The Boss's Fake Fiancee

by Inara Scott

  “The end of the month.” Melissa paused and pursed her lips, as if consulting some mental calendar. “And today’s October 11. So in three weeks we just break it off? How would I explain it to my friends, my family…?” She spread her hands in bewilderment.

  “You’ll have to figure that out,” he said tightly. “You made this mess, Melissa, and now you’re going to fix it.”

  “I said I was sorry!”

  “Great. You’re sorry.” He nodded in acceptance. “Consider this one big apology.” He pulled open the door of her office, hoping like hell that he had correctly interpreted her look of defeat. “Now, cancel any appointments you have for the rest of the day and meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes. We’re going to get a ring.”

  Chapter Four

  Over the next fifteen minutes, Melissa ignored ten more phone calls, canceled four meetings, sent quick text messages to her mother and brothers Ross and Joe, and then turned off her cell phone so she didn’t have to see their responses. With a mountain of email still staring at her, she shut down her computer and slipped on her cherry-red trench coat. The deliberately cheerful garment had little impact on her bleak, overwhelmed mood. She met Garth in the Solen Labs reception area, and then followed him to the parking garage located under the building.

  “What did you tell your family?” Garth asked

  “I said things were moving fast and I’d call later tonight.” Was she really doing this? It all felt so impossibly unreal. She wasn’t even sure she had a real choice in the matter. She was acutely aware that Garth held all the cards in their relationship, and if he wanted to force her to participate in this game, he could.

  “Our arrangement will have to be kept a secret. From everyone.”

  Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “I’m not going to lie to my parents.”

  “Then don’t talk to them at all. But I won’t have you telling them the truth. The more people that know, the more chance of something going wrong.”

  “Like what?” she cried. “What else could possibly go wrong?”

  “How about an even bigger headline?” he said. “Like ‘Garth Solen’s Fake Fiancée.’ Forgive me if I’d rather not see that on the front page of the New York Star Herald. Nan isn’t the only one who would freak out, you know. I’ve got Natalie Orelian to worry about, too.”

  “The ThinkSpeak investor? Why are you worried about her?”

  “The woman is obsessed with protecting her family name. If she hears a hint of scandal—about the product or about Solen Labs—she’ll disappear. I know she will. But once I get her to sign the investment agreement, it doesn’t matter.”

  Melissa paused. Only Garth Solen could make an utterly ridiculous plan sound logical and rational. “We’ve only known each other for three months,” she said. “No one will believe we’re really engaged.”

  “You were just telling me how believable it is,” he pointed out.

  “I’m terrible at lying,” she warned.

  He surveyed her with an impassive gaze. “Right.”

  Melissa’s mouth dropped open. “Now that’s uncalled for!”

  “Uncalled for?” He frowned. “First of all, I didn’t even say anything—”

  “I can tell what you’re thinking,” she interrupted.

  “Second of all,” Garth continued, “I’m not the one who made up a story about us dating and spread it to her vindictive ex-boyfriend!”

  “Yes, and we’ve established that was dumb,” she grumbled. “That doesn’t give you the right to be mean.”

  “I’m being mean?” He gestured in frustration. “How in the world did this become my fault?”

  “What about afterward?” she pressed. “Three weeks from now, you dump me and fire me? Oddly enough, that doesn’t sound too appealing.”

  Garth made a sound, low and garbled, in the back of his throat. “So you can dump me. I don’t care.”

  “And my job?”

  He paused. “At the risk of insulting you again, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to keep working for me after this is over. People won’t understand. It will seem…odd.”

  With that simple, rational statement, a piece of Melissa’s heart shattered. She loved her job at Solen Labs. Every day she came to work, she discovered some new challenge. Her brain was alive here as it had never been before, and the thought of losing her work was devastating.

  But she had to admit Garth had every right to ask her to leave. She’d lied about him and created a terrible situation as a result. She deserved to lose her job.

  Something of her heartbreak must have shown in her face, because Garth sighed. “Why don’t we play it by ear? Maybe the fuss will die down more quickly then I imagine. If not, I know some other people working on projects like yours. I’ll help you find something new.”

  Melissa nodded. “Thanks,” she said, defeated.

  It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.

  “Will you get in the car now?”

  She nodded, and Garth unlocked the door. For a moment, she was transported back to the night before. The surprise comfort and ease she’d felt in his presence. The rapport they’d established talking about work. The passion in his voice when he’d talked about ThinkSpeak.

  Of course, any supposed closeness was gone now. Melissa got into the car and Garth roared out of the parking garage with a squeal of tires. As soon as they were out on the highway, he pulled out his phone.

  “I need to talk to Tori.” His voice could have split a glacier.

  Tori must have been waiting beside the phone, because Garth started talking almost immediately. He explained in a few, terse statements what had occurred, from Melissa’s theory that Mark had planted the story, to his own concern for his grandmother. After making the entire fake engagement sound utterly and completely reasonable, Garth handed the phone to Melissa. “She wants to talk to you,” he said.

  The quiet electric engine of Garth’s Telsa did little to cut the silence that hung over the small space. She took the phone awkwardly, making sure not to touch his fingers.

  “Hi, Tori,” Melissa said cautiously. She almost dropped the phone when the other woman’s voice jumped out through the receiver.

  “Geez, Melissa, you’re still alive, right? Any bleeding? Visible wounds?”

  Melissa hid a smile. Tori tended to be a bit dramatic. “Of course I’m alive. I just texted you an hour ago.”

  “Yeah, but now Garth has you stuffed in his car. I can’t believe he hasn’t killed you.”

  Melissa darted a quick look at the steely-jawed man beside her. Her heart skipped a beat. It was like riding in the car with freaking James Bond—his dark gaze intent, collar unbuttoned, one hand resting confidently on the steering wheel as he darted in and out of traffic like they were being pursued by a pack of Russian bad guys. A bright electronic control panel illuminated the middle of the dashboard, depicting a street map along with a variety of statistics about the car’s performance, and she imagined it having a secret button that would turn the car into a plane, or high-speed motorboat.

  Thinking of James Bond made her think of her eldest brother, and her stomach twisted. “Is Brit there?” she asked Tori, ignoring the comment about Garth.

  “No. He’s out hiking up a mountain with some guys he met in a pub last week. I swear, he’s trying to go local, Melissa. He’s even growing a beard!”

  Melissa paused to try to take in the image of her exquisitely groomed brother growing a beard. She shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. My brother? Growing a beard?”

  When Melissa was a freshman in college, Brit had taken over as CEO of Excorp, the family business. Over the next ten years, he’d turned around the small, failing business, eventually taking it public for millions of dollars. Along the way, he’d played the part to the hilt, working eighty-hour weeks, dating a series of supermodels, and living in an incredible penthouse apartment in Manhattan. It wasn’t until he’d met and fallen in love with Tori that he’d realiz
ed he had lost himself somewhere along the way. Three months ago, he’d taken an indefinite leave of absence from the business to fulfill a lifelong dream to travel to Scotland. Melissa was thrilled that he was finally taking time to do what he wanted, and even more thrilled that he’d finally stopped playing overprotective father to her and her other two brothers.

  Tori giggled. “I think he’s developing an accent, too. It’s hilarious. I’m going to have to start calling him Scot instead of Brit.”

  “As long as he’s not bothering me,” Melissa said, “more power to him.”

  It wasn’t that Melissa didn’t have a father. She did. And a mother, too. But her parents had never been particularly…well…parental. Brit had always been the one Melissa turned to for advice and support, and part of her longed to do that now. But even as she imagined him swooping in to protect her and fix her mistakes, as he always had in the past, another part of her knew she needed to handle this on her own. Brit had driven her crazy trying to “fix” her depression, and his meddling had almost cost him the love he now shared with Tori. They both needed a little distance, and this time, Melissa was determined not to let him get involved.

  “Are you going to tell him?” she asked Tori, dreading the response.

  “You mean, am I going to tell him that Garth is strong-arming you into playing his fake fiancée?”

  Melissa closed her eyes. “Um, yeah.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Tori said cheerfully. “He’d probably cut the trip short just to throttle you and Garth. He’s starting to get over his father-complex, but I suspect that might just push him back over the edge.”

  “So what are you going to say?” Melissa asked.

  “Hopefully, nothing,” Tori replied. “The papers here don’t really give a rip about it. I only know because I have an alert that notifies me if anything pops up about Garth on the Internet. As Garth’s lawyer, I don’t like surprises. Frankly, neither does he.”

  “So I gathered,” Melissa said dryly.

  “He’s pretty pissed?”

  “You think?”

  “Well, don’t tell him I said this, but I completely understand why you did it. People do crazy things when they’re hurt.”

  Melissa blinked away a sudden tear. She couldn’t talk to Tori about Mark. Not now. Not in front of Garth. “Look, I better go. Let me know if Brit hears anything, okay?”

  “Got it. You take care of yourself. And don’t think too badly of Garth. He comes off a bit brusque, but there’s a sweet guy underneath it all.”

  Sweet? Melissa could think of a lot of adjectives to use at that moment to describe Garth Solen, but none of them were anything like “sweet.”

  Chapter Five

  For the next ten minutes, Garth wove through thick traffic, a ticking muscle in his jaw betraying his frustration. Melissa winced at every abrupt stop and start. Garth’s refusal to give her even the tiniest bit of understanding had done wonders to eliminate her lingering feelings of guilt, but nothing could eliminate the knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

  They finally pulled up in front of a tall, marble-clad building on Sixth Avenue. A man wearing a black cap and dark suit waiting on the curb ran around to the driver’s side.

  “Mr. Solen?” he asked.

  Garth put the car into park. “Yes. We won’t be long.”

  He left the car running as he jumped out. Cabs piled up behind them, honking their horns. Melissa looked everywhere but at Garth as he extended a hand to help her from the car. She ignored him and got out as quickly as she could and started walking. Seemingly unperturbed by her obvious attempts to pretend he was not there, Garth’s long legs made short work of the distance between them. With a casual but deliberate move, he reached out and touched the small of her back, guiding her toward the building ahead. She tensed, not wanting to feel her body react to him. But it did, and she found herself leaning against his hand, unwillingly relishing the gentle pressure of his touch.

  “I don’t know if there will be press here,” Garth said, his mouth barely moving, “but you should know there’s bound to be talk about our visit.”

  Melissa finally paused and looked at their destination. “Garth, why the hell did you bring me to Hadrien? Are you trying to whip the press into a frenzy?”

  Hadrien was an exclusive jewelry store known for catering to only the wealthiest clients. Rumors had it that the manager checked the portfolio of anyone who wanted to walk through the exclusive steel doors. Their signature engagement rings—set with enormous four and five-carat rose-hued diamonds—were a New York tradition.

  “My grandmother loves it here. She’ll expect it. Now try to act engaged. I want this to look real.”

  The pressure on her back did not change, and Garth did not look at her as they moved toward the building. Melissa gritted her teeth. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in her idea of “real.” That would have involved sweet nothings, loving glances, and maybe, possibly, something like a smile.

  They were greeted at the door by a man wearing a pinstriped navy suit. He was tall, with a massive chest, dark skin, and close-cropped white hair. “Welcome to Hadrien,” he said, a majestic lilt in his deep voice. “And congratulations.” He extended a hard to Melissa and dropped her a tiny wink. “I’m Tennyson Merrysman, but you can call me Ten.”

  She shook hands nervously, feeling impossibly small and gauche as her unpolished nails disappeared into his massive palm. “Nice to meet you.”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before extending his hand to Garth. “Mr. Solen, sir. Good to see you again. I appreciate you thinking of us for this important occasion.”

  “Of course. Thanks for seeing us on short notice, Ten.”

  Ten pulled open the door and gestured for them to walk inside. “Shall we?”

  As if he’d heard her earlier thoughts, Garth paused, looked down at her, and pulled her closer to his side. His hand closed around her waist as the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I can’t wait.”

  Their hips brushed together. The feeling of his body, pressed against hers, sent a shiver along Melissa’s spine.

  Breathe. In and out. Breathe.

  They walked through the doorway. Garth’s fingers splayed out along her curve of her hip and Melissa wobbled on her heels. The tiny, deliberate smile on his lips turned into something more annoying. Something deliberate. Pleased.

  Melissa considered smacking him.

  That wouldn’t look real, now, would it?

  “Ms. Bencher?”

  Melissa heard Ten’s voice as if from a distance. She realized he must have said something to her, but she had no idea what it was. “What?” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She tried to speak normally, but her voice cracked.

  “She’s a little overwhelmed,” Garth said to Ten.

  Melissa bristled at the condescending tone but forced herself to laugh.

  Ten smiled encouragingly. Melissa had the feeling he’d dealt with more than a few overwhelmed brides. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “We’ll take care of you.”

  As they walked, Garth and Ten talked about a necklace Garth was having made for Nan for Christmas. Melissa tried not to gape at the dark-hued elegance of the store. This was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Tiffany’s, or some of the other jewelry stores she’d visited with her mother over the years. There was just one long glass case against the wall, with security guards at either end, a tall, thin woman standing behind the counter, and no other patrons. Silver and gold flashed under a bank of lighting, while dark velvet curtains contrasted in heightened elegance with the shimmer of diamonds and the milky gleam of pearls.

  Melissa’s mother had never liked diamonds. She preferred splashy, colorful stones, glass beads, and jewelry from obscure artists in SoHo. Melissa, on the other hand, had always had a secret fantasy—probably created by watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s one too many times—of someday picking out a diamond ring with her fiancé.

  He’d stare at he
r adoringly and choose an enormous stone he could barely afford.

  She’d smile, bat her lashes, and hold out her hand.

  They’d lose themselves in each other’s eyes. A saleswoman would have to clear her throat to get their attention.

  “This way, Ms. Bencher.”

  Ten’s deep voice brought her out of her Audrey Hepburn–inspired reverie. She followed Ten’s lead past the jewelry case into a small, private room with no windows and three burgundy armchairs arranged around a table. A security guard closed the door gently behind them. On the table, a black cloth appeared to conceal a square object.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” Garth said.

  He pulled out a chair, and she forced herself to smile and look relaxed. “Thanks, darling,” she replied sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

  He wanted this to be real? Then, damn it, he was going to have to deal with her reality. The one where people got married because they liked each other. Cared about each other. Maybe even loved each other.

  On impulse, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He froze. She patted his hand and tried to act nonchalant.

  Did I really just kiss my boss?

  Her small, rebellious gesture had clearly backfired, as the touch of her lips against his skin sent a shock of heat racing through her body.

  “I had Ten bring out a few pieces I thought you’d like,” Garth said, his voice slightly strangled. A moment later, he forced out, “Sweetheart.”

  She slid into one of the chairs and ran her palms down the soft velvet upholstery. Garth sat down beside her and took her hand. He squeezed gently. The gesture was obviously intended to communicate a casual Isn’t this fun? to Ten, and a terse Don’t mess with me, baby to her.