,” Dexter said, but his tone was one Chase heard all too often from his mom. He didn’t say anything else, though, so Chase let it drop and settled into the leather seat of the limo, watching the city lights pass by.

  His eyes drifted closed, lulled into memory by the steady rhythm of the drive. Grace’s face popped into his mind—the first time she rode in his limo—and he grinned. She’d been so happy with him, made everything seem so easy.

  And there’s your problem, he thought darkly. You were so desperate to feel something you let her right in.

  Chase sunk even lower into the seats and waited sullenly until Dexter pulled up outside the local pub, crowded for this time of night, and that was just fine with him. The more people he could get lost in the middle of, the better. He didn’t wait for Dexter to get his door before he hopped out and told him he’d text when he was ready to leave again.

  “Yes, sir. Just a word of caution?”

  “What, Dexter?” Chase snapped, glaring at his driver.

  He sighed and pursed his lips. “Nothing, sir. I’ll wait for your text.”

  “Good,” Chase muttered, straightened his jacket, and strode into the pub. A live band was playing, so the music was loud. He let it hit him, drowning out any thoughts involving Grace and the possibility there was reason to doubt his actions. “Doesn’t matter,” he snapped harshly.

  The bartender frowned. “What was that?”

  “Pint, please,” he replied loudly. “And a scotch. Leave the bottle.” The guy didn’t move until Chase pulled several hundreds from his wallet and placed them on the bar top. “If you please.”

  “You got it, man,” the bartender said.

  While he waited for his drinks, Chase glanced around the pub, smirking at several clusters of women looking very available and very beautiful. The type of women he was used to falling into bed with to forget the woes of his life. A brunette caught his eye and giggled as she raised her glass to him, her friends talking in her ear and giving her a shove forwards. Chase laughed as he poured his scotch and shot it back, ready to make
his move.

  “Well, you must be the man with the big money,” a voice with a lilting accent said from behind him.

  Chase gritted his teeth and turned. “Yeah, that’s me. You got a problem?”

  The man, dressed in a black leather jacket and tight jeans, shook his head. “On the contrary, I’d like to thank you. This is my establishment, and I usually know all the high rollers who come around.”

  Chase glanced over his shoulder to find the brunette still standing there so he took the hand the man offered him. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Mickey O’Brien,” the man said as his eyes narrowed on Chase’s face. “Hey, wait, I know you—you’re Chase Valentine. Yeah, that’s right. Surprised to see you here, of all places.” His hand tightened on Chase’s, and he glanced down at them, forcing the smile to stay on his face as he shrugged.

  “Not sure why it’s a surprise. Just happened to be where I came tonight.” He pulled his hand free and shoved it into his pocket to stop himself from decking the guy if he didn’t leave him alone. A fight wasn’t ideal, but it might get some of the pent up anger out of him. “Do I know you?”

  “No… no, but… Ah, never mind.” He peered around Chase and muttered something behind him to the man standing there. The other guy shrugged and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Looking for someone?”

  Chase didn’t know what this guy’s problem was, but he didn’t like him and he was getting in the way of his goal to get drunk and laid that night. He was going to push past him, grab his scotch, and go to the brunette when Mickey said something, throwing him completely off guard.

  “Seems she wasn’t lying about the complications, then,” Mickey laughed. “Well, then, nice to know she is available after all. Your loss, boyo. Enjoy the pub.” He patted Chase on the shoulder and pushed his way through the pub towards a back room.

  She. Mickey had said she and complications. His loss? Who the hell was that guy? Chase stood at the bar, holding the bottle of scotch like a life preserver as he tried to process what the hell the guy was talking about. That guy… He couldn’t have been talking about Grace, could he? Nothing made sense, and Chase didn’t know what to think. If that was the guy she worked with to try and scam him, why had Mickey not said anything about the money Grace didn’t get, or seem so happy that she wasn’t with Chase anymore?