Sold as a Fake Fiancee: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance

by Juliana Conners

  I’m up in his face now, practically spitting on him, and he lunges towards me.

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Watch me!”

  I don’t back down, and I think this surprises Brian. He realizes how serious I am, and how I’m not going to just roll over and play nice like I always used to. He grabs me by my arms and shoves me down into the stool in front of the bar.

  This scares me. He’s never done anything like this to me before. He has my full attention now.

  “You listen here, Riley. You think you’re important, that you have some influence, but you don’t. Not anymore. You know who the big players are, and you’re not one of them.”

  “Brian, please.”

  He’s squeezing my arms, and it hurts. I try hard not to cry but I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

  “You don’t matter. You were just a lowly associate and now you’re nothing. You’re finished at Holt. Even if my dad wanted to take you back, I’ll tell him not do it. And if you run your mouth about this you’ll be blackballed from every firm in town and you know it.”

  “Just let me go.”

  I try to stand up and walk away from him but he pushes me back down onto the chair. He’s raising a fist at me and I wouldn’t put it past him to hit me. I never thought he’d do something like that, but then again I never thought he’d do anything like this.

  “Brian!” I cry out, feeling trapped and humiliated. But then I hear a loud popping sound, and the next thing I know he falls over onto the floor.

  I gasp, along with everyone else, as I realize who hit him.

  “Jensen! Thank you.”

  But I don’t think it’s victory or acknowledgement staring back at me through Jensen’s attractive brown eyes. More like disappointment, or pity.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, throwing money onto our table as we rush out of the bar.

  Chapter 16

  Pop.

  There goes that little douchebag, falling down to the floor of the bar like the piece of crap that he is. I can’t believe I fell for a girl who’s still hung up on this loser.

  When I first noticed them fighting, I couldn’t believe it. Why would beautiful, successful Riley be with this obvious daddy’s boy?

  But then I heard her say that they’re engaged and that she still wanted to go back to the firm and I gave up trying to understand her. It didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy punching him though.

  It’s dark by the time we get outside, and chilly, too.

  “Thank you so much for doing that,” Riley starts to say, and tries to take my hand, but I don’t let her.

  “There’s no time to talk. Hurry up.”

  We walk back to her office, which isn’t far away. I want to tell her to have a nice life. But I look at her, shaking and crying, and realize that even though I’ve become completely disillusioned by her, I can’t just leave her to walk to her office and drive home in her state.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home. And you’ll need this. It’s freezing and it looks like it’s going to rain.”

  I hand her my leather jacket and helmet and urge her mentally to hurry up. The last thing I need right now is another arrest.

  She jumps on behind me and I turn around to ask, “What’s your address?”

  She yells it into my ear and I take her to her house in the Northeast Heights, a swanky part of town.

  Stepping off the bike, I ask her, “Are you going to be okay getting your car tomorrow?”

  She shivers. “Yeah, I have a neighbor who also works downtown and sometimes we car pool. But… do you want to come in?”

  She looks at me shyly, as if it was difficult to ask a guy into her house. She obviously doesn’t understand that we’re no longer on the same page.

  “Look Riley, you’re a sweet girl and all, and I’m glad you’re helping me on my case. But this will just never work. We’re just too… different.”

  “Too different?” She explodes.

  “Woah. There’s no need to use the same tone of voice with me that you were just using with your douchebag fiancé.”

  “Ex fiancé.”

  I shrug, looking at her earnest face. I wish she weren’t so good looking because it makes all of this that much harder. But no matter what her status is with that jerk, she’s the one who clearly wants to be with him, and back at that sleazy firm.

  “Whatever.”

  “What the hell, Jensen? You just now realize we’re two different people? Just because I don’t go around solving all my problems with bar fights, like you do?”

  Ouch. That was a low blow.

  “You looked like you needed some help,” I say, returning the jab. “Excuse me for stepping in.”

  She glares at me.

  “And for the record,” I continue, “the assault I was charged with wasn’t a bar fight. I told you, I was defending someone.”

  “Yeah.”

  She still looks defensive, but curious now, too. I figure what the hell. I don’t even care what she thinks about me anymore.

  “Just like I was defending you right now. Except that time was worse. It was… my mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  “I went to check in on her and she had her boyfriend over—” one of her boyfriends, I want to add, but I don’t— “and he was drunk and belligerent. He just had her up against the counter, pounding into her face with his fists. Obviously I had to step in. Just like with you. I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. That’s not my way. So I got him off of her.”

  “I see.”

  There’s only understanding in her voice, not the judgment I feared.

  “Sure, maybe I used a little more force than… an average person would use but I’m not an average person. And she’s my mom.”

  “I get it, Jensen. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me sooner.”

  “Because my family has already had enough negative talk thrown around about us. I didn’t want to air their dirty laundry in court. Especially not for my dad’s sake.”

  Because it’s embarrassing to have a mom who left your dad when you were young, and who has had a rotating door of much worse partner choices ever since, I want to add. And because I cared what you thought about me and didn’t want to have to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets. But none of that matters anymore because I’m no longer interested.

  She doesn’t say anything, so I decide to give the death blow to whatever budding “relationship” we might have had going.

  “It’s not like you told me everything either,” I accuse her.

  “What? I told you why I’m working for Veterans’ Legal Alliance. And why I’m not at the firm anymore right now.”

  “Yeah but you conveniently left out the part where you were engaged to the son of the boss who wanted you to do the wrong thing.”

  “Well I didn’t need to tell you that!” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m your lawyer, not your client. It’s different. And we’re not even…”

  “…in a relationship,” I finish for her. “I know. Fine. That’s good.”

  “Yes it is!” she says, having to shout now over the rain that’s beginning to pour down. Or maybe because she’s that angry. She takes off my coat and hands it to me, along with my helmet.

  “Goodbye, Riley.”

  “Goodbye, Jensen. I’ll see you at your hearing in a week. Thank you for the additional information as it’s very helpful to me in preparing your defense.”

  Pfffft. She’s trying to act so professional and untouched, and I can do the same. I doubt I’ll even be seeing her in a week.

  I think another call to Tim is in order. Or maybe to a private attorney. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with these Veterans’ Legal Alliance lawyers. And I don’t think I can bear to see Riley again.

  Chapter 17

  Sometimes life takes a strange turn of events. And then it just keeps going down a winding path of stranger and stranger turns.

  Today is
my fourth year anniversary of being a lawyer. I remember how proud I was when I was sworn into the State Bar, with my parents at my side and Jack Holt moving for my recommendation into the Bar.

  Now I know why Jensen Bradford came into my life. It wasn’t to sweep me off my feet and make me fall madly in love with him, as I’d initially thought. It wasn’t even to help save his career, which is what we’d both initially thought. It was for him to help save my career, which had been barreling down the wrong track without my even knowing it.

  I think about the oath I took when I was sworn into the State Bar. And how that means nothing to Brian, or to his dad, or apparently to anyone at Holt. Jensen’s right. Why would I have even wanted to work there? Why did I want to be with Brian?

  I’m at my old office at the Holt firm, hurrying to do what I need to do before anyone gets suspicious. They think I’m here to retrieve some personal documents from my office computer— which they’ve already wiped clean of firm documents— and to talk to Jack Holt. That’s only half of what I’m here to do.

  I need to make things right for the client, even if that means making my own life a lot more difficult. I log into Brian’s domain server at the firm using his way- too- easy password: “callofduty123.”

  And there, plain as day, are chat logs between Brian and Kristin: romantic ones, as well as professional ones in which Brian gives up confidential client information so as to help Kristin advance at her firm. I suppose he assumes his job with Daddy is always secure. But in return she gives him some juicy tidbits that he can use to impress Daddy.

  This was all under my nose the whole time. Perhaps a part of me knew that Brian was with someone else, and just didn’t want to face the truth. I skip reading the romantic emails because I don’t even care anymore. She can have him. And I redact their names from the professional emails because I’m not even out for revenge. I just want the client to know that he’s about to lose his trial, and why.

  I email the redacted emails to the client, with a note explaining that he will probably want to find a new lawyer as soon as possible. And then I retrieve my meager personal belongings and go upstairs to the partner’s floor, and then to Jack Holt’s office. I leave my box of things outside his door before entering.

  “Hello Riley,” he says, gesturing for me to sit, although I don’t. “I’ve been hearing good things from you and the work you’re doing at Veterans’ Legal Alliance. It’s impressive that you’re working to strengthen the firm’s relations with the military community. The partners and I are going to have a meeting next week about your return from your leave of absence…”

  Can he really be saying what I think he’s saying? Brian made it sound like my job here was toast. I guess he was wrong about that. And I suppose he didn’t tell his father about the knock- out that Jensen delivered to him.

  I hesitate for only a second, realizing that everything I thought I wanted is back within my reach, and yet I’m purposefully throwing it away. But then I remember the email I sent to the client, and how I had knowingly sealed my fate. I can’t work at this firm anymore ever again, and I also probably can’t work at any like it. And that’s a good thing.

  I take a deep breath and say what I came here to say.

  “Mr. Holt, I greatly appreciate your mentorship over the years and the opportunity to work for your firm. But I have decided to pursue other endeavors. I am tendering my resignation, effective immediately.”

  “Other endeavors?” He asks, bewildered, as if there can’t possibly be any others. As if my end- all, be- all goal should be to work at Holt for my entire life. Which is exactly what I used to think, too.

  “Yes, I enjoy working for veterans and I plan to continue doing that as well as helping out with other good causes. And I may take some plaintiffs’ cases.”

  “Some plaintiffs’ cases? Good causes? Riley, you realize this is a career death sentence, right? None of this is nearly as financially viable or secure as working here at Holt. You were always a smart young woman with a good head on your shoulders. I’m sure you understand that there are ways to incorporate your newfound bleeding heart causes into your pro bono hours and after-work volunteer activities? It would make you an even stronger and better member of the firm. You’re up for a junior partnership vote next year, and none of these recent… events… have changed the partners’ minds about your ability to be a partner here.”

  “Thank you again, Mr. Holt, but I no longer wish to be a member of the firm. The recent… events… have changed my mind about wishing to be a partner here.”

  “Riley, I’m, speechless. I’m not sure what you mean…”

  “Mr. Holt,” I begin again, figuring I might have to spell it out for him. “I do not approve of what happened at the Isaacs Capital trial. I believe it to be a violation of the rules of ethics and professionalism to…”

  “Very well, Riley,” he says, standing and leading me to the door of his office. “If you’re going to swing around wild accusations without any proof, this definitely is not the firm for you.”

  Oh, I certainly have proof, I think, but I just nod and say, “I agree, Mr. Holt, that this is not the firm for me. Goodbye.”

  “I’d be very careful what you go around accusing this firm of,” Mr. Holt says. “In case your plans to do good work for low pay don’t end up being as satisfying— financially or otherwise— as you think it will be. You will need a reference, after all.”

  I suppose that’s his way of blackmailing me. But too bad for him it’s too late.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Holt,” I say, without any further answer. “Thank you again for the opportunity and experience.”

  “Goodbye.”

  And don’t let the door hit you on the way out, I know he wants to add, as I leave the firm of Holt, Mason and Davis forever.

  Chapter 18

  I walk into court and do my best not to look at Riley. My goal is to act distant and reserved no matter how I feel when I see her, which I know won’t exactly be easy. This is just a business relationship, as she’d said. I’m her client, not her boyfriend.

  And because I’m her client she has a duty to represent me well and the way I want. I’m hoping she can still do that despite her emotions. Just like I will be a good client despite mine.

  She’s already seated at counsel table when I walk in.

  “Hello Jensen,” she says. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t get here in time.”

  “They’ve already called my case?”

  “You’re first on the docket. This is just an expert witness approval hearing, so the judge will hear it first before other cases. And then we’ll be all set for trial.”

  “I see.”

  There’s an ice cold silence between us. She taps a thick binder with my name on it and says, “I’ve been working on your case. I think you have a solid defense.”

  I search her face to determine if she’s being sarcastic, blowing smoke up my ass, or genuine. Her eyes appear sincere. I let my gaze briefly travel down to her lips, and try not to remember how full and delicious they felt on my own just the other night.

  I force myself to look back down at the binder: it does appear that she’s put a lot of work into my case, and for that I’m grateful. I’ll try to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  The judge enters and calls my case and the lawyers state their names for the record. I look at his stern face instead of at Riley’s ass.

  “We’re here regarding the defendant’s proposed expert witness, Dr. Levi Roth,” the judge says. “Counsel, I’ve read both of your written submissions and for the sake of brevity I don’t need a huge rehashing of the arguments. This is some pretty standard stuff and I’m not sure why you’re objecting to the defense’s motion, ADA Stemple, except, of course, just for the sake of objecting?”

  “Certainly not, Your Honor,” says ADA Stemple. He clears his throat and I switch my purposeful perspective to him. From where I sit I can see him shift from one foot to the next. Riley has him nervous.
Good job, Riley. That’s my girl.

  “Well then my main question would be for an elucidation on the nature of your objection.” The judge glares at him as if to say this better be good.

  “It’s just, that, well, defense counsel’s purpose for using this expert is unorthodox,” says ADA Stemple, stammering the entire time. “I don’t think her theory is normally one within the purview of this expert’s testimony.”

  “Your Honor,” Riley interjects, and the judge looks back at her with more interest than he was showing the other attorney.

  I’m not sure what they’re talking about but I take that to be a good sign.

  “Dr. Roth is one of the prominent PTSD experts in the country,” Riley continues. “He has experience with all kinds of cases and is quite qualified to testify whether or not a defendant actually…”

  Now I understand the phrase “seeing red,” because my mind literally flashes red with anger. I can’t believe Riley’s doing this to me, just like Dylan tried to do.

  Was it before or after I got upset with her romantically that she decided to use an expert to say I have PTSD and screw me over professionally? It doesn’t even matter. I just have to put an end to this.

  “Your Honor,” I say, jumping out of my chair and causing all three of them— the judge, Riley, and the ADA— to look at me in shock. “I need to say something.”

  “Mr. Bradford, your attorney is quite competent to speak on your behalf,” says the judge. “And she’s doing an excellent job at that, if I might add.”

  “But that’s the problem, Your Honor. I no longer want her to be my attorney.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  All three of them look aghast at me, but Riley looks hurt as well as surprised. She’s staring at me as if she can’t believe I don’t want her to be my attorney anymore, but I know she’s smart enough to figure out why. I guess she thought that she could just give me lip service but do things her way and sweet talk me so much I’d never notice that she was using the exact defense I had told her from the beginning I didn’t want her to use.