Fake Marriage Act

by Lulu Pratt

  “Good morning, Mr. Draper’s office. Sarah speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hello, I’m calling to schedule Mr. Draper’s life coaching sessions for the upcoming week,” I speak with the confidence and authority reserved for my professional persona.

  “Really? Is that the best you have?”

  “Excuse me?” I hold the phone away from my ear thinking this must be some kind of joke.

  “Mr. Draper has never had a life coach, and would never hire such a consultant. He’s not doing interviews about his latest merger, and there’s no way you’ll be sneaking past me with such a weak cover,” she sighs as if she’s actually amused.

  “I’m sorry, there must be some misunderstanding. I’ve been seeing Mr. Draper for regular sessions over the course of several weeks. Maybe you’re not privy to these, but I guarantee I’m not making this up,” I explain, debating whether I should mention just returning from a trip with him, but I don’t want to reveal my identity and that’s a dead giveaway.

  “If that is the case, please let me know your last session,” she says. She thinks this is a joke, and my frustration is beginning to overflow.

  “Fine,” I flip through my schedule, searching for the date of our last session. “Last Tuesday at eleven,” I bite through my teeth, smiling as I hear her flip through her pages.

  “Try again. Mr. Draper had me reserve a large block of time, including that hour for a – well, a personal matter, and I can attest it was no sort of life coaching. Have a good day,” she says perkily before ending the call.

  With the phone still against my ear, I feel frozen in time as the reality of what she said sinks in. Could he have hidden it from his assistant, possibly from embarrassment? I mean, I’m not a shrink, life planning isn’t the type of thing people hide, but there’s still that possibility.

  Then I remember how she spoke when talking about my last session with him, as if she knew a juicy secret I wasn’t privy to. A personal matter, she called it.

  Logan doesn’t seem like the type to just lie to my face, especially after all that we shared, but he is the type of person to go to great lengths for something he wants.

  Hiring me with no intention of utilizing my services seems like a stretch, until I consider how little he cared about our sessions on the trip. We never even talked about his personal or professional life, outside of when we bathed together and he revealed how closed off he is.

  Cringing at the thought of learning about my client while naked, I clench my eyes shut, shaking my head in disgust. I’ve crossed some serious boundaries, and I don’t think there’s any way to resolve it.

  Even after learning of this possibility, I still long to see him, touch him, hear his excuse. Deep down, I know he set this all up to date me, and it makes me sick knowing that he succeeded.

  A knock at my door steals my attention, as I press the unlock button on my desktop preparing for Melanie to come in with an update on work, but instead it’s Petra.

  “Did you look over the invoices I left you?” she asks with attitude.

  “I did. But I think I have a bigger problem,” I take a deep breath, readying myself for the embarrassment of confessing.

  “What’s up?” she asks casually, sitting down in a chair across from my desk.

  “I think Logan was just trying to date me,” I whisper, but Petra barely flinches. “Like, I don’t think he ever wanted me to help him professionally.”

  “Well, obviously, Ava.”

  “What do you mean obviously?”

  “I mean, what would make a billionaire need you to help him with life planning? What would even make you think you’re equipped to do that? Why do you think I’ve been stressing you to bill him as much as possible?” She shoots off one point after another, so quickly I feel my head beginning to spin.

  “Wait. So, you suspected this?” I stand from my desk, rattled from her subtle insults.

  “Ava, he’s a dirtbag. He’s always after something, so you need to get what you can, before he’s used you. That’s all he does. So, can we get these invoices out or what? He’ll pay whatever you want,” she shrugs, leaning over my desk as she looks at the paperwork.

  “Petra, I’m not going to overcharge him just to use him.” My voice is weak and low, as my chest heaves, the air seeming thinner with each breath.

  “Did you sleep with him or something?” She looks up, and I force a shocked face, silently lying to her.

  “Okay, good. Then he’ll still be on the hunt. Just don’t sleep with him, because after that, you’re useless.”

  Rage begins to course through my veins, and strangely it’s not for Logan. Instead, I’m infuriated with Petra. I can understand her feelings about Logan, because at the end of the day, she doesn’t know him. But to talk about me like I’m some disposable piece of meat is unacceptable and nothing like friendly behavior.

  “I need some time to finish a few things. Can you leave me?” I ask, turning to look out my window, unable to look at her any longer.

  “Don’t forget those invoices,” she reminds me as she walks out the door.

  While it currently feels impossible, I know I have to avoid Logan completely, cutting him out of my life as if he never existed. Even in my most upset state, I know that won’t be easy, because my feelings for him are anything but tame.

  Chapter 19

  Ava

  Déjà vu.

  It’s all surreal. The white roses, this time one hundred instead of fifty.

  The arrogant charisma of the card.

  This worked for me once. So, here’s to doubling down. – Logan

  It’s been five days since Logan’s assistant all but revealed his manipulation, and I’d received more calls and messages than I could count on his behalf.

  Now, he is sending roses to my office again and I’m anything but pleased. I’d like to feel nothing. If I could forget everything I felt, this would be so much easier, but I can’t. Every kiss, every smile, every touch, every groan. They’re embedded in my brain, committed to permanent memory.

  “Ava, I have Mr. Draper again. Take another message?” Melanie asks through the intercom system, and I hesitate before answering.

  “No, send him through,” I say into the speaker.

  “Really? Oh, okay.”

  Then my phone begins ringing. Two deep breaths and a hard swallow later, I pick up the phone, keeping my eyes closed.

  “This is Ava,” I answer professionally.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you,” he says coolly. His sexy confidence oozes through the phone, but it’s not enough to sway me.

  “I know,” I say flatly, irritated.

  “Did you get the roses?” he asks, maintaining his calm tone.

  “I did. You’re a one-trick pony, aren’t you?”

  “I think you know that’s not accurate,” he whispers.

  “Logan,” I sigh, unsure of what I’ll even say, and I’m grateful when he interrupts me.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know why you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. I know we stepped over a boundary on that trip, and I know I can’t do that. I’m sorry it happened. Well, I’m not sorry it happened, but I’m sorry it’s put a wedge between us.” He sounds sincere and genuine, but he’s completely out the loop, giving me the advantage.

  “Logan, why did you hire me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know why you asked me to take you on as a client.”

  “I, uh, I needed some assistance and you seemed like the right consultant,” he answers generically.

  “You hired me because you wanted to date me. Didn’t you?”

  Silence blares through the phone even louder than a denial or admission ever could.

  “I believed you, Logan. I trusted you. I felt like an unethical and immoral professional, and it was always your intention to make me feel that way.” My feelings spill out as he all but confirms my s
uspicions.

  “Ava, it was never–” He tries to continue, but I won’t have it.

  “It was never what? Never that serious? Never that big of a deal? Was this all fun and games to you? Because it’s my livelihood. My reputation. My life. I can accept that I was nothing more than a conquest to you, but just so you know, your little act is very good, because I really believed your lies.”

  “Ava, it was all the truth…” I hear his attempt of a rebuttal as I lay down the receiver, ending the call.

  The phone immediately begins ringing, and without thinking, I grab my bag and make my way out the office.

  “It’s Mr. Draper,” Melanie says, covering the mouthpiece with her hand.

  “Tell him I no longer work here,” I say in stride, continuing out the door as Melanie smirks, but I’m not joking.

  Putting all my clients on hold for Logan was a risk, and I knew that, but after what happened between me and him, I have no desire to pick back up where I left off.

  On autopilot, I drive without any destination before arriving at Venice Beach. Stopping at a bike shop on the strip, I change into a tie-dye romper before making my way down the strip on my rented bicycle.

  The sunny afternoon passes me by as my thoughts wander while pedaling down the boardwalk. My head is all over the place, but that’s only the beginning of the problem.

  What hurts the most is the aching in my heart, the longing I still feel for a man who’s betrayed me. How could I be so stupid?

  Petra’s words replay in my mind – how did I even think I was qualified to assist him in his life?

  Truthfully, I’d thought we were making good progress on our sessions. It never occurred to me that it was all a joke to him. I was a joke.

  The sun falls from the sky before I return my rented bike, and I’m sure I’ll be back tomorrow before I even leave.

  Day after day, I report to the beach like it’s my new office, without so much as checking my voice mail. Petra and I are barely speaking besides strained pleasantries, but I can’t focus on any of our drama until I’ve worked through my own issues.

  Maybe I’m not supposed to get over Logan. No matter how far I ride, or how long I think, my feelings never fade. Our memories together are still vivid in my mind, and even his true intentions fail to dim their light.

  A full week passes by before I can check in with Melanie for an update on clients. While I’m still not ready to reschedule with previous clients, I refuse to bill Logan. I don’t want his charity.

  He wanted to date, and that’s what he got. I’m not an escort, and I won’t ask him for money when I didn’t do my part professionally. I can sense her fear, probably from Petra being on her back about ‘milking him for money,’ as she continues to mention to me in every passing opportunity, but I’m not budging.

  Melanie reads my messages over the phone. Logan has called countless times, leaving sixteen messages in my seven-day absence. A few clients have called to check availability and expressed their willingness to work around an adjusted schedule on my behalf.

  It all feels like a mess I’m just not ready to face. After instructing her to continue to take messages, while keeping my schedule open, I rent a bicycle and ride until my legs are too weak to pedal any further.

  That night, I sleep like a baby after a week of restlessness. My mind finally finds a peace despite not having it all figured out just yet. It feels good to wake up energized for a change, and stepping out of the shower, I feel ready to take on the world.

  “Ava!” I hear from my bathroom. Peeking my head out of the doorway, Petra calling me like her life depends on it.

  “There’s a courier here!” she yells.

  “Just sign for it.”

  “I can’t. He has your picture. It has to be you!”

  Throwing a sundress on, I run down the steps, my hair still wet from my shower as Petra and the man stand waiting for me, a look of impatience on both of their faces.

  “Hi,” I greet the man standing in our foyer.

  “Ms. Batcher, please sign here,” he hands me a clipboard before removing a manila envelope from his small laptop bag, “here you are.”

  Petra stands still, refusing to excuse herself, so I run back up the stairs, shutting my bedroom door before tearing open the envelope.

  Bennett, Scholtz & Leinett

  426 5th Avenue

  New York NY 10020

  Ms. Ava Batcher

  We represent Mr. Logan Draper, in both corporation and person, and seek to resolve your current and past digressions regarding a misrepresentation on his behalf.

  After thorough research, we have concluded that the Lean In, LLC, where you are a fifty-percent partner, is not only a thriving success in the life-coaching niche, but also a respected entity that Mr. Draper has no intention of negatively affecting.

  Together, we have created what we find to be an amicable resolution on both parts. Mr. Draper has agreed to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement (see attachment one) regarding his time as your client, as well as allowing you full use of his name and likeness regarding the promotion and marketing of your business in any way you see fit.

  In addition to this priceless contribution of goodwill, Mr. Draper has also decided to contribute to your growing business financially, compensating your company the equivalent of two years’ gross income according to your IRS tax filings (see attachment two).

  We all hope this leads to a resolution on your part, as Mr. Draper is sincerely apologetic and immensely regretful for any and all inconveniences, as well as distress (both emotional and physical) his actions may have caused.

  Please contact our offices with any further questions, however, a response on your part is not required or necessary.

  My mouth is dry and my hands tremble uncontrollably as I move between the two other documents, the mentioned non-disclosure agreement and the other a check for more money than I’ve ever seen in my life.

  My heart is racing, blood boiling at his disgusting display of obnoxious wealth, presented as generosity.

  Who the hell does he think he is?

  And even more pressing, who does he think I am? Someone looking for a payout? As if my time or emotions can be bought?

  I’ve yet to bill him for one dime, and have no intention of doing so, but he sends this? Two years of me and Petra’s income combined, as a consolation for ‘any and all inconveniences’ he may have caused?

  Stuffing the letter, along with the non-disclosure agreement and check, into my jewelry box, I stomp through my room, gathering my purse, phone and car keys before running down the steps two at a time, racing out of the house as my anger begins to boil over.

  “Who was that from, Ava?” Petra asks from the dining room, but I have no time to answer any of her questions, my mind is set on getting away from all of this, and making it clear just who I am to the person who needs to know most.

  I’ve played nice, I’ve remained silent, I’ve done everything I thought I could to let this blow over without a fuss. But now it was time for him to be put in his place and I was overly excited to do just that.

  Logan Draper has met his match. I will not be silenced by his money, and I will never allow him to belittle me because his bank account is bigger than mine. I know the real him, regardless of whether he wanted to admit it or not, and I was determined to set him straight.

  Chapter 20

  Logan

  “This is the second plan in two weeks I’ve seen on my desk, and this is even worse than the first. There are only three strikes, Dan,” I growl into my Bluetooth ear piece.

  I’ve been on edge for a week now, and this conference call is seconds away from pushing me over the cliff. With my hand on the annoying ear piece, I take a deep breath, trying not to break a third device in a week, but my temper is through the roof at the smallest of agitations these days.

  Strangely enough, I wish stress was the root cause of my frustration. I’m used to that, and know how to handle a lagging business deal. Fine
ssing a contract was my specialty. I could close a deal in my sleep.

  What I couldn’t handle was avoidance, and that’s what Ava was forcing me to deal with. She’d shut me out. In over a week I haven’t heard a word from her. Rodrick assured me she hasn’t been to her office, which leads me to believe her assistant after she continuously told me she no longer worked at her firm.

  Knowing I could be the reason for her walking away from a field she obviously loved was too much for me to bear.

  She could at least talk to me. Let me know she’s okay. While what I did was far from perfect, it didn’t warrant this type of reaction. Some people would call what I did romantic. I mean, I did take the girl across the world to show her how interested I was, and our time together could never be discounted to anything beneath magical.

  “Did you hear that, Mr. Draper?” Dan’s voice comes through the earpiece as I stand before the wall of windows lining my office, looking out over the busy city.

  “What?” I bark.

  “I said, we can only work with what we have, and you’ve been quite reserved with the authorization of resources for this project.” His response is curt, and far too combative for my liking.

  My jaw is clenched as I prepare for a verbal assault when my office door swings opens, slamming shut just as I turn to the commotion.

  Blinking in disbelief, the real reason Dan is seconds away from being fired stares back at me with as much hostility in her eyes as I feel in my chest.

  Words are unnecessary as Ava’s stance and glare burn through me, but I’m too upset to back down, staring back at her with even more intensity.

  For a split second, her eyes soften, her shoulders slightly relaxing as she continues to silently scold me. Anyone else might have missed it, but I know her enough to tell she’s still affected by me, and before I can second guess it, I walk to her, ending the conference call with a push of a button before throwing it so hard against the wall I hear it shatter behind me.