The Billionaire’s Sham Girlfriend: The Beaumont Brothers Book One

by Leslie North

They kissed for what felt like eons, each one better than the last. When Gregor’s phone rang, he moaned through the kiss, breaking apart reluctantly.

  “I’m not getting it,” he mumbled as he fished for the phone. He silenced it and tossed it aside. Kara couldn’t help but notice the caller name.

  “Isn’t ‘Nana’ someone you should answer, though?” she said, her voice sounding a million miles away. The man’s kisses had robbed her of her faculties.

  Gregor sighed, turning to face the phone. He snatched it up before it kicked over to voicemail. “Hello?”

  Kara watched as his expression went from curious to tight and then surprised. “What a grand surprise,” he said, eyes darting across the room. “You can’t be serious?”

  Another pause as his grandmother spoke on the other end. Gregor let out a small noise, eyebrows knit. Then his gaze swung her way. Just from the energy shift at his side, she could tell there was something strained in his relationship with his grandmother.

  “Yes, yes. The flight out isn’t until Tuesday. I think that could work.”

  Another pause.

  “Of course. She would love to meet you, too.”

  Kara’s stomach dropped.

  “Yes, Nana. Sounds delightful. We’ll see you then.” Gregor swiped the phone off and pocketed it, an expectant silence in the air. He drew a breath before searching out her gaze.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he spoke. “My grandmother, as I’m sure you surmised. She heard about my win today and also found out about you.” A tentative smile quirked his lips. “She’s on her way to Barcelona to meet us for dinner tomorrow.”

  Kara blinked a few times, letting the news settle in before reacting. Meeting the family…of course it would come. She just hadn’t thought so soon.

  “Isn’t she in England?”

  “Oh yes, but it’s only a two-hour flight.”

  Lord have mercy. Kara doubted her own grandmother would take a flight for even the direst circumstances…much less for an impromptu dinner. “Well, that’s awesome…right?”

  Gregor gave a strained laugh. “Sure. Except my grandmother is the one we have to convince. And I’d hoped to have some more time with you before bringing her into the picture.”

  More time with you. The words made her feel warm, even though she didn’t want them to. The kiss still lingered in the back of her mind as something they needed to return to. And maybe add hands to the mix. Lots of touching, even. But why? They proved they could execute a successful kiss—it was established. No need to do more of it.

  Except you’d love to do more of it, as much as possible, as frequently as possible.

  She forced her gaze off his lips, like maybe that would help curb the desire. “She’ll be convinced. Don’t you worry. We’ll get our story straight tonight, be practiced by tomorrow.” She flashed what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “Right. Well let’s get started then.” Gregor tossed the phone aside, sending a lightning bolt of hope through her. Get started on kissing again? “Any preference for where we met?”

  She tried hard not to be disappointed that he wasn’t as eager to pick up their sexy thread but reminded herself that this was a job. Whatever fluttering, hopeful, sinuous sensation that lurked whenever Gregor came near her was her imagination and had nothing to do with how he actually felt about her.

  He sees you as a costar. Nothing more.

  She’d fight to remember that, too.

  The evening passed quickly between hilarious brainstorming rounds of their relationship details and plenty of quizzing on the newly established past. They went to bed early, without return to the passionate kisses, and spent the next day lazily picking at breakfast, chatting, and reviewing their notes while Wedding Crashers played on mute in the background.

  It was the kind of day Kara wouldn’t mind having frequently in her life. She and Gregor had developed an easiness around each other that defied circumstance and rationale. She admired things about him, like the way he lounged on the couch, his feet tapping out an invisible rhythm whenever he got lost in thought. Or the way he tugged at the front of his hair just before an exclamation, like it was a requisite part of revelation.

  By the time dinner rolled around, Kara felt both confident and woozy, like she’d aced her dress rehearsal but topped it off with a shot of whiskey. Meeting his grandmother was a milestone, one of the most important scenes in the overall show of their relationship. If things got off to a rocky start here—like in the winner’s circle yesterday—then she might as well back out. If Nana didn’t buy it, none of this mattered.

  Gregor compulsively adjusted his jacket cuffs on the way to dinner, though he wouldn’t admit that he was nervous. His grandmother had selected an upscale restaurant tucked away in the heart of Las Ramblas, and when they walked into the tightly packed place, a hostess led them to their seats. Nana was at ten o’clock, sitting alone at a table set for three tucked into a corner of the restaurant.

  Fuck. Kara’s stomach plummeted while she amped up her smile, squeezing Gregor’s hand as they neared. His grandmother stood as they approached, her lips pressed into a wide, unwavering smile. She wore her gray hair pulled back into a neat bun, and her navy-blue two-piece suit didn’t show a single wrinkle. The epitome of proper English grandmother.

  “Nana.” Gregor kissed her cheek before sweeping a hand toward Kara. “Please, let me introduce you to Kara. My girlfriend.”

  Kara offered a bright smile and a firm handshake. Nana’s sharp gaze traveled over her, smarting like a whip.

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” Kara said, her voice sticking in her throat.

  “A pleasure, I’m sure,” Nana murmured, her cool, bony hand squeezing Kara’s only once before slipping away. “Shall we eat?”

  Kara glanced at Gregor, trying to discern whether she’d been rebuffed or not. That greeting was icy cold…and now, Nana was back in her seat, looking at the menu with a plasticized expression that betrayed nothing.

  “Excellent. Please, Kara, allow me.” Gregor pulled out her chair and they sat, Kara’s back as rigid as an arrow. She rested an elbow on the edge of the table, smoothing back her hair, then caught a stern look from Nana. Shit. No elbows on the table. Don’t you remember etiquette? She cleared her throat, smoothing her hands over her slate gray skirt. What was she supposed to do with her hands?

  “Your grandfather would have been proud of your win yesterday, Gregor.” Nana’s face hinted at a smile. “We’re all so proud of you.”

  Gregor smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Nana.”

  “I’m proud of him too.” Kara reached for his hand under the table, giving it a damp squeeze. “You’ve been working so hard on that engine.”

  “Poor Kara. Barely gets to see me with how much I’m in the garage,” Gregor said with a small laugh.

  “But the important part is that I do get to see you eventually,” Kara said, glancing at Nana. She watched them with the impassivity of a hawk. “It’s a small sacrifice for your passion.”

  Gregor smiled at her, and for a moment she forgot this was a performance. The way that smile sucked her in, those sparkling blue eyes making her chest tight…it was easy to fall into a Gregor trance. The warmth of his hand around hers was a powerful anchor. One that made her miss their incredibly sultry-eyed waitress sending warm looks toward Gregor.

  “I see the family is together. What can I bring for drinks?” The thick Spanish accent jostled Kara back to reality. The dark-haired waitress batted her eyelashes toward Gregor.

  Both Nana and Gregor ordered sparkling water so Kara followed suit. The waitress barely looked away from Gregor. Does this man enchant women everywhere he goes?

  The thought lurked heavily in her mind as dinner ground forward. The three of them fell into a polite if awkward conversation, Kara feeling like she was at least hitting all the marks in affection and attention. But between the openly appreciative waitress and the stony-faced gra
ndmother, Kara was sweating underneath her perfectly poised persona.

  When the doe-eyed waitress offered Gregor fresh ground cheese for his rigatoni, Kara leaned in to take the lead.

  “Yes, please, load him up. My man loves his cheese.” Kara squeezed Gregor’s hand. He stiffened underneath her.

  “Gregor—?” began Nana.

  “No cheese for me,” Gregor said quickly, waving off the waitress. She offered him a pouty, prolonged look before sidling away. Nana cast a sharp look toward Kara, one that almost drew blood. Clearly she’d stepped in it. She just didn’t know how.

  “I’ve been tweaking my diet recently, Nana,” Gregor began. “It’s been going well.”

  “You know you shouldn’t have cheese, darling,” Nana said, her top lip firm.

  Oh God. Kara took a sip of her water, struggling to think back on something she may have missed.

  “Your constitution doesn’t support the lactose,” Nana went on, sipping demurely at her lobster soup. “And hopefully your partner would support that about you as well.”

  Ouch. Kara sent a stricken look to Gregor.

  “This has been my decision, Nana,” Gregor said stiffly. “Kara understands that some days are better than others, and…” he trailed off, folding up his napkin. “Anyway, we’ve been eating in more often. Excuse me, I forgot to wash my hands before dinner. I’ll be back.”

  Gregor stood, squeezing Kara’s shoulder before he walked away. Kara gave a nervous laugh while she poked at her chicken scaloppini.

  “He’s been adventurous recently,” Kara added lamely, trying to feign some sort of background knowledge to his mysterious aversion. “I really just try to feed him as many leafy greens and nuts as I possibly can.”

  Nana sniffed. “He’s always been so sensitive to nuts, as well.”

  Kara’s stomach tightened and she clamped her mouth shut. Don’t dig this hole deeper. After a tense moment of silence, broken only by their sipping and chewing, Kara looked around for Gregor. The ninety seconds he’d been gone was an eternity. What could she talk about with this woman, other than the polite topics they’d already covered? Maybe you could mention one more thing that’s mortally forbidden for him to consume. That would be fun.

  Gregor strode forward from the back corner of the restaurant, the moody sconces on the walls illuminating him as if he were a god descended from his throne. Kara smiled, couldn’t even help it, really, and noticed that Nana watched as well. Enchants even his own grandmother.

  As Gregor headed back for the table, their busty waitress intercepted him. Dragged a hand up the length of his arm, cocking her head inquisitively as she asked him something that got swallowed up in the chatter of the restaurant. Kara froze, smile stuck to her face, as she watched the interaction. This looked like something much more intimate that simply checking on drinks or dinner quality.

  The waitress’s giggle seared through the air straight to Kara’s ears and her nostrils flared. Oh, hell no. The waitress’s hand slid down to Gregor’s, but he shook it off and then walked away. When his gaze met hers, she jerked her eyes to her plate. Her racing pulse was an embarrassment, somehow. It betrayed something she didn’t want to know.

  That you actually want Gregor for yourself.

  As Gregor rejoined the table, Nana looked oddly satisfied. And when Kara met her gaze a moment later, she swore the old lady gave her a nod of approval.

  8

  “So, Mr. Beaumont? All fine when you turn this way, too?”

  The doctor’s thick Italian accent was almost comical. He’d been staring intensely at Gregor’s retinas, trying to determine if the wreck he’d been involved in during his trial run was as serious as everyone seemed to think.

  “Oh yes. Tip top.” Gregor blinked against the light, wondering when the inquisition would end. He’d damaged the car. Badly. And maybe he’d lost consciousness for a few seconds after the wreck. But he’d been able to walk away, and he felt fine now. It was more important to get back to ironing out these engine kinks. Before the big race, where the outcome truly mattered.

  “You must be careful,” tutted the doctor, scribbling something on his pad. They’d been in Italy since the day after that painful dinner with his Nana. Kara had been none too happy that he’d hidden his lactose and nut intolerances from her, but it was something he never got around to telling women. He didn’t have girlfriends. He barely had flings. Gregor did one-night stands, so what was the point of outing his physical sensitivities?

  Besides, he’d been secretly worried Kara might laugh or coo in sympathy at him, or something equally belittling. How she viewed him was important. A little bit too important for his taste anymore.

  A week and one country later, Gregor felt more married than he’d ever planned for himself. He’d never imagined spending so much time with one, just one, woman. Who would know about his inability to digest milk-based products and meet his grandmother and survive to tell the tale. A woman he couldn’t even touch, despite the endless barrage of fantasies he entertained.

  Yet here he was, almost three weeks into the plan, and it still felt like the right choice.

  It felt like something more than the right choice, actually, but he didn’t like to think about that too much.

  “No lady come to take you home?” The doctor winked exaggeratedly while he knocked on both of Gregor’s knees with a tiny mallet.

  “She doesn’t know I’m here,” Gregor said, his breath catching when the doctor pressed the cold stethoscope to his chest. “I don’t want her to be worried. Because I’m fine.”

  “Yes, yes, fine, fine.” The doctor nodded, brow furrowing as he listened. “No talk now.”

  Gregor studied the far wall as the noise of the hospital thrummed softly beyond the closed door of the examination room. Machines beeping from somewhere; footsteps scuffing. An angry American voice, rising above the quiet.

  Gregor furrowed his brow, listening carefully.

  The doctor harrumphed. “Your heart rate picked up.”

  “I think—” Gregor began, but the next moment the doorknob turned and Kara stepped in, followed by a very sheepish looking Christian.

  “There you are!” Kara sounded out of breath, like she’d been running the halls looking for him. “What the fuck happened to you?”

  The doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Your lady is here!”

  Gregor couldn’t ignore the way his heart rate spiked when Kara walked in. He hoped the doctor didn’t make an embarrassing comment about it. “Kara, what are you doing here?”

  “Trying to figure out why the hell you’re in a hospital and no one thought to tell me!”

  “How did you find out?”

  She scoffed, so emphatically that his gut told him she wasn’t faking it. More and more he got the sense that she wasn’t performing. “Christian called to let me know you wouldn’t be getting back to me—”

  “Gregor, I tried,” Christian protested.

  “But that was fishy as hell so I dug a little deeper,” Kara went on.

  “She forced it out of me,” Christian said.

  Gregor tried to look as irritated as he wanted to feel, but he couldn’t hide the smile. Somehow, it was flattering that Kara cared.

  “Fine. Will you leave us be?” He looked at Christian and jerked his chin toward the door. Kara sat in the chair at the side of the exam room, her arms crossed defiantly.

  “You don’t have to send people to lie to me, you know,” she said in a low voice, glancing at the doctor. After a moment she said, “I’m sorry, doctor, to interrupt. I’m Kara Alerby, his girlfriend.”

  The doctor released a rich belly laugh. “Oh yes, I know by now!”

  Gregor felt his cheeks heat up. “I didn’t want to worry you. It wasn’t a bad crash.”

  “Wasn’t a bad crash? Christ, Gregor, I saw a picture of what happened to your car!”

  “Those things crumple like paper,” he said, but paused when he saw her face darken. “I mean, they’re not unsafe. Crumpling a
bsorbs the shock. I’m more protected than the US president in there, I assure you. All I’m saying is that it looks much worse than it was. And I’ve been in plenty of crashes to know.”

  Kara sighed, resting her temple against her fingers. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  Gregor watched her as the doctor finished up with his exam. A moment later, he clapped his hands and exclaimed, “Exam is finished! You are fine.”

  “See there. Perfectly fine.” Gregor sent Kara a reassuring smile, unnerved by the way his heart resumed jack-rabbit speeds when Kara stood and reached for his hand. He felt like a school boy around her recently. Ever since that goddamned kiss he hadn’t been able to reproduce. Kara seemed to sidestep him whenever he started throwing hints. And the more he was alone with her, the more he fantasized about peeling her clothes off, learning the curves of her body, tasting more of those fragrant, soft kisses.

  They walked toward the front of the hospital hand in hand. Gregor watched her for a moment before saying, “I didn’t want to disturb you, really. I know you’ve been doing so much work with the school planning.”

  Kara shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I need to know.”

  She really cares about you. The thought resonated strangely inside of him. “Did you get work done today then?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve been figuring out the pay rates for the teachers I plan to hire. How I’d like to set all that up…what sort of hiring schedule I’ll adopt.”

  “Brilliant. And Lexie is managing okay back home with the classes?”

  “They miss me, but they’re doing just fine.” Kara flashed a smile. “I guess nobody can really object when a British boyfriend whisks someone away unexpectedly.”

  Gregor slipped his arm around her waist, cinching her close to him. She fit like a glove he never wanted to take off. “They won’t complain when they know what you have in store for them.”

  “I haven’t revealed my plans yet. Not to anyone.” She sent him a mysterious look. “I want to make sure I have everything set before I tell the world. I’m not big on falling flat on my face. I gotta make sure this succeeds.”