Marrying his Brother: A Fake Fiance Romance

by Tia Siren

  I dropped into the seat next to her, turning it back and forth a little. “All right, ask whatever you need to,” I said. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could get out of there. I could tell already that I was probably not going to enjoy this conversation.

  “All right, I know it's not something that most people like to think about, but do you have any preferences for what happens with your body after death? There's no guarantee, of course, that your final resting wishes will be adhered to, but this will at least give your friends and family direction.”

  I snorted. “I don't care what they do with me,” I told her. “They could burn me in the backyard and throw away the ashes if that's what they wanted. Although I'm not sure that's legal.”

  The attorney looked surprised. “Mr. Adams, may I remind you that funerary rites are generally performed for the comfort of those you have left behind? They might appreciate a more tactful celebration of your life.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Who might?” I asked. “My employees? They hardly ever see me. Nothing would change for them if I died. Let's see, who else? My parents? They were hardly ever around when I was growing up, and we communicate even less frequently now that I'm out of their house. I'm lucky if I hear from them once a month.”

  Lee tapped her pen against the table for a moment. “All right, you mentioned burning your body in the backyard, so I'm going to just list that you request to be cremated and to have your ashes scattered,” she said slowly. “Maybe we should start at the other end of things. Now, I received all the documents you sent over that outlined your financial and material holdings. Who do you plan to inherit that legacy once you've left this life?”

  “Once I've died,” I corrected automatically. I hated when people pussy-footed around the idea of death.

  I frowned, though, thinking over what she'd asked. It wasn't the first time I had thought about what would happen to my millions when I died, but I didn't have an answer for her. “Can I just arrange to have it all donated to some cause?” I asked.

  “I'm afraid the logistics of that would be too complicated,” Lee said. “You would at least need to designate someone as an officiant for your will, so they could make sure that was done.”

  “I don't have any kids,” I told her. “And as I explained, my relationship with my parents is strained.”

  “Perhaps there's a friend you could list?” I could tell that she was grasping at straws, and I hated it.

  I wanted kids, that was the thing. My father had never been around when I was growing up, and I'd mostly been raised by a succession of nannies. But I was sure I could be a better dad than he had been. I wasn't as devoted to my work as he had been. And I could afford to give my son or daughter everything that they could ever want in the world.

  It was just the relationship thing that made it difficult. How did you have a kid without having a relationship?

  I stood up abruptly. “Maybe we should come back to this on a different day,” I told her. “Send over a list of questions, and I'll try to have the answers ready for you next time.”

  “That might be a good idea,” Lee said.

  “Maybe I could take you out to dinner next time, though, instead of meeting you here,” I said, eyeing her shapely legs and hoping that she understood what I was suggesting.

  “I'm afraid I don't date clients,” she said, even though I could tell that if she had her way, I'd be taking her out to dinner that night.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “I'm not asking you to date me,” I said. “You're attractive, I'm attractive. We've established that I live a lonely existence. Sex is a great way to forget about the loneliness for a little while, isn't it?”

  Ms. Atwater stared at me for a long moment, and I thought she might reconsider her position on not dating clients. But then, she shook her head. “I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Adams. But you have a nice day.”

  I sighed and shook my head. When I put my hand in my pocket, I could feel the receipt with the deli girl's phone number on it. But I realized I didn't want a quick fuck. No, what I wanted was someone who would agree to carry my baby. All this talk about my will and my legacy reminded me of something that had been on my mind for a while now: I needed an heir.

  The trouble was, I didn't particularly want a relationship. My parents' relationship had never been particularly loving, and the older they got, the more distance they put between them. I knew some people felt like they needed to share their life with someone for it to feel fulfilling, but I wasn't worried about that.

  I liked my life, just the way it was. I liked the fact that I didn't have to worry about compromising. I liked the fact that I could take off for anywhere in the world at a moment's notice without worrying about leaving someone behind or coordinating plans with them. I liked that I could stay out all night with Chris if I wanted to, without having a wife back home worrying that I was out with another girl.

  All my physical needs were met with the one-night stands I had. I was nice to them, too. I made sure I was clear before I took a girl home, that this was just a one-time thing. I took them out for a nice dinner, and I usually stayed the night and cuddled, unless the girl made it clear that she didn't want me to. I wasn't one of those fuck-and-run guys who used women and then tossed them aside like they were dirty tissues. I just made it clear that I didn't do relationships.

  But I couldn't be without an heir forever.

  Chapter Four

  Paige

  Thirsty Thursdays were always busy at The Shift, even more so than Friday nights. That evening, there seemed to be an excessive number of low-tippers, though, which meant I wasn't earning enough to deal with the chaos. It was frustrating; most weeks, I could count on Thursday night's tips paying out well enough that I didn't need to worry about meeting my budget goals. That week, however, I was pretty sure I'd need to pick up an extra shift. I made a mental note to talk to Erica about it.

  There was one guy tipping well, at least. He was one of our regulars, and he was sitting down at the end of the bar with one of his friends. They had started out tipping well, and they were tipping better as they got drunker, so I made sure to keep sliding drinks their way, even though I could tell that Michael, the regular, was getting more and more down as the night went on.

  It was strange to see him like that; normally, he was quite the playboy, and the ladies all loved him.

  The other strange thing was that even after his friend went off with a lady, Michael continued to sit there at the bar, not engaging with anyone, just staring morosely down into his drink. I frowned, wondering if I should cut him off soon, but he wasn't causing trouble, and I didn't think he was all that drunk.

  I gave a little mental shrug and tried to put it out of my mind. It was easy to do, given how busy it was.

  Finally, we got a little lull in business, and I went over to dry some glasses next to them. “What's up with you tonight, Michael?” I asked him. “You seem down.”

  Michael gave himself a visible shake and smiled over at me. “I'm fine,” he said. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  I hummed in response. “Well, I can listen for a minute, if you need a sounding board. You know what they say about bartenders, they're the poor man's therapist.”

  Michael cracked a smile. “I'm far from being poor,” he told me. I just shrugged, and he sighed. “I had a meeting with my attorney,” he said. “I think I'm having a mid-life crisis.”

  I laughed as well. “Think you've got a few more years to go before you have a true mid-life crisis,” I pointed out. “Ten, at least.”

  “I don't have a wife or kids,” Michael said flatly.

  I frowned, about to say that I hadn't asked when suddenly I realized this was what he was freaking out about. “That's a weird worry to have,” I said, trying to figure out why he suddenly seemed so bothered by it. After all, he was a notorious playboy. He clearly liked to sleep around, so wasn't it his own fault that he didn't have a wife?

  “I want kids,” Micha
el said impatiently. “One kid, anyway. I need an heir.”

  I burst out laughing, unable to help it. “Right, of course, you're freaking out about having kids because you need an heir. God, is it the Middle Ages again? Did I miss the memo?”

  Michael groaned and slugged back his whiskey. I poured him another glass.

  “Why don't you just adopt?” I asked. “I know it can take a while, but you're young enough.”

  “I know it sounds selfish, but I want a kid that's my own flesh and blood,” Michael said simply, shrugging a little. He watched his friend, who was getting handsy with a blonde in one of the back booths. Finally, he shook his head and turned back to me. “I want a kid who can take over my business once I'm gone. Someone I can leave my fortune to. The problem is, I'm just not interested in having a wife.”

  He knocked back another drink, and I poured him another, accepting his tip and then going back to drying glasses.

  “I'm sure you have enough money that you could pay someone to have the kid for you,” I said. “Surrogacy, I believe it's called?”

  Michael's eyes widened. “I never thought of that before,” he said. Then, he frowned. “But don't most women want to have a normal family life with the father of her child?”

  I shrugged. “Not sure what the numbers are on that,” I said dryly. When Michael's face fell, though, I rolled my eyes. “Look, maybe most women might want that, but I'm sure there are women who don't mind. Surrogates are a real thing, after all. Don't couples who can't have kids use them all the time? There must be companies set up who could take your jizz and make it happen.”

  “Do you think it would take a long time to get to the top of whatever waiting list there is?” Michael asked. “They probably give priority to people who can't have children, rather than people who just don't want to be in a relationship.”

  “So tell them you're gay, I don't know,” I said, rolling my eyes again. Why was he making things so needlessly complicated?

  “Anyway, I'd kind of like to be part of it, when the child is conceived,” Michael mused, taking another sip of his drink. “I don't know, the whole idea of doing this medically, masturbating into a cup and then having that put in a syringe, that just seems so clinical. Cold.”

  “But the baby would never know that, would it?” I pointed out philosophically.

  “Maybe it would,” Michael said. “I grew up knowing full-well that my parents only got married because my mother was pregnant.”

  This whole bartender-as-a-therapist thing was starting to go a little too far, I realized. I didn't want to dissect his whole life and find out all about his daddy issues or whatever else might be lurking under the surface of his playboy attitude. We got too many guys like him into the bar, and even though I knew there was a reason they were so sleazy, I didn't necessarily want to know what those reasons were.

  I was certain if I knew all their backstories, it would destroy my faith in humanity. It was bad enough living with Erica and having to comfort her through all the assholes she brought home with her. I put my towel up over my shoulder, looking around for Erica. Fortunately, it was starting to get busy again, and I had run out of glasses to dry anyway.

  “I'm sure you could pay a girl to have sex with you and give you the baby,” I said, distracted now by trying to figure out who was the first in line at the bar. “There's got to be someone in this city that needs the money that badly.” I tried to think how much money someone would have to pay me to get me to carry a baby for them, but then, I shook my head.

  Michael seemed to think things over for a moment. “You know, I'll have to think about it,” he said, but for the first time that night, he looked relieved and some fraction of his ordinary self.

  More than a fraction of his ordinary self, I corrected myself, as he turned to the woman next to him and struck up a conversation with her.

  I shook my head and moved on to serve someone else. For the rest of the night, it was too busy to talk to anyone, and by the time I went home at the end of the night, I'd forgotten all about my time as a stand-in therapist for the rich regular.

  Chapter Five

  Michael

  I debated blowing off the meetings that I had scheduled on Friday morning, but the whole reason I had scheduled them for that morning was so that I could justify taking off Monday and Tuesday of the following week, giving me a long weekend to relax and unwind. Not that I needed to justify it; I owned the company, so it wasn't like anyone could say anything about my attendance. The work still got done, whether I was there or not.

  But every once in a while, I had to check in with various departments and make sure that everything would continue to run smoothly. That morning, it was the marketing department I had to talk to. Our latest advertising campaign had flopped, and we needed to talk about what had gone wrong and how we were going to make things better.

  The meeting was ridiculously boring, though, and I was hungover as shit. Beyond that, I hadn't even gotten laid the night before. I knew I was stressing more than I should about having an heir, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I couldn't relax, and I couldn't take a girl home for a meaningless fuck when all I wanted was to ask if she would have my baby for me.

  That wasn't exactly the kind of thing a man could just come out and say.

  It wasn't just that the attorney that had me thinking about this, though. I had always wanted a child. Call it a matter of pride, wanting to be able to raise a child better than my father had done with me. But even more than that, I wanted a kid that I could teach to ride a bike, play ball with, and groom to take over my business one day. The attorney may have put the idea of having a child at the forefront of my mind, but it wasn't a new desire.

  I thought back to the conversation I'd had with the hot bartender at The Shift. Paige, I remembered from her name tag. What she had said about finding a surrogate really stuck in my head. But like I'd told her, I wanted to find someone whom I could have a moment with, creating a life, but who wouldn't want any of the relationship ties.

  I wondered if Paige would be interested. I could pay her better than that bartending job at The Shift. And she was hot. It was in one of those careless ways, you could tell she didn't put much effort into it. She hardly even wore makeup, and her clothes were casual. I could only imagine what she would look like in something more formal.

  Mm, her in a dress, preferably one that exaggerated those sexy, swinging hips of hers. I could picture her sauntering across a fancy restaurant; everyone would turn to look at her. And then later, in the privacy of my room, I could strip that dress right off her, lay her down on the sheets and have my way with her.

  I cut off that line of thought before it could go too far because it was one thing to be distracted in one of these meetings, but it was another to be sporting a raging hard-on during them. I had no wish to embarrass myself.

  I couldn't stop thinking about Paige, though. She seemed intelligent, if our conversation from the previous night was anything to go by. She and I could make a good kid. The perfect little kid, one who could take on my business after me with no problem.

  Not only that, but Paige didn't seem all that interested in being a mother. Maybe her nurturing side just hadn't woken up yet, because I could tell she was a little younger than I was, maybe fresh out of college. But the way that she'd been discussing the situation last night made it seem like she wasn't one of those clingy women set on finding the perfect Hollywood relationship. She understood that the real world wasn't like that, and she was prepared to deal with it. I couldn't see her getting too attached to the kid.

  Not having to deal with a custody battle, that was big. My parents were still together, even though I knew that both were sleeping with other people. Al of the friends I knew whose parents were divorced had been unbelievably upset at the time, having to choose between their parents. If Paige didn't get attached to her baby, she wouldn't be worried if I demanded sole custody of the child.

  Especially not since it was clear that I
could give the kid a better life than she could, what with her night shifts at the bar. I could give the kid a future. She would probably be happy to hear that.

  I frowned, thinking it over. The more I considered it, the more it seemed like the perfect solution.

  The only question was, how would I approach her? It wasn't the sort of thing you discussed in the middle of a crowded bar. There would need to be some sort of contract; this was a business transaction, after all. I would pay her a certain amount of money, and she would give me a baby, with no strings attached. There would probably need to be some sort of NDA as well because, although I was okay with her telling her friends and family that she was mothering a baby for me, I didn't necessarily want it all over the media that I had to pay a woman so I could get an heir.

  That wasn't true, anyway. I didn't have to do it this way, it just seemed like the most expedient choice.

  Besides, I still wasn't sure what the legalities of this were. I knew that sperm banks and surrogacy agencies were a thing, but did a private arrangement like this count as buying a baby? I was confident that wasn't allowed. To protect both of us, I needed to have my attorney look into this.

  I grinned a little to myself, thinking triumphantly about how I would finally have the answers to all of Lee's questions.

  I texted Lee and told her to meet me in my office after the meeting. There was no time to waste.

  “Mr. Adams, if you asked me to meet you so that you could continue to proposition me,” she began.

  I waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, it's nothing like that,” I said, unable to hide my excitement. “I think I've found the perfect solution to my loneliness, and the perfect solution to the problem of my lack of an heir. I want to have a surrogate carry the child. That way, I won't have to be romantically involved with the woman, but the child would still be mine in the end. That's the way these things work, isn't it?”