Fake Marriage Box Set (A Single Dad Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “I did what I should have done in the first place?” Andrew told me. “God, I was so stupid. I made such a rookie mistake. One that I never should have made. I didn't bother to check my sources. I didn't double-check the so-called evidence. That's something that I should never have done.”

  “And now?” I asked.

  Andrew grimaced. “I had Janice collect a few hair samples earlier today,” he admitted. “I know that I should have just trusted you, that I shouldn't have even had to check, but I figured for both of us, to let this rest once and for all, I should get the real truth. I paid one of the best paternity test clinics in the city to expedite the results this afternoon. It turns out that that other sample wasn't from Emma at all.”

  I started to feel irritated, wondering if he thought he could just jerk me around and play with my feelings. What right did he have to do this to me? And to Emma as well. “Well, I'm glad that you enjoyed playing forensics analyst for the day,” I snapped. “I'd better go figure out where Emma went so we can get out of here.”

  “Wait, hear me out,” Andrew pleaded.

  “I'm sure you're going to tell me that when you actually had the paternity test done with Emma's hair, you found out that she wasn't your daughter,” I said. “You continue to refuse that you have any sort of responsibilities toward her.”

  Actually, I wasn't sure what I wanted to hear: that he had been able to confirm that Emma was actually his daughter, or that she wasn't. At this point, there was no way that he and I were going to be able to stitch up our relationship. So either way. It didn’t matter.

  “But it wasn't a mistake,” Andrew said, catching my hand and holding me there. He was still down on his knees, and I could easily have broken his grasp and left, but something kept me standing there, waiting to hear what else he wanted to say. “After contacting people, I was able to find out that the other hair was Renée's. All that other paternity test proved was that I hadn't fathered Renée. And when I did some further digging into your background, I saw that the conviction had also been faked. It was well done. I'm sure she paid a fortune for it, but it wasn't real. I should have listened to you.”

  “You should have,” I agreed, staring at a point somewhere over his head. “But you didn't. Now, I think I should be leaving. I'm just going to go get Emma, and then we'll be gone.”

  “Wait,” Andrew said again, finally getting up off his knees. He caught both my hands in his, staring intently into my eyes. “Once I figured all this out, I decided on a course of action. I'm punishing Renée indirectly by withdrawing all of the investments that I had in her family's holdings. In addition, I've submitted all the evidence to the police, and she's being charged with fraud, harassment, and stalking, as well as a few other crimes.”

  “Am I supposed to be happy about that?” I asked.

  “I got a restraining order against her,” Andrew continued earnestly, as though I hadn't spoken. “She'll never be able to meddle in our relationship again. She won't be able to come near any of us. I promise.” He frowned. “Because of her status and her wealth, it's unlikely that she'll actually have to do time for any of this, unfortunately. She's not a danger to the public at large. But there's a big enough scandal already. She won't want to come anywhere near me and risk violating the restraining order. Plus, I have a feeling her family will be keeping a close eye on her after all of this as well.”

  “Great,” I said dryly. “I'm glad that you're getting your revenge, but—”

  Andrew interrupted me with a kiss. It was totally inappropriate, and I knew that I should be protesting, that I should be fighting my way out of his arms, collecting Emma, and leaving, once and for all.

  The logical part of me tried to insist that he had just made a mistake, but that mistake still hurt. And I was terrified to think about what it would feel like the next time things didn't work out between the two of us. I didn't think I could handle that again.

  Especially since Emma was already way too attached to him.

  But I didn't push Andrew away. In fact, I leaned into him, finding my balance there against the warmth of his chest. I kissed him desperately, my teeth clacking against his and my fingers twisting in the lapels of his shirt. I never wanted to let him go, but eventually, I had to pull away. I ducked my head down, leaning my forehead against his collarbone, still unable to relinquish my grip on the soft fabric of his shirt.

  I started to sob, and Andrew's arms came up around me. “Oh, Lexi,” he murmured into my hair, laying his cheek alongside the top of my head. He sighed heavily. “I don't know how you're ever going to be able to forgive me. I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to forgive myself.”

  He kissed my hair and then continued. “I was scared, to be honest. I'm so deeply and helplessly in love with you. I think that maybe I was looking for something to be wrong, just so that I could get out of this. I'm so scared of being in love that I had to find something wrong with you. Renée played on that fear. She knew exactly what she was doing. I just can't believe that I fell into her trap.” He paused. “I've never had a relationship like this before. I've never had a girlfriend who I loved like I love you.”

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Did Andrew Goldwright really just tell me that he loved me? In the past twenty-four hours, it felt as though my entire world had been shaken like a snow globe. First, he'd accused me of conning him, and now he was telling me that he loved me. I felt lost.

  “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  I sniffled, already feeling calmer, the more he talked about the reasons behind his fears. “Am I actually your girlfriend?”

  “You have been for a while now,” Andrew said. He looked uncomfortable. “I've actually been thinking of you in my head as being my girlfriend. We should have talked about that a long time ago, and the fact that we didn't was inexcusable. Yet another bout of stupidity on my part.”

  I frowned at him. “Do you want this?” I asked. “Emma and I, and everything that comes with having a family? If you don't, you have to let me know. If you don't want to commit, you can't keep stringing me along.”

  “I want this,” Andrew said. “I'm terrified, but I want this.”

  “And you're never going to see Renée again?” I felt stupid once the words left my mouth, but I supposed I had to ask them.

  Andrew didn't seem to mind the question, either. “I'm never going to see her again,” he vowed, cupping my cheek in his palm and stroking his thumb across my cheekbone. He cracked half a smile. “At least she, unlike you, will wind up with a criminal record after this. Maybe we should order a copy of it and then hang it on the wall.”

  I snorted and then punched him in the arm. “You really think it's going to be that easy to win me back?” I asked.

  I expected some other flippant line, but Andrew's gaze turned more serious than I'd ever seen it before. “I'm going to have to spend some time winning back your trust,” he said. “I'm not letting you go, not unless you really want to leave.” He paused. “But I thought maybe tonight, I could start my apologies by making dinner for you.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you aren't trying to give me reasons to leave?” I teased.

  Andrew snorted and hugged me tightly. “I love you,” he said quietly into my ear. “I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say it before you believe me, but I'm going to keep saying it.”

  “Good,” I whispered back.

  As we hugged, Emma ran back into the room, and seeing us, joined our hug, wrapping her arms around our legs. We giggled and broke apart, and Andrew scooped his daughter up into his arms. “Come here, you!” he said, giving her an Eskimo kiss before he set her back down again. “Want to help me make some spaghetti?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Andrew

  Over the course of the week, things started to return to normal. I wasn't working as much as I should have been, and I could tell from the looks that everyone was giving me that it was no secret how distracted I was
. But one of the perks of being the CEO of a company was that no one could really pull the boss aside and ask if he shouldn't just stay home for the day or give him a lecture on his responsibilities to the company.

  On Friday afternoon, just as I was getting ready to call it a day, I got a call that my secretary immediately transferred over to me. I frowned down at the blinking light, debating not picking it up. After all, I was ready to go home for the day. Surely whoever was calling could wait until Monday for an answer?

  But that thought, in itself, made me feel guilty. I hadn't been giving the company my full attention that week, being so focused on how I was going to make things right with Lexi. I should at least pick up this one last call before I called it quits for the week.

  “Orinoco Enterprises, this is Andrew Goldwright speaking.” I hoped whoever was on the other end of the line could hear the combination of “I'm not interested in whatever it is you have to say” and “I'm leaving the office, so this had better be quick.”

  “Andy, so good to hear from you,” Renée said sweetly, as though I'd been the one to call her, instead of the other way around.

  I scowled, debating just hanging up on her. But I knew she would probably just call back if I did so. And if I didn't answer my work phone, she would call my cell phone. I really should have the numbers changed, but there were too many people who contacted me through those numbers for work, and I didn't want to cause chaos and confusion. Still, I should remind Renée that she was breaking the law by calling me, in any case.

  “You're violating the terms of the restraining order by calling me.” The judge had signed off on the documents a few days ago, and that meant that she couldn't come near Lexi, Emma, or I physically, but it also meant that she couldn't call us or contact us by email or any other means.

  “You've got a restraining order?” Renée shrieked, even though she should have already been aware of this.

  I frowned and wondered where that miscommunication might have occurred. She had been served the papers, as far as I knew. But maybe she hadn't opened them.

  I couldn't imagine her not opening them, though. I would have thought the curiosity would be enough to get her to look at them immediately.

  She was still ranting, clearly pissed. “I can't fucking believe you! And coming after my family as well? What the hell is that? It's bad enough that you spread all those lies about us to anyone who would listen, but now Dad says you've quit investing in all of the companies that he has stock in, and that's making him look really bad. Our stock prices are plummeting. Honestly, with the way that you've been acting lately, I'm starting to wonder if you've been poisoned or something. It's just not like you! I mean, you were always a cold, insensitive bastard, but this is just crazy.”

  “Renée, I'm going to give you ten seconds to hang up the phone,” I said, feeling almost like I was reasoning with a child. But then again, Emma was never like this.

  I didn't know why I was reasoning with her, either. I ought to just hang up and let the judge know that she had violated the restraining order. There would be evidence in the phone logs. But there was something that kept me on the line with her, listening to her hurl insults at me.

  I wondered just what that was. I had never been a masochist before. Maybe it was just the fact that I had been trained, as a businessman, that you don't walk away from your arguments. Instead, you sit down and reason things out.

  Or maybe it was that I thought I deserved every insult that she wanted to hurl at me. Especially after the whole debacle with Lexi over the DNA test and the crime rap. Or maybe it was something else, something to do with the weirdness of her calling me in the first place. If she didn't know about the restraining order, as she claimed, why hadn't she shown up at my work again? She seemed to have no problem doing that, and even though I'd threatened to call security on her the last time, I wasn't really stupid enough to think that would actually deter her.

  “You bastard,” Renée snarled. “You picked the wrong person, but I'm going to fix all of that; don't you understand?” She said something else that I didn't quite catch.

  Come to think of it, there was something weird about the phone quality in general. There was a lot of background noise, including what sounded like cars. But it wasn't typical cell phone quality; it was worse than that. I could hardly hear her at times, as though she was too far from the microphone for it to pick her up.

  I gave a mental shrug. She was probably just doing something strange with the phone while she had her little hissy fit.

  “Renée, you're a deluded fool. You know we're never getting back together again. I have made that quite clear. You're lucky that I haven't done worse than I already have to you. I could ruin your whole family if I wanted to.”

  “Do you actually love the bitch that much?” Renée asked.

  “If by 'the bitch,' you mean Lexi, then yes. I do.”

  Renée laughed. “Oh, that's rich. Like you would ever be capable of love. You don't even know what love is, you twisted bastard. Did you hear that? He says he loves you. But love isn't going to save you from a bullet.”

  I frowned, trying to piece together exactly what I was hearing, when suddenly things became all too clear. “Renée, where are you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level and careful when really, I was starting to panic inside.

  She laughed again, sounding manic this time. “Wouldn't you like to know,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “Renée, what have you done?” I asked.

  I inwardly cursed the fact that I was on my office phone rather than my cellphone, since it meant that I couldn't go tearing out of there like I so desperately wanted to do. That was probably for the best in the long run, because I knew that confronting Renée right now was only going to make things worse. But at that moment, thinking of the things that she could have done to the people who I loved, made it impossible to stay calm.

  “You really should get better security at your place,” Renée said, sounding careless and nonchalant, as though she were talking about the weather. “I know you've never cared about your money, but now that you do have something that you seem to care about, you'd think that you would take better care of it,” she continued. “Unless maybe that's the whole point of it. You don't actually care about the bitch and the brat at all, do you?”

  My blood ran cold. “Renée,” I said warningly, but I couldn't get anything else out.

  I frantically searched through my laptop for the number that I needed, and I knew that the longer I could keep her on the phone, the more time I would buy.

  “Don't worry,” Renée said sweetly. “I'm not a total bitch, although that's what you seem to think. I left the brat and your maid at your house. They're locked in a closet and can't get out, but they're safe. I don't care about them. No, your bitch is the one who I've got a problem with.”

  I was flooded with relief hearing that Emma and Janice were unharmed, but that didn't change the fact that I still didn't know where Renée was or what she'd done to Lexi. I remembered what she'd said about a bullet and realized that Lexi must be there, and that Renée must be planning to shoot her. She hadn't shot her yet, but she was planning on it.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Please, Renée,” I begged. “Please, let Lexi go. It's me that you have a problem with, not her. If you let her go, I'll give you anything. You know that I can do that. I'll give you anything.” I hated sounding that desperate. I hated begging, and I hated that I was bending to her game. But it was all worth it, if it meant that I could ensure Lexi's safety.

  “The only thing that I want, you're never going to give me,” Renée said acidly. “Not as long as this bitch is still here to poison your mind. Don't you think I don't realize that? But once she's out of the picture, you can be mine again. Just like it's meant to be.” She was quiet for a moment. “You and I were meant to be together. I knew that long before you did. Our families are meant to be joined, with all of our wealth pooled together. And you and I would have been
the poster children for the elite, the perfect relationship standard. We'll look so good on the cover of all the magazines, don't you think?”

  I could tell from the way that she was changing between different verb tenses, between what she wanted to have happen and what she imagined would happen, that she was totally gone. There wasn't anything left.

  And logic didn't work on someone who had no sanity left.

  But I had to at least try. “Renée, please. There must be something else that you want. I could give you everything that I own; wouldn't that satisfy you? You'd be one of the richest people in the world. I'm sure men would be knocking themselves out trying to get a date with you. You'd forget all about me. Wouldn't that be better?”

  “You bragged about your wealth and power before,” Renée said mockingly. “You thought it made you so high and mighty. But now I have all the power. Right here.”

  “Anything you want, Renée,” I said again, stressing the words so that she would know how serious I was.

  “Hmm, I'll think about it,” Renée chirped. But her laugh told me all that I needed to know: she wasn't even considering it. Her mind was probably fixated on her obsession: the idea of killing Lexi.

  And Lexi, I could only imagine what she must have been feeling. She would be terrified. So would Emma. Janice would try to hide her own terror to comfort the young girl, but she would be scared as well. And all of this was my own fault. Why had I been so stupid? Why hadn't I realized that Renée would do just this? A restraining order meant nothing to her. She was psychologically unsound.

  “If I see the police, I'll kill her,” Renée said, her final words before she hung up the phone.

  For a moment, trapped in my worried thoughts, all I could do was stare at the receiver and listen to the dead line. Then, I sprang into action, punching out the number that I had up on my computer screen. It was for a private security firm that I worked with. I had suspected that Renée wouldn't want the police involved. I fully believed her when she said that she would pull the trigger if she saw police. But the security firm would know what to do. They were trained for this sort of thing.