His Virgin Bride: A Billionaire Fake Fiance Romance

by Lila Younger

  “You didn’t think to look through the old files here? It details a bakery, a florist, a caterer. I’d bet you that at least one of them are still around. And what you can’t do, you can research. Look up another hotel that does something similar, see the rates and what they offer, and try to do the same. It’s not rocket science Bill. Big bookings like these will fill your rooms.”

  Bill sits back and rubs his face.

  “This is a headache,” he groans. “Can’t you do this sort of thing?”

  “No, I cannot,” I say sharply. “This is your business Bill. You have to be the one with the hunger to make it happen. You or Sandra. Now I know there are magazines you can write to, travel magazines, that will hopefully spark some interest. I bet there are shows too. Brochures you can make up. And of course you have to get yourself on social media. Claim your business on travel advisor, so that you know what your guests are saying when they leave reviews. And you need information. Your guests should be writing up some stuff at registration. How they found out about you, whether they’re new or returning, that sort of thing. Offer them a discount at their next booking. Or a discount for one of the local restaurants in town. That always helps. In this day and age, data is king. I know everything about my business. Where every cent is going. How much I profit. Comps in the area for comparable properties. You need to do the same.”

  “Okay, okay,” he says, lifting up his hands. “I get it. We’ve been doing it all wrong.”

  “You’ve been coasting. And it’s worked so far, but it won’t if changes are coming.”

  I lean back in my chair. I’m frustrated at Bill, but the harsh words had to be said. I wouldn’t be a friend to him otherwise.

  “I’m not done either,” I continue. “We can do more than just wedding packages. From what I see here, there’s a lot of great money to be made. We don’t have to do more than direct customers to local businesses. In return, we get a commission, say 10-15% of money, just for recommending them. We can set up fishing trips for example, or cooking weekends. And we should develop ties to a good restaurant in the area that could help us out for food. We don’t want to make it, but guests need to eat. Breakfast, dinner, why not build a mutually beneficial relationship with a place in town? And conferences would be perfect for a place like the B and B. A place where they sort of disconnect with the outer world to focus. Yoga is all the rage, and you’ve got a perfect front lawn for it. Businesses who want to do group building is another.”

  Bill’s head looks like it’s spinning. It is a lot to absorb all at once. I lean forward and clap a hand on his shoulder.

  “Listen, why don’t I write up a proposal for you? List things out so you can talk them over with Sandra. I can’t do your job for you, but hopefully this will be the start you need to really make changes.”

  “That would be fantastic James,” he says with relief. “You’re right. We’ve been lucky so far. Thank you for doing this for us.”

  “No problem buddy,” I say. “That’s what friends are for right?”

  Bill stands up and heads out. As soon as he does, I pull out my phone and open Facebook. I stare at the picture of Ava, debating with myself. I can still stop this, I think. And then I open up my messages and begin to type.

  Ava

  When I wake up the next morning, I can’t stop grinning like an idiot. I have the early shift, which means that I have to get up early to make breakfast for the guests, but even that doesn’t get me down. I hum happily as I take my shower, touching myself the way that James touched me. The man’s fingers are like magic. He wants me. More than that, he likes me, I think as I lather up with soap. I’m still a little sore from how much sex we had, but it’s a good kind of sore. I take extra time to blow dry my hair real nice, and then it’s into the kitchen. We’ve got enough rooms full that I can set out the buffet.

  First things first, I have to fill up the urn of coffee. It’s huge and heavy, but I’ve devised a method where instead of lugging it around, I take a big pitcher of hot water. It’s a pain, but I’m just not strong enough. I roll out the cart for dirty dishes, and set out the clean ones too. Then I fire up the heating trays, and head into the kitchen and get the oatmeal going. We also offer toast, bacon and eggs. It’s not a very fancy breakfast, but guests seem happy enough with it. On days when there’s not enough people to set out so much food, we do orders. Those are a pain in the butt, because then I have to hang around and wait to see if people will order food. And there’s always one or two that wait until nine-thirty to come strolling in asking for something fancy.

  “Hello dear,” a wavery voice greets me as I bring the pot of oatmeal out to the dining room.

  An old couple are standing in the doorway, right when breakfast starts at seven a.m. The woman has a cap of snow white hair and a gorgeous pastel pantsuit, while the old man is wearing a hat that matched his bowtie and suspenders. They look straight out of an old vintage film.

  “Hi Mr. And Mrs. DeVries,” I call out cheerfully. “How was your night?”

  The DeVries are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. They got married on the beach not far from here, so they like to come every few years. I’ve gotten to know them a bit. It’s one of the perks of working at a B and B. Last time, Mrs. DeVries even brought her wedding album so I could see what the place looked like back then. I loved spending an afternoon looking at the photos, talking with her and reminiscing. There were even a few color photos. I snapped a few pictures to use as inspiration for decorating too. In fact, the living room wallpaper was a replica based off one of Mrs. DeVries’ pictures. Despite their old age, the two of them still like to travel around a lot. Apparently, they’re making a trip down the whole Eastern Seaboard this time around.

  “Oh, it was so lovely,” Mrs. DeVries says, putting a plump hand on me. “You gave us the best room in the house this time, didn’t you?”

  “It’s my favorite one,” I agree. “I sometimes sneak up there to lie down and read on the chaise.”

  “What a marvelous idea. You look lovely today dear. Positively glowing,” she adds.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” I say with a blush. I can’t tell old Mrs. DeVries the real reason. She’d probably faint from shock. Although she has six children of her own, so maybe she won’t be that surprised.

  Mr. DeVries passes his wife a plate, then begins to load up on fluffy eggs and bacon.

  “Not so much bacon dear. You know what your doctor says,” Mrs. DeVries chides gently. I get the feeling she probably has said this many, many times.

  “I don’t trust that doctor,” he says. “I’ve eaten this way for fifty years, and I’m still fit as a fiddle!”

  Which is true. Mr. DeVries is wiry and thin, unlike my own dad. Sometimes I worry that he’s going to have a heart attack, what with his size and the stress he’s been feeling lately. The two of them grab their breakfast, and then, holding hands, they move to a table by the window. I smile as I watch them. Mr. DeVries holds out the chair for his wife, who slowly eases into it. The care and love he feels her is obvious. Fifty years of marriage, I think. That’s pretty rare in this day and age. I wonder if I’ll experience love like that someday.

  I leave Mr. And Mrs. DeVries to their breakfast and head over to the checkin desk. There’ll be messages to take down, and I believe at least two rooms will be checking out. And I’m not going to lie, I’m hoping to get a moment with James when he comes down hopefully. I pick up the phone and pull out a pen and paper.

  Unfortunately for me, James comes down right as I’m busing checking out a family. They have twins, and they’re running around, throwing goldfish at each other. The mother is yelling at them, and I’m already dreading what the room must look like. Still, I manage to forget it all for a moment when I see him. His hair is a bit tousled, like he just got out of a shower, and he’s got on a v neck sweater and jeans. He gives me a knowing smile that makes my stomach all fizzy feeling. I watch him walk through the doors to our private quarters, probably to tal
k to my dad. It’s not until the door swings shut that I snap back to my job.

  “I think that’s everything all taken care of,” I say, my mood instantly a hundred times better than what it was before.

  “Great,” the mom says. “I’m so sorry about the goldfish.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can sweep it up.”

  I hate sweeping, but it’s impossible to be in a bad mood when you’ve been smiled at by a man as hot as James. Once I’ve got the goldfish taken care of (though I just know I’ll find some a week later), I go into the back to file away the receipt. My dad has tried to get me involved in the business side of things, but I honestly have no interest in it. Numbers and I don’t really get along. I take after my mom in that respect.

  The door to the office opens and my dad and James step in. I pause uncertainly. Dad doesn’t look very happy, and I have a moment of panic where I wonder if James told dad or something? My fears are unfounded though.

  “We need to use the office Ava,” my dad says curtly. “Could you leave us alone for a while?”

  “Sure,” I say with relief. I quickly skirt past them, careful not to touch James. I don’t want to betray how I feel.

  The door closes behind me. Whatever they’re doing, it must be serious. I hop onto Facebook, but there aren’t any messages from James. I did get a text from Nikki reminding me that we have a nail appointment. I almost think about canceling, but I decide against it. Things have happened so quickly that I really need someone to talk to about this. I know what James and I are doing could ruin things after all, and that makes me feel awful. I head to the laundry room, where my mom is busy sorting a load of sheets.

  “Hey mom, do you mind if Nikki and I go out for a mani-pedi this morning?” I ask. “She’s only going to be here a week and I’d like to catch up with her some.”

  “Sure thing,” my mom says. “Just keep your phone on you in case your brother skips school again.”

  My mom looks so sad about it that I almost feel bad for putting more stress on her shoulders by refusing to go to college still. I know she’s worried about me, but I honestly don’t think two years is going to make that much of a difference. I mean, Macy’s mom only went to college a few years ago, and she’s my mom’s age. So why hurry when I don’t feel it’s right for me?

  “I’m sorry things have been so hard lately mom,” I say quietly. “Maybe it’s just a phase Gary’s going through.”

  “Yeah, but who knows how much destruction this phase is going to wreck. I never thought I’d see the day where I think ‘at least one of my kids has managed to graduate high school’,” she says sarcastically.

  She shakes out another sheet and begins to match up the corners. I don’t have anything to say, so I help her out instead. Once we’re done, I call up Nikki and she drives over. Her house is out here on the beach road too, so she’s here in less than five minutes. I give the office a quick glance, and then head out to meet my friend.

  Nikki drives a beat up Ford Taurus given to her when her parents decided to get a new family car. It’s beige, and dented, and dusty, but hey, at least she’s got a pair of wheels. I climb into the passenger side, slamming the door hard so that it actually closes. There’s been more than a few times where she’ll start driving and it flies open.

  “So how was your birthday? I’m sorry I had to bail,” I say, giving her a hug.

  “Don’t worry about it. I heard what Ken was doing. I’d have left too,” Nikki says. She carefully maneuvers past the guests’ cars and we head into town. I take the time to look at my friend. College has definitely changed her a bit. She’s wearing way more eyeliner, and her hair is streaked with pink, something I couldn’t see in the dark.

  “You look different,” I comment.

  “Sure do. What do you think of the pink?”

  “It’s cooler than brown, that’s for sure. I guess we won’t be called the triplets anymore.”

  “No,” she says, giving me a smile. “But we’ll still be best friends.”

  Montrose is only made up of three big streets and the six that cross them, so it doesn’t take long for us to get to the nail salon. I’m dying to tell her all about James, but I can’t risk someone overhearing our talk and telling my parents, so it’s not until afterwards, when we grab some coffee that I have the time to tell her. We pick a table in the corner of the cafe that’s nice and private.

  “I did it,” I blurt out to her, as soon as we sit down.

  “You did what?” she asks curiously. Her look of confusion morphs into shock and she clutches my arm. “You mean? Wait, you did?! Who?”

  I pause for a second, deciding whether I really should tell her or not. I’ve never held secrets from Nikki or Macy before though, and I’m not about to start.

  “James,” I say softly.

  She frowns, mentally scrolling through our list of friends. I pull out my phone and open Facebook, click on James’ profile, and push the phone across the table. She picks it up, and her mouth drops open.

  “Your dad’s best friend? No way,” she says in awe. “Ava, that’s awesome! That’s like, something Macy would do.”

  I can’t believe how impressed she sounds.

  “You don’t think it’s weird at all?” I ask.

  “It certainly sounds rather forbidden, but the man is a sex god Ava. I mean yeah, he’s way old, but so is Johnny Depp, and I wouldn’t hesitate to jump into bed with him either. Now tell me all about it!”

  So that’s exactly what I do. Nikki is totally the perfect person to talk to about this. She’s always been the most free-spirited when it comes to this sort of thing.

  “You don’t think this was a bad idea?” I ask again, just to be sure.

  “No. Girl, you need to have some fun,” she says, sipping on her coffee. “I think it’s great. He’s going to leave in… three weeks? That’s the perfect amount of time for a fling. And once he leaves, it’ll end naturally, and nobody will be the wiser for it.”

  She hits on the thing that I’ve been thinking about. My feelings for James, they run far deeper than just a fling. Amazing as the sex is, I want more than just that. And I definitely don’t want it to end when he leaves. I feel mixed up all over again. My phone lights up with a message and Nikki leans in.

  “It’s from James,” she says.

  I pick up the phone and open up the message.

  “He wants to see me tonight,” I say.

  “Well of course he would,” Nikki says matter-of-factly. “Any guy who sees you would want to. Are you going to respond back?”

  “Yeah,” I say, giving her a tiny smile. “I think so.”

  James

  We sneak around for a full two weeks. By now renovations are in full swing, and there’s so much commotion and chaos that it’s easy to find time here and there for Ava and I to meet. Between updating the plumbing, the electrical and the HVAC there’s plenty of work to keep her parents occupied too. But as fun as it is to take her on top of the washing machine, or in a taped off hallway, or hell, even underneath the checkin desk, I know that Ava deserves more than that.

  In fact, it’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about. And I finally reached a decision. I’m going to rent a place here in Montrose. There’s a few vacation cabins that are empty at this time of year. I can get one, and even if we can’t go on a date, then at least I can cook her a meal. We can spend more than ten minutes together, just talking and getting to know one another, without having to look over our shoulders. And if she wants this as much as I do, and I’ve never been more sure that I do, then there’ll be a place for her to stay if her parents get mad and kick her out. Because I know there’s a reckoning coming, even if we don’t talk about it.

  I open up my laptop and do a search on Google for properties in the area. It’s a scenic part of New England, and there’s bound to be a few companies in charge of renting out vacation cabins when the owners are away. And I’m right. I come across Atlantic Realty Management and I click their websi
te. In addition to vacation rentals, they specialize in selling cabins.

  “Now that’s an idea,” I say, pushing back from my laptop as I consider the listings.

  Ava has lived here for most of her life. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she would want to stay. Even though I live in Washington D.C., I don’t consider it home. I could move here permanently. There’s certainly no family to sway my decision. I don’t know how I’ll make it work, since my company is based in D.C. almost eight hours away, but I’ve got enough money set aside that I don’t have to think about it for a few years. My partners would be willing to buy me out, I’m certain.

  The more I think about it, the more I warm up to the idea. My business has made me rich, but it hasn’t made me happy, not the way Ava does. If she wants to stay here and work at the B and B, then that’s what we’ll do. In fact, I have a little idea about that I should explore more. I’ve known Ava for many years, and I know her well, maybe even better than she knows herself. Once I have all the details figured out, I’ll talk to Ava about it, but for now, I put out a few feelers. I’ve got plenty of contacts. Once that’s done, I get caught up on my emails, and then I call up the vacation management company.

  “Hello,” a pleasant voice says. “This is Atlantic Realty Management, how can I help you today?”

  “I’m looking for a place near Montrose to rent for a few weeks starting today. Is there anything you can recommend?”

  I hear the tap of keys for a few moments.

  “I’m sorry sir, unfortunately we don’t have any properties in Montrose right now. The only thing we could do is a cabin that you can rent until the end of the week, which isn’t what you’re looking for. Let’s see… The closest one is about a half hour drive, by Lake Renfrew. It’s got three bedrooms though, and a dock, firepit, even a little strip of beach on the property so you can have privacy. Perfect place for a family vacation.”

  I get up from my desk and pull the jacket off the back.