Fake Marriage Act

by Lulu Pratt

  Chapter 7

  Ava

  It’s been a week since my date with Logan, and each day he seems to get more aggressive in his attempts to contact me. First, it was one call a day, and then two.

  Next, he was sending texts asking if I’m free, and then leaving voice messages when I failed to respond. I’ve continued to ignore his calls and stall him via text. I need more time to consider his proposal, despite Petra’s insistence that I take him for every penny.

  Yesterday, he even had a courier service deliver a handwritten note, asking if I could make time to speak with him today, but after several minutes of mock conversations in the mirror, I just couldn’t do it.

  Petra has assured me he’s an arrogant asshole, so I imagine he should begin to cool down soon. A week has to be too long of a chase for someone of his caliber. He should be annoyed and over me, or at least that’s what I hope.

  Walking into the office, preparing myself for a long day, I’m met with a death stare from Petra, her arms crossed as she stands next to Melanie, our receptionist, who wears a helpless look when my eyes land on hers.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask concerned, as Melanie silently apologizes.

  Petra steps aside to reveal the largest, and most beautiful, bouquet of white roses I’ve ever seen. They’re long stem, in a tall glass vase, and without counting, I’m sure there have to at least be fifty of them.

  Ignoring Petra’s feelings, I focus on the flowers, leaning in to smell the amazing aroma.

  “Here,” Petra sneers, shoving a small white card to me.

  I don’t tire easily, Ava. Call me. – Logan.

  I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face, as Petra rolls her eyes and walks into her office, calling behind her, “Close the deal today.”

  “I’m sorry, Ava. I was going to put them in your office before she got here, but Petra came in earlier than I expected,” Melanie begins, rushing her words in an effort to explain.

  “It’s not your fault,” I say with a smile, winking to let her know I don’t care about Petra’s attitude, before carefully carrying the beautiful roses into my office, setting the heavy vase on my desk.

  “They are beautiful,” she sighs from my doorway.

  “Yes, they are,” I smile to myself.

  “So, today’s load just got much lighter. Your last appointment of the day canceled, freeing up two hours, but other than that you’re completely booked.” Melanie runs off my schedule as she does every morning.

  “Okay, that’s fine. Please let me know when my first appointment arrives. I need to make a call,” I wait her to leave, watching her fail at hiding her blush, knowing I’ll be calling the sender of such a beautiful floral arrangement.

  It takes ten minutes before I can muster the courage to call Logan. Deciding it unprofessional to call his cell phone, I opt for his office line.

  “Good morning. You’ve reached Mr. Draper’s desk. This is Jennifer speaking, how may I help you?” His assistant answers, way too perky for eight o’clock in the morning.

  “Hi. I was hoping to speak with Mr. Draper,” I request before taking a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry. Unfortunately, Mr. Draper is in a meeting. May I take a message?” she says in a most robotic tone. A sense of relief rushes over me, grateful to delay the conversation.

  “Yes, please let him know that Ava – uh, Ms. Batcher – returned his call,” I correct myself, hoping to sound as professional as possible when he reads the message.

  “Ava? Ava Batcher?” She asks in a shocked whisper.

  “Umm… yeah,” I answer confused. Surely, she’s never heard of me.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Batcher. I didn’t recognize this number. May you please hold? Mr. Draper has been waiting for your call.”

  I can hear the anxiety in her voice, and don’t want to be the reason she gets in trouble. Petra said Logan is known to be a ruthless boss.

  “Ava?!”

  My stomach curls instantly at the sound of his velvety soft voice.

  “Logan – I mean, Mr. Draper,” I say, determined to be in charge of my emotions.

  “I told you not to call me that,” he says in his normal deep and seductive tone.

  “Well, what would you prefer?” I bait him, walking around my office in anticipation of his response.

  “What’s so wrong with Logan?” he asks, and I can tell he’s smirking.

  “Do most of your colleagues call you Logan?”

  “You’re not most,” he shoots back quickly.

  “So, you’re already making exceptions for me, and I haven’t even taken you on?” I tease.

  “I was hoping we could fix that by the end of this call.”

  “Oh? I was just calling to thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful,” I say, testing the waters.

  “How many days do I need to send them until you will take me on as a client? Or should I just send them on the hour?”

  “Is that how you woo your real estate investors?” I question sarcastically.

  “Oh, come on, Ava. You’ve done your research, you’re taking me on. Why torture me?”

  “If this is torture for you I don’t know that you’ll make it through a session with me,” I immediately recognize the sexual undertone in the sentence, but by then it’s too late.

  “Well, give me a chance. If I don’t live up to your expectations, you can always cut me loose,” he matches the subtlety so well I can’t be sure he’s picked up on my undertone at all.

  Pausing, I try to think of the possible scenarios for getting out of this, but at this point, I don’t think there is a way to back out. Petra has been requesting updates since I told her about Logan, and I know she won’t be satisfied unless I at least give this a real chance.

  “Please, Ava. I need you.” His voice is desperate and vulnerable, a tone I’ve never heard from him. My thighs squeeze together as I acknowledge his less-than-subtle undertones.

  “We can give this a try, Logan, but I can’t make any guarantees. You have to be serious about this, or it won’t work.”

  “I will. Trust me. What time can you come over?”

  “Come over? What?”

  “Come on, Ava. I can’t be seen going into your office. I’ll pay the premium, but I need you here. Bill me whatever,” he proposes, and I think of Petra’s description of him.

  “I’ll check for availabilities for this week,” I respond after a brief pause.

  “I need you today,” his tone is now authoritative and demanding. He’s in his professional mode, closing the deal.

  “Today?” I say more to myself than him.

  “Yes. If you have to come after your business hours, I can do that. You can bill me extra for that as well.”

  “I have a cancellation at three. Does that–”

  “Three o’clock is great. See you then.”

  Just then the light on my desk begins to blink, alerting me to my first client’s arrival.

  “Three o’clock it is,” I confirm.

  For the next seven hours, my focus is on my clock and nothing else. There’s no way I can help my clients with Logan dominating my thoughts, but I try my best, taking notes as regularly as possible as I listen to their updates and plans for improvement.

  Before long, it’s finally time to go to Logan’s office, which is much nicer than I expected. From my quick research, I knew he was from a wealthy family, and had gone on to dabble in real estate investments, creating an impressive portfolio almost by accident.

  Situated on the eleventh floor of a gold building on Wilshire Boulevard, Draper Holdings, Inc. is quite impressive. Jennifer, Logan’s nervous assistant, runs off a long list of drinks so fast I can barely make out any of the options.

  “I’ll have a water,” I smile, assuming that was one of the choices.

  Before I’ve even noticed her absence, she walks into the waiting room holding a bottle of Fiji water.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Batche
r. Mr. Draper will see you now,” she says, waiting for me to follow.

  “Please call me Ava,” I smile and thank her as she holds Logan’s office door open.

  From the waiting area, you can’t see inside his office. In fact, it looks like an opaque glass so dark you can even make out your reflection, but from the inside he can see everything.

  Meeting us at the door, he nods to Jennifer, who blushes before rushing out of the office, seemingly grateful to escape her boss. Maybe Petra was right.

  “Ava,” he smiles, hugging me briefly, allowing his lips to slide over my cheek as he has done in the past.

  “Hello, Logan,” I fight to remain in control as his scent encompasses me.

  “Did Jenn offer you a drink?”

  “Premium water,” I hold the clear bottle up, and he flashes that smile that releases butterflies in my stomach.

  “Have a seat,” he motions to a brown leather loveseat, settling in the matching chair across from me.

  “You have a very nice office.”

  “How have you been?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat, catching me off guard with his line of questioning.

  “I’m fine, and yourself?” I try to keep our conversation casual.

  “Why have you been ignoring me?”

  “I haven’t, Logan. I’m busy and I told you I’d get back to you,” I lie, avoiding eye contact by looking out the wall of windows that surround his office.

  “Ava,” he calls my name demanding my attention, so I turn as if I wasn’t avoiding him.

  “Logan,” I tease him and he grins.

  “I’m happy to see you,” he says softly, looking directly into my eyes.

  “I’m happy to get started on this session. So, the way I typically begin my coaching is to get to know each other. The first session is about boundaries and trust, and the goal is to have both established by the time I leave today,” I go into my serious mode, as my professionalism kicks in, putting me in my comfort zone of work.

  “That sounds simple enough.”

  “Logan, why am I here?” I ask, and he blanches a bit, so I quickly rephrase the question, knowing this can be intimidating for clients. “What do you hope to gain or improve through our sessions?” I reiterate, and he looks more comfortable with that version.

  “I want balance – between my work and social life, which at the time is a bit nonexistent, but I’m hoping you can help me remedy that.”

  I jot down some notes before responding. “Sure. I’ve experienced plenty of circumstances like this before. I’m sure we can work together to create a plan for you to find a bit of ‘work-life balance’,” I assure him, jotting down another note.

  Chapter 8

  Logan

  Watching her scribble in her little notebook, as she pulls out paperwork from a folder, I find it extremely difficult not to chuckle. She’s so serious, treating this like a real session, which I guess makes sense.

  Maybe she really does believe I want her as a life coach, but the vibe between us is too strong for her to possibly ignore it. That’s what I want, that intense feeling I get whenever she’s around, and if paying her is the only way to have it, then she can bill me whatever she wants.

  I figured by the time she got here, she would have put together that this was all just a ploy to get her to make time for me.

  I was no stranger to career women, and how their dedication often left no time for catering to my schedule, but I’d always been willing to compensate them for their flexibility. Usually, they would just overbill me as their way of getting paid, which I was fine with, knowing it was a temporary thing.

  Ava, on the other hand, was making this difficult, forcing me to go through a session with her, whereas the other women immediately saw through my plan and bent over my desk.

  “So, Logan, have you always been very goal-oriented, or is this something that came to you in adulthood?”

  “Well… I guess when I was younger I really wanted to do what my parents wanted from me. They were both rarely around, so I wanted to be sure to have good news when I did see them. In a way, that was like chasing goals, but I never really looked at it that way. All my adult life, I’ve been extremely focused on whatever I set out to achieve.”

  “Where were your parents?”

  “My dad worked a lot, and my mom was just… I don’t know really.” I chuckle, trying to make light of the situation, but I can see she doesn’t fall for my cover-up.

  “Who was there for you?”

  “My grandmother. My father’s mom. Her name was Ida, and she pretty much raised me. Well, my parents took great care of me financially, but Ida was always there, like physically there, for me.” I can’t believe the words that are coming out of my mouth. I’ve never explained anything like this to anyone, but with Ava, I don’t have the defenses or desire to skate around her questions. If she asks, I’ll answer.

  “And your grandma… is she…”

  “She passed away about seven years ago.” I finish her question.

  “I’m glad she was so special, Logan,” she says with a small smile. It’s the first time anyone has said anything other than a typical, ‘I’m sorry to hear that’, and for some strange reason, it makes me even more attracted to her.

  “So, Ava, do you still have grandparents?” I decide to turn the tables on her.

  “I’ve never really had grandparents. My parents had me pretty late in life. My mom was told she couldn’t have children, so I was their miracle baby. Both sets of my grandparents were gone before my fifth birthday, so I can’t remember anything about them. I hope I didn’t ask too much about your grandmother, or make you uncomfortable. It’s just a very endearing relationship I’ve always admired and desired, ya know? So, I’m always interested in other people’s experiences.”

  “That makes sense. And, no, you didn’t bother me at all. You can ask me anything,” I say, and strangely, I mean it.

  Ava is the most genuine and sincere person I’ve been around in a really long time. She’s so sweet and innocent, I almost feel guilty for wasting her time on this fake session.

  “So, what’s your business life like?” She says, flipping to a new page in her notebook.

  “There’s no typical day for me. Everything is changing and constantly moving. One week I’m here, the next week I’m there. A lot of travel, long hours, high-stress decisions and big payoffs. I do take time off to celebrate finishing a project, but generally I like to get back sooner than later.”

  “So, you like what you do then?” she asks, not writing anything down.

  “I guess you can say I do. To me, it’s a bit mundane and routine, but now that I think of how much I miss it when I’m away, yeah, I like what I do,” I realize for the first time.

  “That’s great. Most people can’t say that, so congratulations for creating a career you love,” she smiles like she’s proud of me, and I have to bite my lip to stop a grin from spreading across my face.

  “Thank you,” I shrug instead.

  “And your personal life? I’m assuming that’s where you’re struggling?” She places her pencil in the notebook, focusing on me with those beautiful hazel eyes of hers.

  “Your assumption would be right. Sometimes, I think I don’t even want a social life. I mean, I must not from the way I behave. Even when there’s a possibility to create an environment of people, I shy away, preferring to stay to myself,” I shrug again, a little uncomfortable admitting something that I have never even really admitted to myself.

  “Well, if you don’t want to change that, it’s fine. We can work together to create a balance of work and personal alone time. The balance doesn’t have to include other people, and neither does a social life. The most important relationship you’ll ever have is with you.”

  “Ava, do you have a boyfriend?” The question falls off my tongue. It was a random thought, because it seemed like the only explanation for her behavior. That would make everything make sense. Ava was apprehensive and slow to ac
cept anything I offered, because she was in a relationship.

  “Well, I don’t think that’s the most appropriate question, Logan, but no, I do not have a boyfriend. What brought that on?” she asks, baffled.

  “Just trying to understand you,” I admit.

  “How do you see this balance working itself out? What does it look like in your mind?” She moves right along.

  It’s in that random moment that a brilliant idea springs to my mind. It’s a collaboration of several recent conversations and desires, and I could kick myself for not thinking of it sooner.

  “Honestly, Ava, I have no idea. In fact, I think it will take several of these sessions before I can even begin to visualize it.”

  “Believe me, some of these goals can take years to actualize and successfully implement into your routine,” she responds soothingly.

  “Yeah, but I don’t want my lifestyle to be the reason I have to delay my progress or slow down this planning,” I add, looking directly into her eyes again.

  “Well, I’m committed to helping you achieve your balance, Logan. Really. And I thought this was going to be a bust, if I’m honest, but now that I’m here, I see we have a potential for a great partnership,” she says with the flash of a smile.

  “Good. Because I want you to come with me so that we can continue my sessions regularly without interruption,” I state bluntly.

  “Come with you? With you where?”

  “Wherever. Next week I go to Europe, and I want you to travel with me,” I explain.

  “Logan, I have other clients,” she begins, but I cut her off.

  “I know. And I can understand how what I’m asking is a lot. Believe me, it is not lost on me. I’m happy to pay double their normal rates for you to clear your schedule so that you’ll be able to travel with me.”

  “She was right,” she whispers so low I’m almost certain I wasn’t supposed to hear it, so I remain silent, awaiting Ava’s response as she looks on in shock.

  “Logan, you’re asking a lot,” she sighs, looking down into her lap.