Faking It (Single Dad Fake Marriage Box Set#1-5)

by J. J. Bella

  "I've rented out The Gray Room for the night. Drinks on me."

  Emmanuelle's slim, red eyebrows raised.

  "Wow," she said. "Pulling out all of the stops."

  "You guys did a great job, and I want to make sure you have a nice night out to celebrate."

  "Well," said Emmanuelle, "I'll be looking forward to it."

  She shot one more gimlet-eyed glance at Mia before joining the rest of the crew in hugs and congratulations.

  "That's one person I won't miss working with," said Mia. "One of those bitchy girls who sees every other woman as competition."

  "Best get used to it," I said. "She's pretty par for the course when it comes to stars."

  Didn't I know it.

  Mia and I spent a little more time on set, helping a little with breaking things down. I made my usual effort to personally thank every member of the crew. Plenty of them were men and women who I'd worked with before, and I knew the importance of making sure they knew how good of a job they did. Skilled crew was hard to come by, after all.

  Once Mia and I finished our rounds, we headed out and let the crew finish up. She and I had a celebratory late lunch, and made a little stop-off on the way back to the apartment to pick out something nice for Mia to wear. As she tried on different dresses, looking just sexy as hell in each one of them, I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen between us. After all, the only reason our lives were as tied together as they were was because of this little arrangement, and that was over. Soon, she'd be back at Bronzeplate, back at her old job, back at her old apartment. Sure, I could try poaching her from Simon Whittaker, but then what? Have her move back in as my permanent assistant?

  No- there was something deeper that was moving all of this, and I needed to address it. Part of me wanted her back, but another part of me was sure that she wouldn't have any of it, that she felt that I was just the same reckless man who'd simply break her heart again.

  I decided to shelve this issue for one more day. After all, when Mia came out of the dressing room at the boutique on Fifth Avenue, looking beautiful as ever in her skin-tight party dress, I knew that for at least tonight I'd try to live in the moment.

  "That's the one," I said.

  A beaming smile broke out across her face, and I knew she concurred.

  We headed back to the apartment and celebrated with a glass of champagne, reveling in a job well-done as we looked over the city. Olivia came out to join us, a cheering us with a glass of sparkling grape juice. Soon, we sent her off to a friend who lived in the building, and it was time to go.

  "Ready for this?" I asked, finishing my glass of champagne.

  "Let's do it," she said.

  We headed own to the street, where a limo awaited us. Another glass of wine on the way over later and we were there at The Gray Room. The driver let us out, and we walked like king and queen into that place. The party was thumping as we entered. It was packed with crew and their friends, the low-lit, spacious rooms of the club filled with people. Just as the name suggested, gray was the dominant color at the place, the walls tracked with azure neon lights. There was a large dance floor with a DJ booth above it all, and several smaller rooms allowed for quiet. And up above was a rooftop bar with a wonderful view of Manhattan over the East River.

  Mia and I made our way through the place, shaking hands here and there. I was used to being the center of attention, but Mia was surprised to find that the industry reporters who were there wanted to know just who this young woman was who'd played such a large role on set. Evidently, Michael was eager to make known just how much help he had.

  "What do I say?" asked Mia, speaking over the music, the latest blogger who'd been interviewing us sent off.

  "Just tell them you're happy to help, and that it was a team effort. I mean, it's the truth."

  "Makes sense," said Mia, taking a drink off a passing server's tray.

  "Trust me," I said. "You want to give them as little as possible. Be boring. They're out for a scoop and aren't afraid to take whatever scraps you give them and turn them into some dramatic tale."

  "I'll keep that in mind," she said.

  "You should. You're in a new world now," I said. "You're going to have to learn to deal with these people."

  Her eyes went wide when she realized the truth to what I said. Now that she'd had this production under her belt, her career was set to go up and up. I could easily picture her running her own company in less than a decade. Hell, we might even be competition someday.

  "You've got a knack for this," I said. "You're going to go far. But for now, just have fun."

  She smiled at this, and I pulled her onto the dance floor. I wasn't normally much of a dancer, but something about being with Mia brought it out of me. We danced close, our bodies pressed right against one another's. And as I lost myself in the music, I began to wonder if this is what I wanted, if trying to start something again with Mia was where I saw my life going.

  And right there on the dance floor, I realized that the answer was yes.

  We took a break from dancing, and I knew that I needed to tell her tonight what I'd just realized, that I wanted to be together once again. But as soon as we stepped off the dance floor, a small mob of journalists swarmed over us.

  "Go get some fresh air," said Mia with a smile. "Like you said, I need practice dealing with these goons."

  Fresh air did sound nice, and she, like with everything else she tried, seemed to be handling the journalists with her typical aplomb. Refreshing my drink, I ducked through the crowds and made my way to the roof, finding a quiet corner hidden from the crowds. Looking out onto the city, the sun casting the sky in a deep red blaze beyond the imperious and imposing skyline, I took a deep breath, letting myself calm and the decision I made to sink in. Excitement gripped me, the kind I hadn't felt in a long while. I found myself looking forward to my life with Mia. Still, the question remained of whether or not she'd accept my offer.

  However, my pleasant time alone wasn't to last. As I took a sip from my drink, the buzz taking hold, a sensual voice slithered through the air.

  "Quite the view, no?"

  I didn't even need to turn to know who it was. Sure enough, my eyes still fixed straight ahead, Emmanuelle moved to my side and leaned against the balcony. I glanced around, noting that though I could hear the chatter of the people at the bar on the other side of the roof, where we stood no one could see us.

  "It is," I said.

  My tone was brusque, and I wanted to make it as clear as possible that I wasn't interested.

  "I can think of a nicer view," she said, turning to me and looking me up and down with those narrow, emerald eyes.

  "Listen," I said, taking a breath. "I realize that you may have gotten a…particular impression from the way you and I interacted during the shooting, but…"

  "Oh," she said. "I got more than an ‘impression'."

  She moved closer to me, placing her hand on my arm. Emmanuelle was close enough that I could feel the heat from her body, smell the scent of her perfume. I wanted to resist, but she was making it…quite difficult.

  "I know you liked what I had to show you," she said, her voice as smooth as silk as she moved her hand down my arm, her fingers dancing over my hand. "What is it, that mousey little assistant you've been running around with? Please. I can do things for you that she couldn't think of in her wildest fantasies…if she even has fantasies."

  I knew I needed to pull away, to get myself as far away from her as possible. But something, some animal part of me, kept me planted down right where I was.

  "No…" I said, placing my hand on hers. "This isn't a good idea."

  "Oh, that's where you're wrong," she said, taking my touch as permission to move even closer. "I think it's a very good idea. Come here- let me show you just how good."

  Emmanuelle turned me towards her, and I looked down at her stunning features. She ran her tongue over her full, red lips, her eyes narrowed in sensual hunger.

&n
bsp; For a moment, I felt like I just might give in. But right at that moment, my desire for Mia was all I could think about. Emmanuelle, and the many like her, were enticing, but what I had with Mia was something else, something more real. And it was worth more than anything Emmanuelle could offer.

  That didn't stop her from grabbing the lapels of my suit jacket and pulling me in for a deep, full kiss, however. I tried my best to fight it off, but for a few brief moments I succumbed to Emmanuelle, falling into her kiss. But I was soon able to pull away.

  "There you are," said a familiar voice.

  It was Mia.

  I turned and sure enough, there she was. Mia stood at the entry to the private space where Emmanuelle and I stood, a look of both shock and pain on her face.

  "I…um, guess you're busy."

  "Listen," I said, stepping away from Emmanuelle and towards Mia, "I don't want this. You walked in at exactly the wrong moment."

  "You're sure right about that," said Mia, stepping backward away from me.

  "Oh, please," Emmanuelle. "I could tell that what I was giving you was exactly what you wanted."

  That seemed to be all Mia could take. Her face red, her eyes heavy with tears, she turned and ran.

  "Now that the little imp's gone," said Emmanuelle, moving back to my side and placing her hand on my shoulder, "let's get back to it."

  I grasped her hand firmly and took it off my shoulder, my eyes narrowed into slivers.

  "Never again," I said.

  With that, I took off.

  "Oh, you're no fun," said Emmanuelle as I started off across the roof, trying to catch up with Mia.

  I couldn't care less at that moment about anything Emmanuelle had to say. As I weaved through the crowd, all I could think about was how badly I'd screwed up, and how I'd potentially thrown away the one girl who I'd ever really loved.

  I caught up with Mia on the other side of the roof. She was standing alone, the city behind her.

  "Mia," I said, walking towards her with hesitant steps.

  "I can't believe I thought you'd changed," she said, turning her head just enough to where I could see the tears running down her cheek. "You had a new job, a new life. Fuck, you even have a daughter."

  I stood still as she spoke, knowing that there was nothing I could say in my defense.

  "And these last few weeks…I don't know how, but I found myself falling for you again," she said, wiping away a stray tear as she turned to face me. "I thought that this time, things might just be different. Shows how goddamn stupid I was."

  "Mia," I said. "It…"

  "It what, it wasn't what it looked like? Spare me," she said, her voice a hiss. "That girl had her tongue shoved down your throat and you looked pretty OK with it from where I was standing. So don't try to insult me by suggesting that I didn't see what I damn well know I saw."

  Again, she was right.

  "I…don't know what to say."

  And it was true. For all the negotiating I'd done in my business life, I couldn't find a single word to say in my defense.

  "You don't need to say a damn thing," she said. "Your behavior did all the talking for you."

  And with that, she stormed off, leaving me alone on the roof, standing there lost, the sun having long set, the night now surrounding me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next few weeks passed, and I was back at Bronzeplate. Thankfully, Simon was out of the country on some kind of business, so the issue with him could be put aside for the time being. I knew that him being gone was just delaying the inevitable, but at least it meant that I only had one issue to deal with.

  Try as I might, I couldn't stop thinking about Liam. The image of him and Emmanuelle was burned into my mind, and I knew that I'd never be able to see the city skyline at sunset without thinking about him kissing her. Thinking about her filled me with some strange combination of rage and despair, but I knew, deep down, that the fault lay squarely on me for thinking that Liam could've changed. At least he had the decency to not lie to my face when I caught him red-handed…or red-lipped.

  Sitting in my cramped cubicle at Bronzeplate offices, I scrolled through my inbox, settling on the email I'd received from Simon about a week ago. He let me know in his usual vague obfuscation that he was getting back into town soon, and that he hoped that I'd come to a decision about the "terms" we'd discussed. I felt sick to my stomach thinking about it. Not only had I lost what I thought might be a real love, the only other "man in my life" was a sleazy producer who wanted me to betray Liam and do God-knows-what.

  "How you holding up, lady?" asked Sophia, peering into my cubicle over the wall.

  "Been way better," I said, barely summoning up the energy to talk.

  "I know it's been rough," she said, walking into my cubicle, "but at least it's all behind you now. I mean, sure, things with Liam didn't work out, but at least you have a whole freakin' movie under your belt!"

  She put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a little jostle.

  "That's so awesome!" she said. "I mean, if this movie does well then your career is, like, set."

  That was only small consolation. After everything that I'd been through over the last few months, my career just didn't seem that important. All I could think about was Liam and Olivia. I knew it was foolish, but I couldn't help it.

  "Yeah, set as long as I do…whatever Simon wants."

  I could barely form the words. The idea of sleeping with him made me sick to my stomach.

  "It's…not that bad," she said, her voice low. "I mean, he just flops around on top of you for a few minutes, then that's it. Then it's behind you!"

  "That doesn't make me feel any better," I said. "It's disgusting."

  "I know, but what else can we do? Guys like him have all the power, and if we want to move up, then we have to play by their rules."

  "Liam wasn't like that, though," I said, remembering the easy manner he had with his staff.

  I couldn't help but feel that Sophia's insistence that sleeping with disgusting middle-aged men was just "part of the business" was something like giving up.

  "It doesn't have to be that way, though," I said.

  Sophia flashed me a quizzical look.

  "What, you want to find the other biggest production company in the city?"

  "No," I said. "When I worked with Liam, he gave me the opportunity to find what I was good at. And not because he paid special attention to me; he just gave the staff their roles, and if they showed talent at something else, or seemed to be performing at a higher level, he'd give them the chance to rise in the company. And it wasn't just like that with me; he did this with everyone he worked with."

  "Well, that's great for Liam and his wonderful, amazing company, but we're stuck here. And if we want to move up, then we gotta play by the rules."

  "But…what if we didn't have to?" I said.

  I don't know where this was all coming from. Normally, I was the type to just go with the flow. But now, after all that I'd been through with Liam, I was feeling a boldness that I'd never known.

  "I don't get what you mean," said Sophia.

  "What if…I mean, what if we had our own company?"

  Sophia let out a sharp laugh.

  "Sorry," she said, composing herself. "Did you just say what I thought you said?"

  "I know it sounds crazy," I said, "but think about it. We could have our own company and run it how we want, without men like Simon treating us like his own personal harem."

  "Well," said Sophia, "it's a nice dream, but in the meantime, I'll be back here in the real world."

  "It's just…we can't keep doing this forever, right? You and I can't be the only girls who Simon's treated like this."

  I stood up and watched the bustle of the office, watching the dozens of girls my age dart here and there. Fetching coffee, making copies, and answering calls. I wondering just how many of them had already fallen prey to the men who ran this place, and how many would be cast aside whenever they outlived their
"usefulness" to the men in charge.

  "I mean, you're right," said Sophia. "I've talked to a bunch of other girls and they've all dealt with the same crap. And it's not just Simon; just about every guy on the floor above get up to this shit."

  I could tell that my suggesting that there might be a better way to do things had worked its way into her mind. But she was right- other than dream, what could we do?

  Then, as if on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  "Yes?" I asked.

  It was one of the girls who worked upstairs.

  "Mr. Whittaker wants to see you," she said in her low, professional voice. "Please come to his office as soon as possible."

  "Oh," I said, a little surprised. "I thought he was out of town."

  "Just got back," came the reply. "And he wants to see you right away."

  My stomach sank. Part of me was convinced that he had some kind of way to listen in on the conversation, and that he was calling me up to give me the ax and blacklist me forever.

  "It's Simon," I said.

  The pained looked that crossed Sophia's face said it all.

  "Good luck," she said. "If it helps, he doesn't make moves in his office; he'll wine and dine you first."

  It helped, but only a little.

  Sophia gave me a quick hug, and I was off. Ten minutes later, I walked through the door of Mr. Whittaker's office, spotting him sitting behind his desk, his squat form reminding me of a well-dressed toad.

  "Come in, dear," he said, gesturing to one of the seats in front of him,

  I walked quickly to the seat and slid into it.

  "First of all," he said, weaving his fingers together on the dark brown surface of his desk, "I want to congratulate you for doing what I've heard was a bang-up job on the Thorne project. I was oh-so-pleased to read the email from Mr. Thorne letting me know that you proved nearly indispensible to the production."

  "T-thanks," I said, the word coming out in a nervous tumble.

  Mr. Whittaker sat back in his seat, that same lecherous grin that I'd grown all too familiar with spreading across his face.

  "Of course, you know that there are…other matters to discuss."