Spring Break Bride: A Virgin For The Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Vivien Vale

  "Have you had breakfast?" I ask.

  "Oh no, I just grabbed some coffee. You have quite the espresso maker."

  "Come with me," I grab her hand and lead her into the kitchen. "I make the best omelette."

  She seems a little shaken, a little thrown off her game, and she should be. It took balls to do what she did, sneaking around my office when I wasn't aware. And then she so narrowly got caught.

  I, of course, was expecting it. I heard her slip out of bed. While I was hoping that my information on her was wrong, she certainly proved otherwise.

  In the kitchen, I play some music. The sun is shining through the windows and it feels like it should be a good day.

  "Do you cook?" I ask her casually.

  She laughs.

  "Nothing edible. I'm not a very good cook. I know every restaurant in town for a reason. Plus, I have a private chef that comes in on occasion."

  "You do? You live a ritzier life than I do."

  "A girl's gotta eat."

  I oil the pan and begin my creation. Cooking, to me, is like an art form. I find value in cooking for people I love. Not that I'm saying I love Jenna. Not by any means.

  My mind is occupied as I make her breakfast. I thought last night meant something to her. I thought we were on the same page. But what I'm coming to find out is that every moment she spends with me is an act, for an ulterior motive.

  And yet it can't be. I know we have a connection. I know she feels it too. You can't fake that, can you?

  Either she's the best goddamn liar in town or I've got it all wrong.

  "Okay, well, now you can sample some homemade food, a luxury in your world."

  I plate her the omelette in town, complete with greens, imported cheese and all my favorite ingredients.

  Internally, I curse myself for getting so worked over Jenna. I'm a playboy after all. I don't get consumed and upset by women. I make them swoon, and I bed them, and that's it.

  Why should Jenna be any different?

  I look at her smiling over her breakfast, so appreciative and sweet about everything. How could I be wrong about this girl? It's not like she wears her heart on her sleeve, but is and always has been kind-hearted and respectful to everyone I know.

  She has a flawless reputation unlike my own. She prides herself on having morals and I fucking respect that.

  But then I envision myself walking in on her, crouched over her purse stuffing my blueprints away. I saw it with my own eyes, there’s no going back. I can't deny what I saw.

  "Is it good?"

  "So good. You could be a chef. Like, really."

  She's happy and thankful and I'm torn apart. I have to just put her in the category with all other women and not become emotionally involved.

  Even if I put her in that category, I don't know where to go from there. Should I break things off?

  I curse myself for getting my heart involved. I'll know in the future not to go there. There's a reason I don't involve myself with women like this. It always ends up messy and complicated.

  It’s unreal, and I can't even believe I've let my heart go so much. I'm normally so guarded and I'll have to be that way again.

  I owe it to myself and to my long reputation of staying distant to continue to do so. I deserve the best, and if Jenna's a fraud, then she's not the best and I needn't have anything to do with her.

  At the same time, I have to play this thing carefully. If I break it off now, while things are so good on the surface, she might get suspicious. It'll look like I know what she's up to.

  If anything, I have to prevent her from getting those plans to the FBI. They must not obtain them.

  In order for that to happen, I'll have to keep things as seamless as possible. I'll pretend back. If she thinks she has the monopoly on acting within a relationship, she's wrong. I'll beat her at her own game.

  I vow to push my feelings out of it and to make this all about business from now on. It'll be hard to mask my hurt and to not ask her a thousand questions, but I have to do it if I have any chance of keeping a handle on this thing.

  I plaster a fake smile across my face.

  "I'm so glad you're enjoying your breakfast. Anytime you need real food, that's not delivered from a takeout menu, or by a private chef, just come on over."

  I hope to convince her of my sincerity.

  "Thanks, Braden. I'd really like that."

  She seems earnest as ever, and again my heart aches knowing the truth. It's gonna be harder than ever to keep this charade in business mode, when all I want to do is to sleep with her and fuck her and make her mine.

  This constant obsession with Jenna is gonna have to stop, but at least I can be with her for a few days longer. At least her body is not forbidden to me yet.

  I haven't quite had my fill of Jenna yet. Will I ever?

  Seeing her here, sitting on the marble island so close to me, wearing my clothes, her hair a tangled, freshly-fucked mess, makes my cock harden.

  It might be hard to bury my feelings and to forget about Jenna meaning something to me. But it won't be hard to indulge in her body just a few times more.

  I walk over to her and lovingly kiss her. She thinks I'm true and that my emotions are real. Well, how could she see past that when she's deceiving me so? This is exactly where she wants me, and she thinks she’s got me there.

  She kisses me back and maybe to her she's still on top. Maybe she believes she's the one playing me. But that'll never happen. I'll always be on top. I'll always dominate her, even in this.

  "I'm so glad you stayed over baby," I say to her.

  She looks at me with those emerald green eyes.

  "Me too. I'm so happy, and last night was...intense."

  "I know. I wish we could repeat it, but I have to go to work in about an hour."

  She stares at me with lustful eyes like she's thinking of what it would be like to take to my sheets again.

  I give her one, long passionate kiss and then I pull away.

  Game on.

  Chapter 21

  Jenna

  I’m shaking.

  I feel sick to my stomach and nauseous.

  I can’t believe I so narrowly escaped Braden finding out about me.

  I rush through the lobby, out the doors, and into the light of day.

  I breathe and catch a breath of fresh air outside of Braden’s building.

  That was so intense, having to lie to him like that.

  I check my purse to make sure the blueprints are still there.

  After all the trouble I went through to get them, I better not have left them behind.

  I carefully tuck them back into my Louis Vuitton and then catch a cab.

  I’m positively torn in half. I care about Braden so much, and yet I’ve just stolen from him.

  I haven’t yet decided how far to take the betrayal, but stealing those plans was enough. I feel terrible.

  I sink into the back of the cab and just feel like hiding my head away from the shame of it.

  I think about the moment that Braden walked in on me in the foyer. There’s no way he wouldn’t have seen it. He had to have seen me put those blueprints in my purse.

  How could he have missed it?

  It’s midmorning and everyone’s rushing around, getting things done and tending to business. There’s all manner of people out today. I look at them with envy, thinking what simple lives they must lead compared to mine.

  They’re not wanted by the FBI. They’re not in love with someone that they must deceive. They haven’t just stolen from the man of their dreams.

  All of this is on my shoulders, and it’s almost too much to bear. For all the years I’ve liked Braden, now it’s all come to this? It feels like my feelings have been in vain.

  I finally catch a break and now the world comes tumbling down.

  It’s just my luck, really. I stare out of the window sadly and count down the moments it takes to get to my apartment. I want to pick over Braden’s blueprints and
see what he’s done.

  I finally arrive home and am glad to just get some space in the privacy of my home.

  I make some tea and unroll the plans across my little artisan table in the kitchen. I need to study these to fully understand Braden’s motives and plans.

  I smooth my fingers over his scribbled handwriting and think about last night. I’ve never been so intimately connected with one man. It felt so good and it felt so right.

  I felt understood by him and in his strong arms. I could finally let go and not be so in control all the time. Braden has this need to dominate me, which I kinda like.

  I should’ve known he’d be an alpha male in the bedroom as he is in life. Nothing is more attractive than a man who knows what he wants and who goes after it without a fault.

  I need him too. I need that dominance in my life because I’ve found through surrendering to him that I can really allow myself to come undone.

  It’s hard to study the plans when all I can think about is the feeling of flying I had on that glass balcony when he made me come in mid-air. The stairwell where we fucked so hard and I felt at one with him flashes through my mind. I miss him already, and I just left him.

  After all that connection, I betrayed him, and it makes me feel sick.

  I drink my tea and look outside, wondering what he’s doing. He said he was going to work today.

  I myself can’t even think about going to work and seeing my crew. Under the circumstances, it’s too much to think about facing them and Braden all on the same day.

  I normally am not one to take a day off. But until I figure out a plan, a way to evade the Feds, well, I can’t even look at a racetrack.

  I’m too far into this. While I want to be with Braden unencumbered so badly, I also know that the hopes of that happening while I have the FBI breathing down my neck is slim to none.

  My phone rings and I jump to grab it, hoping that maybe it’s him.

  “Hello?”

  “Jenna, it’s Mr. Harrison, the agent you met on the street. Listen, we’re ready to bring Braden in, and we need that information. You’ve had ample time to collect it.”

  Fuck. I should not have answered my phone.

  I’m looking at the blueprints right now. All the information is laid out before me, but I will not reveal this to the agent. I don’t think I can go through with it after all.

  “Hi, how’d you get this number?”

  “That’s beside the point. What I need to know is if you’re going to accept your immunity or not.”

  “I thought I had more time. I don’t have the information yet,” I lie through my teeth.

  “That’s incorrect, Jenna. We know for a fact that you have what we need. Now if you don’t want to play ball, we can bring you into custody.”

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

  There’s a long pause at the end of the phone. Why is there pause?

  I’m starting to feel like I’m in pretty deep here, deeper than I should be. I’m lying to Braden and I’m lying to the FBI. Either way, I lose.

  Just then, a series of photographs pop up on my phone.

  It shows me leaving Braden’s building this morning. It shows me taking the plans out of my purse to see that they were still there. And then there’s a series of photos showing me stuffing them into my purse and jumping into a cab.

  “I’m under surveillance?” I say to the man.

  “Of course, Jenna. You’re gonna help us, and we need to know what you’re up to at every moment. It’s obvious from those photos that you have the information we need. Now it’s time to offer it up.”

  I’m pissed now. They don’t have anything on me. This whole situation has been ruining my life, and I’m about sick of it.

  What would feel most right is to just tell Braden all of this. But who knows, maybe they have his apartment bugged? Maybe they’re following him as much as they are me. Maybe the whole club’s being watched.

  “It doesn’t sit well with me that I’m being followed when you have no actual evidence against me,” I say to this Mr. Harrison if that is, in fact, his real name.

  “You better be careful, sweetie, because you’re skating on thin ice, and you’re about to go down hard with the rest of them.”

  Hmm. I’m offended. It’s a classic intimidation technique.

  These dirty cops have nothing on me and probably nothing on The Billionaires Club. I’m sick of being put in the middle of this and of dealing with them.

  “Excuse me, is that a threat?”

  “It may be. You’d do well to abide by it.”

  His tone is frightening. This is the FBI, not your average NYC policeman. I feel like I’m playing with fire, and I might get burned.

  “If you don’t give us what you want, you will pay.”

  I summon my courage to say, “This is coercion, and I don’t think that’s very legal, Mr. Harrison.”

  “Don’t mess with us, Jenna. You have the option of immunity now, but I can take that away at any moment.”

  The reality of the situation is starting to scare me, and I truly don’t see a way out. What are my choices? I’m racking my brain, trying to stall and to come up with a plan.

  “Well, I need more time. I have the plans, but I need to go over them myself first. You can at least give me that.”

  “I’ll give you that,” he says. “But this is your last chance and warning.”

  Finally, I think of an idea. This may save the situation if I can just figure it out.

  For now, I tell him, “Okay, fine, Mr. Harrison. I’ll give what you want. I’ll work for you. But first, I think you should give me some time to try to get more out of Braden. I know he’s harboring another secret. And with just a little more influence, I can get it out of him. Please, just let me finish this.”

  There’s a pause as he considers my position.

  “Okay, Jenna. I can give you that. Try to squeeze Braden for all he’s got. But then we want everything. If I give you this time, I’m going to expect huge gains, got me?”

  “Yes, Mr. Harrison. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

  I hang up on him and think that at least I’ve bought myself some more time. I’ve got the FBI breathing down my neck, but with this new leverage I’ve bought, I know what to do.

  That’s all I need. A little more time.

  Chapter 22

  Braden

  The smell of the racetrack turns me on.

  The fast cars driving by cause excitement to stir in the air.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be out here because the Feds are on to me, but I can’t stay away.

  Besides, what am I going to do? Burrow away in a hole somewhere and hide? That’s just not my style, I’m afraid.

  My car is ready, equipped with all the new technology. I’m going to win as usual. Only this time, Jenna knows my plans. Doubtless, she was impressed by the plans.

  She’s as into this stuff as I am, and I know when I planted those blueprints for her to find that ultimately she would come to see my genius.

  Why do I care to impress Jenna when she has obviously turned her back on me and on what could’ve been a great relationship?

  I’m in the car checking all the gears. Everything has to go great because I’ll be moving at supersonic speed.

  There’s always a risk in racing that something could go wrong, and that adds to the excitement. My technology especially brings things up to a new level, so I have to make sure everything’s in order or the crash could be ugly.

  That’s why the Feds are onto us, I guess. Not only do they want the technology but it’s also fucking dangerous out here.

  I look up, and that’s when I see her coming down the street with her crew. She’s wearing all leather, and her body looks tight. Her long hair is flowing, untamed as usual.

  Damn, I long for her feisty spirit and for this to have worked out a shade differently. But as it is, I’ll work with what I have.

  She sees me and flashes me that million-dollar
grin.

  I want her so bad. I want to take her right here over the hood of my car. I want to drag her into an alley and fuck her brains out and punish her for even thinking of turning to the Feds instead of to me.

  I grit my teeth and try to control the burning desire to have her.

  As much as I hate to do it, I know I can’t trust her, and I have to control myself around her. I have to be careful and to not let my heart get involved.

  One thing I do know about Jenna is that I need to figure out her game plan. I need to be sure of everything she’s up to, only then can I gain the upper hand.

  So for now, I’ll play nice.

  She walks up to me and my crew disperses. She looks so hot in that skin-tight outfit. She’s always been the hottest one at our races, and today’s no different.

  “Hey, babe,” she says. “Nice ride.”

  I get out of the car to greet her. I kiss her cheek.

  “Thank you. You look gorgeous as ever.”

  She does a little spin and says, “Do you like my all-black outfit?”

  “Yes, it matches your hair. And your dark personality,” I say, probing her.

  She can’t betray me like she did and not expect to receive some taunting. I will make her pay for this one way or another.

  “Dark? What’s so dark about me?” she deflects.

  I grab her by the waist and pull her close to me. Her body feels so right enveloped by my own. I want her badly.

  I kiss her passionately. It’s like a Judas kiss, one laced with betrayal and ill intentions.

  She doesn’t know that I’m on to her. Or does she?

  “So how do you think you’re gonna do today?” I say into her hair that smells of coconut.

  “Well, I’ve implemented some things. We just might win,” she says.

  My heart sinks because I know she’s lying. How can she stand there, staring at me straight in the face, and just lie?

  All my perceptions about Jenna were wrong. Here I thought she was this honest person. And now I feel disappointed and jaded by her almost.

  I say almost because the sight of her always brings me home. She’s gorgeous and amazing, and I want to bed her all the time. I don’t care if it’s an alleyway or my own room—I want to strip Jenna down and make her apologize and make her beg for it.