Her First Dance: A Billionaire Fake Fiance Romance

by Suzanne Hart

  I gazed down at those wide open, almond eyes, and I knew I couldn’t deny them. I nodded. “Come into my office,” I said, leading her back into that pitiful rented space.

  She stopped in front of my desk when I shut the door behind her, glancing around. “I gotta say,” she said, “I just thought you had a better sense of interior design.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “It’s just a rented space.”

  “For discretion?”

  I nodded. “My real office is… different.” I said with a dry laugh.

  She sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “I’d like to see that.”

  “You probably will. One day.”

  Her gaze rested on mine, and I found myself lost in her stare yet again. In that moment, I had to let myself acknowledge how sexy she looked in that suit. I loved the way her breasts pressed against the buttons of that white shirt. I could see the outline of her bra through the white fabric. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining how she’d feel in my arms, her skin under my touch, her shudder at my tongue.

  She broke the trance first, looking away and clearing her throat. “Look, we have to talk.”

  I nodded. “We do.”

  “I know you’ve interviewed a billion people probably.”

  “Six.”

  She paused. “Over the same thing?” and then kept going, “But I’m the one you should go with.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because we already know each other. We already have chemistry. I know you like me… and I like you. You’re best friends with my brother, so there’s a believable meeting story right there.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this a lot.” I said. I narrowed my eyes at her. Truth be told, I was already imagining her in the dress, wearing the ring, but I couldn’t be sure if that was entirely because of this plan, or because of my own feelings for her.

  “I have. Look, I need the money.”

  I couldn’t understand what was happening. “I thought there was something happening between us.”

  But Nancy just bit her lip. “Me too.”

  “So, how do we do this? How do I pay you to pretend to be my fiancée?” I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  Nancy shrugged. “I know. It’s weird. God, it’s so weird. But I need this money for my studio… and you need someone so you can get this company. We are the best people to help each other out.”

  “But Nancy… you can’t ignore that something is happening between us.”

  She nodded. “I know and I wish I didn’t need to. But this is my dream. And I’m so close to it. Plus you can trust me with keeping a secret. You know you can.”

  I stared down at the NDA, opened to the signature page. I gazed down at the blank line. “This is my dream too.”

  Nancy leaned towards me, resting her arms on the desk.

  When I looked up at her, she was inches away from me.

  “So then let's help each other get there.”

  “This feels dangerous,” I said.

  She nodded. “That’s because it probably is.”

  I stared at her. I couldn’t deny that she was perfect. If she had walked into my office and I didn’t know her at all; if I was just meeting her, she would win the bid hands down. She was classy, but soft, and down to earth. She was kind, could hold a conversation, had real aspirations that didn’t conflict with mine. I could already see my family falling in love with her. “Are you sure?” I couldn’t think about how this would end, and I doubted she could either.

  She nodded. “Completely.”

  I sighed, pursing my lips because I had to do the hard thing. “If you sign this contract, it can be the only relationship between us for as long as this goes on.”

  She nodded again. “I know. I agree.”

  “And what about everything else? What about the real thing?” I asked.

  She folded her hand on the desk, a hard look in her eye that told me she was completely sure with her decision. “This is friendship. The only way we can make it through this and get what we both want, is if we keep our feelings out of it. Just box it up, pretend it doesn’t exist.”

  “All right. Then I guess we have a deal.” I said, not one bit sure about this.

  She stood. “Okay.” She sighed. She reached her hand out to shake mine.

  I took her hand, unable to take my eyes off of her. It wasn’t until she had turned to walk away, before I remembered, “Nancy…”

  “Yes?”

  I pointed at the NDA, sliding it towards her. “I have to… I have to make you sign this.”

  Her gaze shifted from me to the agreement and back again.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you- …”

  “No. I know,” she said, bending over.

  As I watched her put her name on the line, I couldn’t help but feel like we were making a mistake.

  10

  Nancy

  It was hard to wrap my head around the agreement with James. In that moment, in that office, there was nothing between us but that old desk and the binding contract on it. Yet, he had an undeniable pull. I poured myself another cup of burnt coffee and sat down at the small breakfast table I had managed to squeeze into my cramped kitchen. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t taken on this agreement. Would James and I have already planned our next date? A sigh slipped out of my mouth. I poured a hefty amount of milk into the mug, sloshing the brown liquid around with a spoon I scavenged from the bottom of my dish rack. Now was not the time to think of what could have been with James. The fact of the matter was that I was going to get my studio. Despite everything, it was finally going to happen.

  I glanced around, a smile playing on my lips as I thought about what would happen after all of this. I couldn’t stop the excited butterflies that fluttered in my stomach at the possibility of finally being able to quit that receptionist job at the salon, or dancing at the club. My brow furrowed. I had actually really enjoyed dancing there. It made me feel alive; a kind of escape from the rest of the world. But it was time to let go and follow my dreams.

  The sun shone through the modest window above my kitchen sink. It cast bright slivers of light onto the cracked, white tile floor. I could see myself moving out of this dingy apartment, finally living in a place where that old faucet didn’t leak, or where I didn’t have an ancient electric stove, or where I could sit at my kitchen table and actually be able to look outside. These thoughts filled my head, mixing in with the sounds of my clock ticking. It was an old thing I had picked out of a thrift store several years ago, with a wooden frame and these brass hands that shook a little every time they moved. Sounds of cars passing by outside, and kids playing in the courtyard of my building drifted through the thin walls. I lingered there a little longer, wondering where I would move if I could get out of there. It was crazy to think that after all of this time, I was finally staring my dream in the face. Finally, something I had worked for was actually going to pan out.

  After the accident, I was back to square one. I had to do everything I could, push my body to the limit, to get myself on my feet again. Literally. The doctors were convinced I would never be able to dance again. But I didn’t give up. I spent an entire year focused on nothing other than my physical therapy, and even though I’d missed my opportunity with the dance company… at least I was dancing again.

  I finished my coffee and deposited the cup in my sink. My tired feet carried me out through the doorway of the kitchen and into the living room. I had filled it with a bunch of different little trinkets over the years since college. There was the faded, brown leather couch, a distressed wood coffee table, a fluffy, brown rug, old paintings and news clippings on my wall; and they all perfectly emulated my experiences after I moved down to LA. Even though this building was practically falling apart, I appreciated the little space.

  By that time I had managed to shower and settled on wearing an old sun-dress and a pair of cowboy boots I had snagged on
a trip to Austin a couple years back, I realized that I was already late. I rushed through blow drying my hair, putting on make-up and hurried downtown to the address where James told me to meet him. It wasn’t until I got to the gate that I even realized what it was.

  My jaw dropped when I pulled up to the security guard, clad in a white uniform. “Uhm… I’m supposed to be meeting James Paris here…” I said, breathless, my throat dry with excitement.

  The guard nodded and turned to his computer, smacking on a piece of gum the whole while. “Name?”

  “Nancy Abrams.”

  “You’re good.” He waved me through, opening the white gate in front of me and handing me what looked like a laminated pass attached to a lanyard. “Welcome to Paramount Pictures.”

  I drove through the long road, imagining it separating the outside world from the magic that happened inside one of the most famous Hollywood studios in the world. The streets were lined with trees, their green leaves rustling in the morning light. I couldn’t help but feel out of place with my old car and my old dress and my second-hand boots, but I didn’t want to dwell on that too much. Maybe I would actually get to meet a star.

  Eventually, I got to another checkpoint and gave the guard my name again. He nodded and said, “Go to lot 78. I think Mr. Paris came through here a couple of minutes ago.”

  My heart thudded in my chest as I drove on, following the signs to the right lot. I clenched the steering wheel with my trembling fingers. The feeling of uncertainty of what could be coming next made my knees weak. The next thing I knew my car wheels crunched over some empty asphalt. I recognized James’s Mercedes from when he had met me at the dance studio the week before. I clutched my purse close to me as I got out of the car, just so that I would have something to hold on to.

  James was leaning against his hood, looking comfortable as ever on the inside of a Hollywood lot, with his arms crossed, his face adorning black sunglasses and his body covered in a long sleeve, black t-shirt and brown pants. A smile played at those lips as I crossed the small space to him. “Nancy,” he said, his silky voice slithering into my ears.

  I smiled at him. “I made it.”

  An urge to hug him gripped me. I could tell from the way he stood there, his posture open, that he felt that too. Yet, this contract was like an ominous wedge between us, daring us not to push its boundaries. I was afraid to touch him again, afraid to acknowledge my ever-growing feelings for him, afraid to complicate this any more than it already was. This was supposed to be a business relationship, and I wasn’t about to blow it.

  He nodded. “Yes you did.”

  I looked around me. “So, a studio? How wild is this?”

  He shrugged. “I just thought it would make more sense than running around the city. If we tried to do that, it would take us half the week.”

  “Which we don’t have.”

  “Exactly.” He shifted his gaze to the massive, white building behind us. “So,” he said as we started walking towards the door.

  I could practically sense his hand hovering just next to the small of my back.

  “I had a couple of sets made for us.”

  I ducked my head in disbelief. “You had sets made?”

  He gave a small wave of his hand. “Well, more so put together. They already had leftovers from random TV shows. I doubt my family will notice anything. I think it’s pretty well-masked.”

  With that, he opened the door and we walked inside. I was bombarded with the cold air. I blinked, taking off my sunglasses so that my eyes could adjust to the dim lighting. I was standing in a huge warehouse with different little nooks separating snippets of scenes. The first thing that caught my eyes was the cut out of a restaurant. Then, there was a bedroom and bathroom, a kitchen, a grocery store. We walked for ages until we came to a little hallway to the right with two doors at the end of it. One had James’s name on it and the other had mine.

  I shot him a look, my brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s this?”

  He chuckled. “Well if we’re gonna take six months’ worth of pictures in one day you need six months’ worth of clothes.”

  My eyes widened. Jesus, this was extravagant. “How did you even collect that many pieces?”

  He shrugged. “Some of them are real costumes that were used on sets before… I also hired a buyer to curate some things for you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Curate some things for me?”

  He nodded, pursing his lips. “I mean, I’m not an expert, but I tried to get you stuff you’d feel comfortable in.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks at that. I couldn’t imagine James thinking of me in particular pieces of clothing.

  He gestured at my door. “Go ahead,” He said. “We’ll change outfits every couple of scenes.”

  I pushed the door open, my eyes wide with curiosity as I entered the airy room and shut the door behind me. I flipped on the light switch. The door shut as a warm glow illuminated the room. It revealed a rack of clothes on the back wall, and next to it, hooks containing purses and hats. A large vanity stood to the right made of white wood and complete with a wide mirror framed with large-bulb lights. An array of make-up covered the table.

  I sighed, the little girl in me screaming with delight as I sifted through the shirts, pants, dresses, blouses, every piece of clothing, cut stitch, fit imaginable. A smile played at my lips as the cloth caressed my fingers. Everything suited me so perfectly. I chose a purple blouse with ruffles and a pair of Levis to start with and slipped into them. With that done, I explored the vanity. But in the end, I decided not to change anything save for the addition of a pair of diamond stud earrings. I brushed my hair a little bit. Then I went outside to find James standing there in a different t-shirt and jeans. “I forgot what to tell you what to dress for, but I guess you read my mind.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, well you totally read my mind with that wardrobe.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Really? Lucky guess.”

  “That’s a lot of lucky guesses.”

  We made our runs throughout the entire lot. We’d take a round of pictures, go in to change, and then take another round of photos. Our clothes carried us from spring to fall in terms of seasons, and I found myself obsessed with the collection of cozy luxurious sweaters. Eventually, sometime around early afternoon, I felt my stomach growling. It was just as James mentioned the idea of having a picnic.

  My eyes widened. “I’m so damn hungry,” I said.

  He laughed. “I meant for the pictures…”

  An impish grin spread across my face. “Oh okay.”

  “But if you’re hungry, we could just have a real one.”

  I sucked in one deep, grateful breath. “A picnic sounds amazing.”

  He nodded. “Okay. There’s actually a small market a couple of miles from here.”

  I grimaced. “A market? Miles?”

  He chuckled as he led me out to his car. “The people that work on movies spend most of the hours of the day here. I’m actually surprised there isn’t also a bed and breakfast.”

  I got in the passenger seat of his car, sinking into the cool leather and reveling at how tinted the windows were. I felt like I was in an exclusive cave as we raced down the road to the market. Once there, we picked up a collection of foods that were easy to eat: berries, pre-tossed salad, salami, cheese, nuts… and, as an afterthought, a bottle of white wine. We headed back to set up camp at the lot.

  Once we had gathered our things, he led me around the side of the building and into what seemed like a make-shift orchard. Then, we went off the main path and into a thicket of trees, the stones forming a winding path down the center. I was surrounded by huge tree trunks, the aroma of flowers and mud, the sound of fountains I couldn’t yet see. I loved the way that light filtered down through the leaves, gaining a slightly greenish hue from them. It was crazy that this was in the middle of a bustling muzzy city. I felt like we’d been transported in time and space to somewhere far away.

 
Eventually, we came to a small clearing with a bed of flowers and low bushes. “This is beautiful,” I said as James went to work laying down a blanket we had swiped from one of the prop rooms.

  “I was saving it for the proposal…”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that and started helping him lay out all of the food. I couldn’t even look him in the eyes without giving away my true feelings for him.

  Keep it simple, Nance! I told myself

  I started with the blackberries. I had insisted we get them, due to the sharp flavor that immediately exploded in my mouth as I ate one. I leaned back on my elbows, my face turned up to the sky, my body soaking in the warm sun. “This is so crazy.”

  “What?”

  I gestured around me. “All of this. Who rents an entire studio so that they can take a bunch of fake engagement photos, just to inherit a company?”

  James smiled, laying back on the blanket. “Me, I guess.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t imagine growing up like this.”

  He turned, propping himself up with his elbow. “Yeah, well. It is a different world.”

  “If I had this kind of money, I don’t think I’d ever have any real problems.” I said with a scoff.

  But then something changed in James’s face. His brow furrowed and I could see his lips downturn in the beginnings of a frown. “I can’t tell you how untrue that is.”

  I peered a little closer to him, wondering what I was missing. “What does that mean?”

  He cast his gaze down, his jaw hardening with whatever thoughts he had running through his mind. “Just that money means nothing when it’s just about all that you have.”

  My gaze narrowed. I looked into his shadowed green eyes, basking in that dark stare. I wanted nothing more than to understand him, completely. “Why are you being so cryptic?”

  His lips folded into a crooked smile. “Sorry, it’s just hard to talk about.”

  “What’s hard to talk about?”

  He looked me right in the eye then, “My family.”

  “What happened to your family?”