by Nikki Chase
“No, I’m completely serious.”
She goes quiet, her eyebrows pulled close together until small lines appear in the stretch of skin between them.
“What's the catch?” Piper asks. Smart girl.
“I’ll need you to come with me to two events,” I say, deliberately leaving things vague to maintain her interest.
“What kind of events?” Her frown grows deeper. She squints at me. “It's not, like, an orgy or anything like that, is it?”
I burst into laughter. She may look like an innocent angel, but she has a dirty mind. I like that her first guess is a sex party.
“No, they're just regular parties,” I say when my laughter dies down.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Sure, it's a friend’s wedding and my parents’ anniversary. I guarantee you, no orgy, or any kind of public sex, will take place at either one of those events.”
She looks at me like I’ve just sprouted horns. Fair enough, it is an unusual offer.
“Okay…” She trails off and bites her lower lip, looking like she's trying to decide how to respond. “So I’ll go as your date, is that it?”
“Exactly.”
“Why me, though? Don't you have any friends who’d go with you?”
Well, yeah, but they're all crazy girls who'd get the wrong idea, I think to myself. I don't feel like telling her this, though. For some reason, it feels wrong to be telling her stuff about the other girls that I see.
“I’m offering you free rent here. You may want to ease up on the questions,” I say. If I were in her position, I’d take the offer before it's too late.
“Yeah, but I’m a girl living on my own in the city. I need to be careful. You haven't even told me how many months of rent would be waived,” she says, kicking off the negotiations.
“I’ll let you stay for free until summer’s over,” I say. My father wants to see the income statements related to the rental, but since I fired Teresa and will be preparing them myself, I can write whatever I want on them.
Piper’s eyes widen. A smile blooms on her beautiful face. Like petals, her lips part and she asks, “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
She bites her lower lip again, which only makes me want to take a nibble myself. She says, “Could you at least tell me why you need a date?”
For a moment, I wonder if I should tell her it's so I can regain my position within the bank. But as beautiful as she is, I barely know this girl. Underneath the pretty packaging, she could be a money-grabbing monster for all I know. If she finds out there's a lot of power and money involved, she might start demanding more.
I look around us at the other diners in the busy restaurant, looking for inspiration.
A businessman behind Piper is reading a newspaper while drinking coffee. An older couple is sharing a big plate of French toast. A woman at the table next to ours is on the phone, and she's wearing a black shirt with a pink charity pin on her chest.
That's it.
“It's my parents,” I say. “My mom is sick and she really wants to see me with a good partner. You know, in case she...can't be around for me anymore.” I look down at my empty plate, hoping I look sad enough to convince her.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she says. “What kind of illness is it?”
“Breast cancer,” I say, recalling the pink-ribbon pin I’ve just seen.
She takes a sharp breath, clearly buying my sob story.
“So would you do it?” I ask, eager to close the deal.
“Yeah.” Quickly, she adds, “But this is strictly business, okay?”
“Perfect. This must be my lucky day, because that’s exactly what I want.” I give her a smile, but not an overly cheerful one to suit the somber mood. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, about the same time as today. Wear something nice. We’re going to a wedding.”
I heave a sigh of relief. I’ve overcome the first hurdle, which is finding the right girl.
Now, I can start to have a little fun now, maybe even try to get into the pants of my fake girlfriend for real.
Chapter 9
Raphael
She looks like a fucking movie star. I swear my heart skips a beat when she opens the door in a stunning red dress. It’s sexy but classy at the same time, showing off her tits and ass without being in your face about it.
Her blonde hair is swept up into a neat bun-like thing, with just a few strands framing her face, making her dazzling blue eyes pop.
“I can’t imagine a better date to show off at a wedding,” I say, holding my hand up to my heart.
“Thank you.” Piper blushes and smiles, then she turns around a little too quickly to lock the door, like she doesn’t know how to handle the attention. With her hair up, I can see the back of her neck and shoulders, the soft, creamy skin inviting me to touch her.
As we walk down the hallway, Piper keeps glancing at her skin-colored high-heeled shoes, the light fixtures along the wall, or some random things on the carpet—anything to avoid looking at me.
It’s kind of cute, the way she loses her composure. And I like that I’m the one who’s getting her all flustered. I don’t care, though. I can’t stop staring at her even if I tried.
I need to take a picture of her and stare at it from time to time. Wait, what am I talking about? We’re definitely going to take lots of photos—that’s the whole reason why we’re doing this today. This is not a date.
But there’s no reason why it can’t be one either.
She seems to have difficulties maintaining her balance with the heels, so I offer her my arm as we walk down the stairs.
Her little delicate hand wraps around my arm, and I curse whoever it was that first decided that men have to wear a long-sleeved shirt and a suit jacket to weddings.
I want to feel her skin on mine, and I’m not just talking about hands and arms either. We can start there, and then I’d pin those hands down and have my way with her.
My cock stirs in my pants, and I remind myself to think about something else. It would freak her out to see me get a fucking hard-on from just her hand on my arm. She’d think I’m a sad, lonely creep who never gets laid. As if bribing her to be my date isn’t weird enough already.
I swear I’m not usually like this, but there’s something about Piper that just turns everything upside down and inside out.
As we walk out of the apartment building, I half-expect a red carpet to magically unroll in front of us, or a swarm of paparazzi to crowd around us. But there’s nothing. Not even a lone photographer hiding in the bushes.
I’m a little disappointed, because that would’ve been hilarious. But I’m glad to have Piper all to myself.
“Allow me,” I say as I step in front of her and open the car door. She gives me a sweet smile as she steps into the car and takes a seat.
If there's a girl who doesn't like a man who opens the door for her, I haven't met her. This is an easy way to gain rapport with the female species, and a cool trick to make them think of me as a potential mate. In short, it's an anti-friend zone antidote.
“How’s your mom doing?” Piper asks as soon as my ass lands on the driver’s seat.
Right. I almost forgot about my mom’s supposed breast cancer. I’m probably going to hell for this, but the story managed to convince Piper to help me so it did the job.
This is all going to be worth it when I gain Dad’s trust and my old position within the bank. And I may even get to have a little fun with Piper. No harm, no foul.
“She’s doing okay.” I glance at Piper as I turn on the engine and begin the long drive to Seth’s place. It takes about two hours to get there, and I’d run out of juice if we had to spend the whole time talking about my mom’s fake illness. So I put on a sad face and say, “I’d really rather not talk about it if that’s okay.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry,” she says.
“No, it’s okay. It was really nice of you to ask.” Now i
s probably the right time to change the subject. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Tell me something about yourself.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, anything. I practically know nothing about you. Hell, I know more about your cat than I do about you.” I laugh. I’ve even had that cat on my lap, but I haven’t had her there—not yet. But I keep that thought to myself. Instead, I say, “Anything you tell me would probably be new and interesting to me. Like, for example, you’re a student, right?”
“Yeah,” she says tentatively, like she’s a little worried about where the conversation is going.
“Well, what do you study?”
“Music,” she says.
No way, my random answer to Diana was actually the correct guess.
“Oh, what instrument do you play?” I ask, hiding my surprise. “Wait, let me guess. You play the guitar.”
She smiles. “That’s not fair. You saw me carry a guitar on my back at the mall.”
“Yeah, you got me. I did.” I grin. I don’t really care about making the right guess, but I’m glad she’s peeking out of her shell.
“But you’re still wrong. I play the guitar, but my main instrument is the piano,” she says.
“I see. I don’t know much about music, but that’s slightly harder to carry on your back to the mall, right?”
“Yeah.” She laughs, which sounds better than music to my ears.
“So what do you do in your classes? Do you just play piano all day?”
“Well, yeah, I do that a lot. But I also learn things like history, performance techniques, and the music business.”
“See? That’s interesting to me. I didn’t know there were so many things music students had to learn. What’s your favorite subject?”
Once she gets going, Piper has no problem coming up with things to say. The two hours go by quickly as I listen to stories about her college experience.
It seems like so long ago since I was a student. With her chatter, Piper reminds me of some happy times, when everything was fun and easy.
As I drive up Seth’s obnoxiously long driveway, Piper’s eyes widen. She gets even more impressed when the house, which is equally obnoxious in size, comes into view.
“This is a beautiful venue for a wedding,” Piper says. “The owner rents it out by the day?”
“Um, no. The owner is the one getting married.”
That’s right. I forgot to mention that the groom is fucking loaded.
I don’t know how I got lucky enough to get another trust-fund kid as my cell mate in prison. Maybe the guards took pity on us because we looked so out of place, especially on our first few days.
As I park the car, I feel a little tinge of sadness in my chest. I’ve been enjoying our drive, and now it’s over. I want to spend more alone time with Piper, but now we have to be with people and socialize.
I almost want to keep driving, whisking her away on an impromptu road trip, but Seth would kill me if I did that. I would’ve survived prison just to end up dead at the hands of another ex-con; it would’ve all been for nothing.
Seth doesn’t like fuss, so I’m surprised he’s even having a wedding instead of just eloping to Vegas. I’m technically the best man, but I don’t have any duties, apart from delivering a speech during reception. I have my notes ready on my phone, and I’ve always been pretty good at public speaking anyway.
As we both make our way inside the mansion, I take another look at Piper. She looks so fucking beautiful. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to show her off a little bit.
I put my hand around her shoulders and pull her closer. I smile when she looks at me, her big blue eyes questioning and challenging me, although she doesn’t move away from my touch. Instead, she inches closer with every step we take on the marble floor.
“We’re supposed to be on a date, remember?” I ask.
“Oh, right,” she says.
I take a risk and put my hand on her waist. She doesn’t seem to mind.
I want to grab her harder and crush my lips against hers. I want to to push her against the wall and run my hands all over her body. Then I’d rip that dress off, pull her naked body against me, plunge balls deep inside her…
But all those things will have to wait.
Today, the agenda is for a toast and lots of selfies. And my hand on some part of Piper’s body at all times.
Chapter 10
Piper
“Give me your left hand,” Raphael says once the car is parked in front of my apartment building.
I put my hand on Raphael’s. After all day at the wedding, physical touch with him feels natural now, and I even miss it when we’re not touching.
Raphael has big, warm, masculine hands that make mine look tiny. In fact, everything about him makes me feel like he could either protect me or ruin me with the sheer power contained within that sculpted body. I just want to curl up against him and feel his strong arms around me.
Holy shit, maybe that’s why McClaw ended up on his lap the other day.
Raphael takes out something small from the pocket of his suit jacket. It glints under the yellow street lights, but I can’t tell what it is until he slips it onto my ring finger.
I look up at him with surprise.
“This is…”
“It’s an engagement ring,” he says casually, as if it’s normal to take your tenant out on a one date and put a wedding ring on her finger at the end of the night.
“And you’re putting it on my finger because…?”
“Oh, my family expects me to propose tonight, so now you’re supposed to be my fiancée. Since you’ll be seeing them next week at my parents’ anniversary, it’s best if you always wear the ring from now on, just in case you bump into them somewhere,” he explains.
“I don’t remember you telling me anything about being engaged,” I protest.
“Oh, I didn’t?”
“You just said to go to two events with you.”
“Well, you can keep the ring,” he says with a grin as he keeps holding my hand in his. “How about that?”
He doesn’t have to say that twice for me to nod and say yes. The ring is beautiful, with a big round diamond in the middle that must cost, like, a gazillion dollars.
I wish I could keep it, but that wouldn’t be wise or practical. Maybe I’ll sell it and use the money to pay off my student loan. Or maybe I’ll save the family home from foreclosure.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning next week, then. Pack an overnight bag,” Raphael says with a mischievous grin.
“An overnight bag?” I frown. Yet another surprise. “Are we actually going to stay the night?”
“Oh, I didn’t mention that either?”
“I would’ve remembered if you did.”
“Sorry,” he says. “You don’t mind, do you? If it’s too much for you, we can call off the whole thing. I’ll let you stay for free for one month because you’ve gone to the wedding.”
“No, I’ll do it,” I say quickly. I like living in my cozy little studio.
“Good.” The way Raphael looks at me makes me want to hide and get closer at the same time. I feel like he’s playing with me like a cat playing with his food, and yet I can’t stay away. I want to see what else he has in store for me.
Also, I have to admit, having his hand on my waist has resulted in my panties getting soaked by my own wetness. I’m being such a virgin and it’s embarrassing.
Luckily for me, Raphael’s not going to find out, although I’m starting to wonder if that’s a good thing. Obviously, a part of me wants more of whatever he’s doing to me.
“Aren’t you going to invite your fiancé up?” Raphael asks, his green eyes glinting wickedly in the dark.
I laugh nervously as I open the car door. “See you next week, Rafe.”
“Okay. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He shrugs. “Hey, another thing. The dress code is commando, so you’re not supposed to wear any underwear.”
�
��At your parents’ anniversary?” I grin at him as I close the car door. “Nice try, but I’m not going to fall for that.”
“Damn it,” Raphael curses playfully. “Well, good night, princess.”
My heart swells when he calls me that. It’s stupid, I know, but I do feel like a princess today, after the luxurious wedding, the ride in Raphael’s convertible, and the diamond ring.
“Good night, Rafe.”
I turn around and walk up the sidewalk to the main door of the apartment. Raphael’s car doesn’t leave until I’m safe inside the building.
It’s been a magical night. He has set the bar pretty high for a date. I don’t know if my future real dates can ever measure up to this fake one.
We’re somewhere near the shore, but the area is not familiar to me. Not surprising, since I’ve never been to most places not served by public transport.
Raphael grabs my large nylon tote bag from the back seat before I can touch it. He carries it and his own duffel bag easily with one hand.
“Where are we staying?” I ask. I don’t see anything that looks remotely like a hotel around here. In fact, the place looks more industrial than anything.
“You’ll see,” Raphael says with a secretive smile. “I’m glad you chose to wear a skirt today, by the way.”
“It just seems like the kind of thing a girlfriend would want to wear to meet the family,” I say. At least that’s what the articles online tell me, which is why I’m wearing a flowy A-line floral skirt instead of my usual skinny jeans.
But I keep that bit of information to myself. There’s no need to let Raphael know how nervous I am about this, and how much Googling I’ve done over the past few days.
“You mean a fiancée,” he says.
“Yeah.”
My jaw drops when we come to a clearing right by the water. There’s a big square area paved with concrete. On top of it is a helicopter.
Upon seeing us approach, some guys wearing black polo shirts beckon and point at the helicopter, I assume telling us to get in?