His Fake Fiancée: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me Book 1)

by Fiona Murphy

  Rebecca’s gasp is loud in the room.

  I press another line, Tim answers. “Escort Rebecca to the conference room until security comes to get her. Have them clear her desk of all personal items.”

  Turning my attention to her, “Who indicated she lied?”

  She is shaking her head, stunned.

  “Answer me.”

  She gives me the names of the hiring manager, the human resources receptionist, and one of my acquisitions managers. Tim enters; he gives her the respect of allowing her to exit before him.

  I punch my line into my head of human resources again. The woman’s voice is shaking with fear. I give her the names as well as Simon’s while I’m cleaning house. All of them are terminated without severance. I make it clear if there are people who have a problem with the hiring of minorities in my company, then those people should be purged before the end of the day.

  It is only as I take a deep breath, fighting my rising anger, that I realize I have only myself to blame. I never indicated I did not have a problem with my staff being more than ninety percent white. The makeup of staff never penetrated; I trusted the best people were being hired, regardless of the color of their skin. Today that would change.

  I begin writing a clear, concise email to that effect, stating it was an error on my part. It will be rectified going forward.

  My lack of knowledge to Rebecca’s leanings, shared by so many of my staff, disturbs me. Did they think I approved of this? How could they think so when I am a number of mixed ethnicities? My father was Roma and Jewish and my mother a mix of Turkish, Armenian, and Greek. None of those features are strong on me, yet I am not the typical pale Englishman despite my English accent.

  The same could be said of Christina, her skin glows as if she simply spent a day in the sun. If no one had said a word I would never have guessed her parentage. What did it matter her mother was black?

  I message Tim to come into my office once Rebecca is gone. Then I lean back as I consider the result of my actions. Between Connor’s family issues and Rebecca gone, I am now in severe deficit. A brief knock precedes Tim entering.

  Tim has been with me for seven years. After this long I had thought he did not fear me. At this moment, it would appear I am wrong.

  “Rebecca was terminated due to voicing racist statements. I was not aware of this. Is there anything I need to know?”

  Tim’s clear surprise as he shakes his head gives me a small measure of relief.

  “Good. Christina Connolly is coming to Jefferson City to enable me to observe her close up as a stand-in for Connor. Connor may need to take time away due to Sarah being ill. At this point, unless she screws up completely, Christina will be replacing Rebecca until I find a more permanent person. Once I do, she will fill Simon’s now vacated position. If you have a problem with this, I do not care. You will treat her with respect while you work with her.”

  His nod of agreement relieves me. I will not need to deal with resentment he felt toward Rebecca when she was hired. “Why not just keep her in Rebecca’s position?” Tim asks in confusion.

  Because I do not trust that I can keep my hands off her, even in the office. “I have my reasons. That is all. I want to know how the Cage merger is progressing.”

  “Your dinner date called. She needs to push back to eight.” Tim brings up his phone, ready to respond with my message.

  For the last week she has been a pleasant if unremarkable presence in my bed. “Cancel, do not reschedule. No more contact with her.”

  ***

  Ivan

  I am in the process of judging what acquisitions can wait and what cannot when my phone beeps. I keep an open line so I do not even look up as I answer. “What?”

  “I have Diego Valdez on line one,” Tim answers.

  “Put him through.” I pick up the phone. “That was fast.”

  “Well, when you give me someone as unremarkable as Ms. Christina Connolly, the job isn’t even a challenge. I’m emailing you on your private server now.”

  “Nothing interesting at all?”

  “Depends on the definition. I look at the security angle. In that way she isn’t interesting in the slightest. For a thirty-year-old woman it’s pretty damn interesting she has zero in the way of an online footprint. She’s on the major social networks but there is not a single post, all she does is follow people. The only thing we found any activity on was the website where you pin stuff. Not surprisingly for an artist, it’s mainly art and other artists.

  “She received a scholarship to the School of the Art Institute here in Chicago, where the consensus was she was talented and it was a shame she quit. We had to go offline—two sources, a next-door neighbor who is as nosy as we like them, and the professor of hers where she finished her degree in business. The guy who got her in with your company. It was clear there was more than a casual interest in her on the part of the professor. A once burned, twice shy young woman who doesn’t seem to be aware of her appeal in the slightest. She had a fiancé who broke things off when her grandmother got sick and she left school to take care of her.

  “Her mother died giving birth when she was only seventeen. Her father was from Ireland, came here for college. Her grandparents took them in. He died when she was four from a head injury.”

  Orphaned at such a young age, interesting. It is now understandable why she made it clear her grandfather was her first priority.

  “The grandparents and Christina’s mother came to America in the Mariel Boatlift in 1980. It’s the grandfather who is kind of interesting. He’s the son of a mob guy Santino Conti, Santino Junior is the result of his father hooking up with a performer in the casino he was running in Havana. When Castro kicked them out, Senior left without looking back. The grandfather got on with the local pipefitters union from a visit to his father when he landed but no further contact since. We’ve dug deep though and Santino Conti Junior is cleaner than a whistle.”

  Interesting, indeed.

  “The grandmother mainly worked in the local Catholic church translating for the charity. Grandmother was first diagnosed with breast cancer when Christina was only sixteen, they thought she beat it but it came back even worse when Christina was twenty-one. She quit school to take care of her grandmother until she died five years ago. Her grandfather was injured on the job, he lost a part of his leg from the knee down less than a year after his wife died.”

  As Diego is speaking, I bring up the electronic file he emailed which details everything he is saying. He was not exaggerating, there is not much.

  “Now she’s taking care of her grandfather. She eats, sleeps taking care of him. She doesn’t have any extracurriculars, not even the art she loves and from what I have seen is good at. Whatever you want her for, she won’t let you down.”

  “Excellent. Thank you. As always I appreciate your quick, thorough work.”

  “Anytime.”

  Setting down the phone, I go back from the beginning of the file, endeavoring to commit every word to memory. This coupled with her personnel file gives a clear picture of who Christina Connolly is. From the two files she is almost boring; they do not come close to capturing her in person.

  Once again, I consider not just her proposal from today but all of them over the years. Her mind is nimble; intelligent is not nearly a strong enough description. When she spoke, she did so with evocative eloquence. Even if I had not already been enamored with her, I would have had a hard time taking my eyes off her.

  There is a picture of her engagement announcement in the Tribune. She is smiling, her hand on the chest of a tall, thin man. I check the date of the announcement, she left school four months later. The ring on her hand is tiny. Sonofabitch. I run the guy’s name. I thought he looked familiar. His family has money, a lot of it, yet her ring was barely a chip.

  Three seconds after I laid eyes on her, I was checking her ring finger. Relief and satisfaction came quickly. Those who do not appreciate what they have are destined to lose it. He wa
s a git; better she figured it out before she married him.

  At the end of the file I find the login information for the sole website she was on. Within seconds I am perusing it. It might be the only site she is on, it is more than enough to finally get a complete picture of Christina Connolly.

  ***

  Christina

  I’m barely settled at my desk before the phone is ringing. It’s Simon. I ignore it. Once it stops only seconds pass before it rings again. It’s him. I send it to voice mail.

  I don’t even hear the door to my office open before Anna is in front of me. “You’re traveling with Ivan. You’re traveling with the big bad boss. Holy mother fucking crap. I told you so!”

  “I know, I can’t believe it. Even though Ivan has picked a bunch of my proposals I wrote for Simon, Simon never traveled with him.”

  “Martin has all of twice. He is seething. The bastard is convinced it’s only because Ivan wants to fuck you.”

  My eyes go wide; it clicks now. Oh my god, he wants to fuck me. That’s what the weird tension was all about.

  A smack on my arm yanks me out of my thoughts. “Ignore him, he’s a bitter bitch. It’s such bullshit, the only reason a woman could ever go far is because someone wants to fuck her, not because she’s worked for it.”

  “Close the door,” I urge her. I have the oddest feeling someone is outside in the hallway even though I can’t see anyone.

  Once she does she’s back, sitting on my desk.

  “He figured out I’m the one who wrote Simon’s proposals.”

  “Told you so. Do you get Simon’s job now? That would be the best thing ever.”

  “I have no idea. He didn’t say. I’m a horrible person for hoping he fires Simon, right?” I sigh.

  “Whatever, you’re a human being. Simon deserves it. He’s been a complete fucker to you for far too long. There’s this thing called karma and it’s pronounced ‘haha, fuck you.’”

  We both laugh.

  We’re planning what I should pack when there’s a knock on the door. We trade glances. “Come in.”

  It’s Denise, the head of human resources with a security guy. Fear shoots through me. “Christina, if you could help me clear out Simon’s office. I would appreciate it. Do you have his passwords?”

  Anna melts away. I nod then lead the way into Simon’s office on shaky legs.

  ***

  Christina

  Once the door is closed behind Denise and the security guy, I collapse into my chair in a shocked stupor. It was one thing to hope, wish, and pray Simon got fired; it was something else entirely to be the cause. No, don’t feel guilty. It was Simon’s fault, not mine. Ivan was simply rectifying a long overdue wrong. It didn’t have anything to do with the whole he-wants-to-fuck-me thing...right?

  It’s hard to believe. If Anna hadn’t repeated Martin’s thoughts, I would never have thought it myself. Ivan wants me. A shiver shoots through me, my nipples tighten in aching need. And I want him. I want him so freaking bad I don’t recognize myself.

  This doesn’t make any sense. Two years, two years and four months I was with Brandon. Although we didn’t make love for the first year. For too long I heard my Abuelo’s command of no sex until marriage. Not until a man valued me enough to give me a ring. While I wanted to honor Abuelo’s command, I also never experienced a single time when sex appealed to me.

  Abuela stepped in and told me I needed to know if we were compatible enough to make a marriage. If I loved him and believed he loved me, then there was no sin in making love. With Brandon making it clear marriage was where we were heading, I gave in to his wishes with a clear conscious, courtesy of Abuela.

  At first it was awful, full of pain, discomfort, and embarrassment. Gradually, after the fourth or fifth time it was...pleasant, nice to have a deeper level of connection. Yet in all that time, not once did I ever feel this way about him. I believed I loved him deeply. When he proposed it was my every wish come true. When he broke up with me, the idea of letting another man touch me made my skin crawl.

  Now I’m sitting here desperately wanting to have Ivan’s hands all over me and inside me and...what in the fuck is going on right now?

  My cell phone goes off with a text. It’s Anna telling me to meet her in the bathroom. Huh? Why didn’t she come talk to me or even text me? I set the phones to the voice mail, then leave the office in time to see her enter the bathroom. The sound of Martin yelling though the door to his office stops me in my tracks. What’s that about?

  I enter the bathroom expecting to see Anna at the faucets. It’s a six-toilet-stall-large room with all the necessary women’s products. The minute I’m in she pushes me away from the door then leans against it.

  “Holy shit! You will never believe what I just found out.”

  She gives me no time to even guess.

  “Ivan fired Rebecca, the hiring manager, snotty Bea the receptionist, and Dan.” She pauses. “Because of you.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “Rebecca said something obnoxiously racist about you.”

  “What did she say?”

  “How you hid you were black.”

  I sag against the wall. Dan had been the person who accused me of lying about being black when he saw the picture of my grandparents on my desk. All of them, he fired all of them. “I can’t believe it was because of me.”

  “The lone person besides payroll left in human resources swears it is. Ivan also said if there is anyone in the company who has a problem with minorities working here, then to leave now. What makes me want to kiss him, though, is he admitted it was on him for not ensuring more minorities were hired, then sent a plan to correct it. That’s a person I can respect.” A tug on my arm. “Christina, what’s the matter?”

  I’m dying to tell her about the crazy thing between me and Ivan. There’s also a part of me that thinks if I don’t talk about it, don’t put it into words, it will go away. I want to tell her, to ask her what I should do, only I don’t dare. What if I'm wrong? I have to be; this has to be all me.

  The guy is gorgeous, stunning. He's used to dating models, practically an entire catalog’s worth of lingerie models. What the hell would he want with me, short, fat, dumpy me? God, if I told Anna she’d laugh until she passed out. I tell half the truth. “I feel guilty.”

  “Whatever, you didn’t fire them. It was their own fault for being racist assholes. Forget about them. Martin has Simon calling him and he is losing his shit. He’s blaming you, not, oh, I don’t know, not actually being able to do his job.”

  “Is that what Martin was yelling about on the phone? I could hear him through the door.”

  “Yeah, Simon is mad at Martin too. Some shit about how Martin should have stopped you. Martin hung up on him once already. He’s the idiot for answering again. Anyway, I’d better get back to my desk. Give me a minute for me to get back to my desk before you go back. Lunch today at one.”

  “See you downstairs.”

  There is a café downstairs for the building. They don’t love it when you take your own food to eat but they don’t actually tell you to leave, so we go there instead of the break room to avoid the bitchy cliques in the office.

  Back at my desk I can’t stop thinking about Ivan firing all those people because of me. Was it, though? A good person would have done the same thing if it were any employee, not just someone they wanted to have sex with. Right?

  An email comes through. It’s from Simon. I don’t even hesitate to delete it unread. This isn’t my fault, it’s his. I’m done giving him even ten seconds of my energy. Another email is waiting for me. It’s from Tim, detailing our itinerary for the next two days. The two days are filled almost entirely with me at Ivan’s side, close enough to touch.

  I think I might be in trouble, a whole lot of trouble.

  ***

  Ivan

  My cell goes off. I realize how long I have been looking through Christina’s account. Damn it, you are supposed to starve a fever, not
feed it. I answer and close out of the website for once, grateful for Hannah’s call.

  “What do you want, Hannah?”

  “God, you are such an arse. Can you never once say hello? Hi, Hannah, how are you doing today? How’s the weather? Did you have a good week? I swear, I have absolutely no idea why I put up with your shit.”

  I do not bother replying as I check my email. She puts up with my shit because anytime she calls and asks for money she gets it. We both know this, so I do bring it up as I have the last five times she asked the rhetorical question.

  A heavy sigh. “Please, can you please talk to Gemma? She’s as the Americans say, on the fucking ledge.”

  “Is that not what her fiancé is for?” I mutter as I respond to a particularly important email.

  “Not when it’s about her fiancé, or rather how she’s worried about all this affecting her fiancé.”

  “All of what, Hannah? What are you talking about?”

  “Aari’s mum, she hates Gemma and told her so. Gemma is inconsolable. Aari says it’s no big deal. He loves her, he doesn’t care if his mum does or not. Gemma is wondering if she should call the whole thing off. She’ll listen to you, please talk to her.”

  “I cannot remember the last time she listened to me,” I correct her as I shoot Aari an email asking what the fuck is going on. Thankfully he is as connected as I am, his response is quick. Before I can answer him back, he follows up with a plea for me to talk to Gemma as well. Rolling my eyes, I assure him I will if for no other reason than to get some peace and quiet.

  “Ivan, please,” Hannah pleads.

  “I will call her now.”

  “Thank you, love you. Chat later.” She ends the call in a rush.

  I take the time to respond to a few of my most pressing emails, then give in and call Gemma.

  “Ivan?” she answers, with a sniffle.

  Swallowing a sigh, I close out of my work to focus on Gemma. “Hannah says you want to call it off. If you want to, the time to do it is now. If money is what you are worried about I will handle it.”

  A sob grates in my ear. “No, I’m not worried about the money. I’m not you, Ivan. I don’t care about the money. What I care about is Aari and what all of this means to him. He says it’s no big deal. If she won’t respect my becoming his wife, then she won’t be in our lives. He loves his mum. How can it not be a big deal when she hates me?”