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

by Fiona Murphy

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave you the proposal for you to review when you have time.”

  Step by step she is backing away. I do not even realize I am following her until she is close enough for me to reach out and grasp the front of the dress she is wearing. Fisting the silk, I use it to pull her to me. “I do not want to talk.”

  Her tongue slides out to trace her bottom lip. “We don’t have to talk. I’m okay with not talking. But if you kiss me only to push me away again, I can’t guarantee I won’t get violent.”

  I cannot contain my amusement at her threat. There is no doubt in my mind she will follow through with her warning. A beep, then Tim’s voice comes through my phone asking if I am available for Denise. I let her go.

  “Close the door on your way out. Once I am done with Denise, hold my calls and no interruptions until I say otherwise. I need some time with a problem.” Back at my desk, I tell Tim to put Denise through.

  “I have three more candidates today. I’m sure one of them is the one.”

  “Bring the files up, leave them with Tim. I will review them later. Right now, I am busy.”

  She stutters as I end the call. I am not in the mood to deal with her or what is becoming an endless search for my new assistant. Tension is building again at the base of my neck, another headache is impending. For the last two weeks they have hit me nearly every other day.

  This Christina problem is getting to me. My sleep is shit, and my temper is fraying at the slightest thing. I give in this time to take the over-the-counter pain medication, it is too early in the day to try and work through it. As I do Christina’s file from Valdez slides into sight beside the bottle.

  Valdez had followed the electronic file with a hard copy the next day. I had stashed it in my desk, proud of not opening it. All over again I wonder what it is about her that has turned me into someone I do not recognize. Why her?

  Opening the file, I read through it slowly, wondering if the answer is here. As it had the first time I saw it, the picture of Christina with her ex-fiancé turns my stomach. From the smug smile on his face to the tiny chip of a diamond, he had not deserved the privilege of calling her his for even the two years he did. If it had been me, I would have put a ring on her finger the size of a boulder, something to warn all others she belonged to someone who knew her worth.

  Sonofabitch. I have the answer to the Mishka problem, to all my problems.

  ***

  Christina

  Neither Tim nor I want to bother Ivan, to remind him of his lunch appointment he needs to leave for in less than five minutes. Tim is supposed to go too as it’s a working lunch with Dmitri Markhoff.

  A discussion of a possible joint venture. Markhoff has lessened his workload in favor of spending time with his wife and kids. He isn’t as interested in doing deals that would require a lot of his attention. But he thinks the investment is too lucrative to pass up, so he’s trying to interest Ivan to go in, as long as Ivan does the heavy lifting.

  The door that is so rarely closed opens just as Tim tells me he’s sending the message to Ivan. “Tim, stay. Clear my schedule for the rest of the day. Christina, come.”

  Tim and I trade glances. Ivan not coming back into the office? I don’t argue, just grab my purse and a notepad. I’m relieved the tension in him has lessened. When I went into his office, fear gripped me for a hard minute to see him so obviously upset but doing his best to hide it.

  We have barely settled into the car when Ivan’s phone rings. He sighs heavily as he answers it. Before he even opens his mouth, I can hear Gemma yelling. I have talked to her and Hannah briefly, their affection for their brother clear. Right now, it’s obvious Gemma is freaking out.

  “There is nothing for you to be concerned about. I am handling it.”

  I’m doing my best to pretend like I’m not wondering what the hell he’s talking about.

  “Nothing will be ruined. Have I ever let you down before?”

  I can hear Gemma crying but not what she’s saying.

  “Enough, you are going to make yourself sick. Do not talk to Aari, he has not been able to rein his sister in thus far. To demand he do so now will only upset him. I told you, I will take care of it. This is not your concern. Worry about the cake and the flowers and allow me to worry about Mishka.”

  Who is Mishka?

  “I will not allow her to ruin a single hour over the next few weeks, let alone either of your wedding days.”

  Whoever she is, she’s pissed him off. I almost feel sorry for her.

  A soft sigh unlike anything I have ever heard comes out of him.

  “Gemma.”

  It’s a whisper.

  “Gemma—”

  Still just as soft. The crying stops, I hear her say his name.

  “I will never allow anyone or anything to hurt you as long as it is in my power.”

  Something twists deep inside me. I believe him, without a single doubt. He would shield her from anything, I can’t help but envy Gemma.

  “I already have a plan. Trust me. Do you trust me?”

  A pause as his head goes down.

  “I love you too. I will call you later.”

  Ripping my eyes off him is painful. He looks so different than he normally does, almost human as he runs a hand through his hair. Even when he had been in the plain shirt and sweatpants he could have walked out of a magazine. His hair always falls perfectly, those broad, wide shoulders back and straight, as if he were a conquering general. This is an Ivan I would never have thought existed, and I want him even more.

  “I apologize you had to hear that,” he rumbles as he tucks his phone into his pocket.

  I shake my head. “Don’t apologize. Your sister needed you. Did you want—”

  The car door opens. Lawrence is waiting with a curious expression on his face. I hadn’t even realized the car stopped.

  As we enter the restaurant Ivan’s hand brushes across my back, guiding me, and I jump at the electric shock it sends through me. I want to die when I see Ivan’s mouth twitch up with the smallest of smiles. Jerk.

  Dmitri Markhoff stands as we approach the table. Wow, he’s stunning. The whole tall, dark, and handsome thing in triplicate. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it and I fight not to swoon like a moron.

  His smile widens as he winks at me. Ivan growls something in Russian, so damn sexy even if it sends a flash of fear up my spine. I’m relieved it’s Dmitri he’s looking at as if he wants to tear him limb from limb. Dmitri responds in Russian, and with a gentle squeeze he drops my hand.

  His eyes are on me now. “How fortunate I am for you to join us. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever meet you. I have heard much about you from Ivan and Lydia. It would seem Ivan wanted you all to himself. Now I understand why.” He pulls out a chair beside him and motions for me to sit.

  Stop blushing, you idiot. He’s teasing Ivan, it was obvious. And it was working. Ivan’s hand goes around my arm like a vice and steers me into the chair beside him. A single word in Russian is bitten out at Dmitri; I don’t have to speak Russian to know it’s a bad word.

  Dmitri laughs. “English. Your lovely companion is confused. My apologies, Christina, I was simply remarking how lucky Ivan is to have such an intelligent assistant, but a beautiful one as well. It is rare.”

  “Thank you,” I murmur as I fight the blush rising all over again. The man is way hotter than he has a right to be. Now I can understand Lydia saying his wife was madly in love with him.

  “Continue flirting with my woman and I send you home to your wife with a busted lip,” Ivan responds coldly.

  My stomach drops at the same time my nipples harden at the “my woman” part. Um...what does that mean? I almost ask out loud but Ivan still looks scary. I’ll save the question for later.

  “Truce, my friend. I ordered you whiskey; drink.” Dmitri pushes the glass toward Ivan. I’m jealous, I could use a drink rig
ht about now.

  The waitress comes to take our order and just like that the tension disappears completely between the two men.

  Over the next two hours it isn’t easy to keep up with their rapid-fire discussion about the merits and issues with the project. My pen moves across the pad so fast my wrist is beginning to hurt.

  I’m relieved and disappointed as they draw the discussion to a close. Dmitri’s son, Maksim, has a doctor’s appointment he promised his wife he would be there for.

  “Is everything all right?” Ivan’s concern is clear.

  Dmitri nods. “He is fine. It is time to get his shots. Elise does not do well seeing the children in pain. She is as likely to end up in tears as Maksim. There is only one nurse in the practice allowed to give our children their shots—I had to prevent her from striking one nurse who did seem to stab more than simply pierce the skin.”

  I wince. “Poor baby.”

  “Yes, my wife is a tad emotional.”

  “So all Russian men come out hard and mean?” The question slips out.

  A nod. “You spend a few winters in Russia and you will develop a hard shell simply to stay alive. And while we might have come from Russia, were you not aware Ivan and I long ago lost our Russian citizenship? Many Russians are so proud of their country they would bristle with hostility to hear us referred to as Russians now. Me more than fifteen years ago. Ivan became an Englishman when you were— What was it, eight?” Ivan nods. “Political asylum seekers are often fast tracked, they used to be. Then American seven years ago.”

  “I didn’t know you became an American citizen.” I look to Ivan.

  He shrugs as he sips his water. “The tax rate of the United States is far lower than the United Kingdom. It was a business decision.”

  Dmitri stands. “I must be going. A pleasure to meet you, Christina. I look forward to seeing you again, soon.”

  He makes a move to take my hand. Ivan growls his name. Laughing, he nods at me instead as he walks away.

  10

  Christina

  Even though Dmitri is gone, Ivan is tense, the air around him vibrating with restless energy. I don’t dare look up from my pad as I doodle, wondering why we aren’t leaving too. I chance a glance around the large room; despite the still busy state of the restaurant in the front, here where there are more than twenty tables available, it’s just us. Tim said they both preferred this restaurant due to the staff’s willingness to keep this area clear for only them as long as they needed it.

  “I did not like the way you flirted with him. You were staring at him.” The words are growled at me.

  I feel his eyes on me but don’t meet them—I’m too embarrassed. “He was, is...I didn’t mean to. He’s very attractive. It’s kind of hard to ignore. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  A hand grips my chin, pulling up to meet his eyes. His touch is wreaking havoc with my breathing, and my body. “You think he is attractive?” The words drop like stones.

  I try to shake my head but his grip is too tight. Without thinking I grasp his wrist. It is so thick my hand barely gets halfway around it. The strength in it has me shaking. “Not like that. He isn’t—I...”

  “He is not what? Spit it out.”

  There is nowhere to hide. I squeeze my eyes shut. “He isn’t you,” I whisper with shame.

  Instantly he lets go of me. In agony I picture him with an expression of horror on his face. A fluttering fingertip traces over my cheek. I open my eyes, I tremble at the hunger I see in not just his eyes, in his entire body. A heady lethargy overcomes me as my blood has been replaced with hot, sticky, thick honey. His thumb traces over my bottom lip, and the simple touch is agony.

  “I need you to be my woman. To wear my ring.”

  What? Shock doesn’t cover the bomb he drops on me. His head lowers to within inches of me. Ivan inhales my shaky breath.

  “For Gemma. Her soon to be sister-in-law is determined to trap me into a marriage while I am there for the wedding celebrations. She will back down if I am already engaged. Come with me to Manchester, not as my PA, as my fiancée.”

  I freeze as my fumbling brain comprehends what he is saying, what he means. Why do I want to cry so badly? His lips slide over my cheek, causing a shiver throughout my whole body.

  “For the next few weeks, be mine in every way. I will not lie. I am a greedy bastard. I will demand full ownership of you. Every inch of you is mine, however and whenever I want you. You will deny me nothing.”

  I’m a freak. I shiver in anticipation at his words; nothing has ever sounded so fucking appealing.

  “Do not worry, poppet, you will not want to deny me. Pleasure is only the ultimate in its height when it is reciprocated. When I look at you, Christ I only need to think of you and I am hard for you. I know, you witch, I know you have been taunting me with your body. The skirts, the tight dresses, and it worked. Hell, you never needed it. I was already lusting for you hourly, dreaming of you every night and what I would do to you when I finally had you. What I am going to do to you,” he whispers in my ear.

  Holy freaking crap, I’m so damn wet at the promise of his words. This low, the rumbling of his voice is incredibly erotic. I also want to smack him for what he is saying. To be his but not truly, it will be a fake engagement, a farce to protect him from a grasping brat who wants him at all costs. A hand grips me by the back of the neck as his tongue tastes the shell of my ear. Thank god he’s holding me up because I’m trembling so badly, I can barely stand it.

  “Once our time comes to an end, it will be easier for you to remain within my company. As the wronged woman, all the disdain will be on me. No one can know the truth, though. This is just between you and me.”

  A slight nip of the soft part of my ear, then he sucks lightly. The motion goes straight to my aching nipples.

  “Say yes, say you will marry me.”

  How could the words hurt so badly? They shake me from the haze he’s sent me into. “I hate you.”

  The words are squeezed out of my throat as I fight back tears. I try to push him away, my hands flat on his hard, muscled chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Find someone else.” I sob as fat ugly tears fall, still trying desperately to push him away.

  “I do not want anyone else. I only want you.” He groans as his hand tightens around my neck and his mouth comes down on mine.

  Even as my mind is screaming no, my body betrays me. I cling to him, falling headlong into his kiss. Yes, god yes, I have missed him, missed this. More, I need more, to climb into his skin and melt with him. I almost cry when he pulls back.

  “Say yes, Christina.”

  I close my eyes, unwilling to let him see how badly I want to. Then his hand is under the table, sliding under my skirt. I gasp to feel him cup the hottest, wettest part of me. Oh my god.

  “Say yes, Christina, so I can take you home and fuck you the way we both have been hungry for. So very wet, the scent of your pussy has been fucking with my head for weeks. I cannot wait to taste you, to feel your juices coat my face as you come.”

  Dirty, so dirty. I bring a hand up to cover his mouth. Ivan laughs, pressing a kiss against my palm.

  “Shy? No, not for me. You’ll scream and beg for me to eat your pussy. For hours, I will savor your pussy, not allowing you to come until your body aches with the force of your trembling, only then will I fuck you. My cock is dying to be inside you.”

  A finger trails along the soaking wet front of my panties. I choke at what he is doing to me. I grasp his jacket to keep from sliding out of my chair.

  Holy fucking shit, we’re still in the restaurant. I try to close my legs. I can’t believe he’s doing this to me here, in public.

  “Ivan.” I choke on the word. But the bastard is cruel—he ignores me and tugs my panties to the side.

  “Interesting, bare. Hmm...all the better to see you and eat you.”

  He brings his finger glistening with me to his mouth, and all I can do is watch in fascination as he sucks
deep.

  “I knew you would be delicious.”

  I blink and he’s pulled out the clip holding my hair up again. The hand slips from my neck to go into my hair. His grip is punishing as he frowns down at me.

  “You are trying my patience. Why are you not saying yes to what we both want?”

  Finding my voice isn’t easy. “I don’t like lying. Not to strangers, not to Abuelo. When it ends...” I try to look away but he won’t let me. “I don’t know that I can stay working with you. Seeing you and not...” I swallow against the tears. “I can’t.”

  I watch his jaw work.

  “Five hundred thousand dollars.”

  What?

  “I will pay you five hundred thousand dollars for the pretense. I do not want you to leave my company when it ends. We could try you working out of the office, simply sending prospects through email or something. However, I will not argue if you need to leave. The five hundred is yours whether you stay or go, but it is in case you leave and it takes you time to find something else. You will be able to take your time and only accept work you truly want to do.”

  Slapping him won’t solve anything. “It isn’t about the money. I don’t want money.” I swallow the words. All I want is you.

  His phone rings, it’s Tim’s ringtone. Grabbing his phone from inside his jacket, he loosens his hold on me. I push him away and flee into the restroom. From far away I hear Ivan call my name, but I ignore him.

  Slamming into the stall, I fumble with the lock and let my forehead fall against the cool metal. My skin is still so hot it’s a shock, a welcome one to combat the chaos inside me. This isn’t a dream. How is this real?

  Ivan wants me to pretend, pretend he asked me to marry him, to pretend I said yes, and that I believe...closing my eyes, I hate the longing welling up inside me, so intense I can’t breathe from it. Longing to belong to Ivan, the way he demanded. Oh god, even now the way he said, to be owned, to belong to him.