The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend - Part 1 (The Billionaire Saga)

by Sierra Rose

  “What?” She buried her head in a pillow and giggled furiously. “That’s not a thing.” She resurfaced a moment later, pink-faced and pleased. “But I guess it would never work out between me and the billionaire. What would I tell Barry?”

  “Barry?” I began with confusion. “I thought we didn’t like Barry?”

  She looked shocked. “Why wouldn’t we like Barry?”

  “He came over for breakfast; he fucked with your sleep cycle?”

  Men had been dismissed for far less.

  “We love him.” Her whole face seemed to warm as she said it, and for the first time, I brought myself to attention and took note.

  “Really?” Someone who got the popcorn-under-the-stars love description? I would have to keep track of him. “Okay…Barry.”

  She swooned. “I think I’m in love.”

  Our cat was meowing from beneath an ottoman, and I was seized with a sudden thought.

  “Why did we name him Deevus?” I asked, remembering Marcus’ question.

  Amanda’s face scrunched up in a frown. “I can’t remember. I think we kept saying he was being so devious, when he was hiding behind the refrigerator.” She chewed a mouthful of popcorn contemplatively. “He tried to bite you and scratch me. And then you thought he looked like the devil…”

  I yawned. “That sounds about right.” Slippers flailing, I kicked off the comforter and extracted myself from our little nest. “Well, I have to get to sleep. The billionaire and I are going to a golf tournament tomorrow, and I’m meeting him for breakfast beforehand.”

  She raised her eyebrows and smothered a smile. “The billionaire now, is it? He doesn’t even get a name?”

  “Does he need one? He’s got all those billions,” I said in a joking tone.

  “That’s true. Well, enjoy your golf day—that’s sure to be a nail-biter.”

  I laughed. “A ballbuster, I think they call it.”

  “Wear some plaid.”

  The sun was just started to tint the sky pink as I skipped off to bed, thrilled with the knowledge that my secret was no longer a secret. I’d gotten the one person I needed on board.

  Chapter 15

  “I don’t care what time it is in Switzerland, Billings, just get him on the line!”

  My summons to the Taylor compound had come much earlier than I would have liked. Having gotten only three hours of sleep I was running on fumes, sucking down a cappuccino like a life raft as that demented peacock lurked somewhere in the beyond.

  “I’m sorry, Rebecca.” Marcus held his phone away from his ear and apologized again. “I just have to get a handle on this whole article thing before it spins out of—yes, Billings? I told you I don’t need a translator, just get him on the damn phone!” His tone shifted night and day as he turned back to me. “Would you like a croissant?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I kept my eyes down on the table as I snaked one off a plate and started picking off little bites.

  A copy of Time Magazine lay on the table across between us, a picture of Marcus’ face splashed across the front with the headline, “PARTY LIKE A BILLIONAIRE: How a Business Tycoon Morphed Into a Party Animal.” I looked down at an image of Marcus standing on a yacht surrounded by all kinds of bathing-suit beauties. But Marcus seemed far more concerned with the article himself. I guess he didn’t like the negative spotlight.

  “Fine,” Marcus snapped, “if it’s really so important, I guess he’ll just have to call me back. He’s only my fucking publicist after all.” He clicked off the phone and dropped it on the table in disgust.

  I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. “The Marcus Taylor taking call-backs? Whatever could be more important,” I held the magazine up over my face, “than you?”

  Marcus’ expression was dark. “His wife is having a baby.”

  I tossed down the magazine in disbelief. “And you were seriously trying to get him on the phone?”

  “It’s their second baby. He’s already been there.”

  “Okay.” I avoided eye contact and sipped my coffee, wondering why he’d called me over for a rage-breakfast when we could have just met at the country club.

  “I just can’t believe it,” he ranted on, his gaze fastening once more on the page. “Troublemaker playboy with anger issues?” In a swift move, he kicked a silver mimosa tray halfway across the terrace. “I’ve completely changed my ways!”

  I raised my eyebrows and buried my face in my croissant. “Yeah, they definitely got that wrong.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Clearly, you have some issues to work out. I’m going to meet you at the club, sweetie. If you could just call that butler of yours again to make sure the peacock is wrangled, I can get to my car.”

  “Rebecca.” His hand flashed out to mine. “I’m sorry. Really.”

  My eyes locked on our intertwined fingers as he sighed.

  “There’s so much pressure right now for me to close this deal, but Takahari’s on the fence and stalling. He’s not taking me seriously. I can’t imagine this article will help my image.”

  “Hey.” I cut him off, flashing an unexpectedly warm smile. “That was then, okay? Before you started to turn your image around. Before you started showing up at your own galas and charity events. Before you got this amazing new girlfriend who’s going to make all your wishes come true.”

  His veneer broke, and he offered me a soft smile. “Is that true?” he asked quietly. “Are you going to make all my wishes come true?”

  My heart fluttered nervously, but I shook my head with a stern frown. “Unfortunately for you, that isn’t outlined in my contract. I did, however, think it prudent to throw in the occasional pep talk. For twenty thousand dollars, and all.”

  He laughed aloud. “That’s quite some pep talk.”

  “Just one of my gifts.” I took a huge bite of croissant and surveyed the grounds like a queen. “So what’s it going to be? Just the club today?”

  “Yep—I’m having some clothes delivered for the occasion. We can change here and then drive to get there by eleven.”

  “Clothes?” I repeated carefully. “Like…golf clothes?”

  He paused. “Unless you’ve already got something you’d like to wear.”

  “I’ve got an argyle onesie that I think would be appropriate.” When he said nothing, I flipped up the magazine and surveyed the photograph again with a frown. “Were you on vacation?”

  “I’d closed a major deal. I was celebrating in Hawaii.”

  “You look nice,” I said. “Very happy and carefree. Lots of women.”

  “I was pretty drunk when that picture was taken. It was a private photo. I have no idea how the magazine even got it.”

  “I’m sure somebody snapped a quick pic on their phone. Sold it for thousands.”

  “I don’t want to be that man anymore, Rebecca. I’ve quit drinking and partying like that.”

  “You don’t have to explain your lifestyle to me. That’s the best thing about a fake girlfriend. You can do whatever you want and I won’t be mad or judge your actions. See? You should have gotten me years ago.”

  He chuckled, then looked off. “I really want to be a better man.”

  “I’ve learned firsthand that no matter how many things I alter in my life, I’ll never be the perfect woman. All of us will make mistakes, give in to weaknesses, and stumble from time to time. We’re only human. But, with enough focus, we can really work hard to make improvements over time.”

  “And that’s what I hope to do.”

  “What’s truly important to you as a man? Simply ask yourself, what’s truly important to you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe work. I’d have to really think about that.”

  “If nothing’s coming to you, don’t worry. Just keep thinking. I’ll ask you later. Just be completely honest.”

  “Right off the bat, do you see any strengths in me?” he asked.

  I peered at him for a moment, an
d then responded. “You don’t give up. You don’t crumble under pressure. Instead, you stay strong and climb the necessary obstacles on your path to achieve success.”

  “Thank you, Rebecca.”

  “How about me? Anything particular stick out?”

  He smiled. “Absolutely. Your strengths are compassion, empathy, and a caring nature. I’ve seen you in action at the hospice center. The residents speak very highly of you. One time, you called off when I was there for a meeting. Mrs. Harkson refused to let anyone take care of her but you. She was screaming your name in the lobby and refused all care.”

  “Thanks, Marcus for the sweet compliments. And I love Mrs. Harkson. She’s the nicest lady ever.”

  I talked about my job and Marcus didn’t get annoyed like most guys did. It was refreshing. I told him all about my patients and how much I enjoyed my job. He thought it was sweet how I spent my own money to buy patients the extra stuff they wanted. I even bought Mrs. Zacks a cheeseburger meal for lunch. She said it was her biggest dream. So I went and got her “biggest dream.” Her eyes widened and I’d never seen somebody so happy. If I could make one person happy for just a moment, then that made me happy. We laughed and talked for hours.

  Three hours and six combined coffees later, we were pulling into the club.

  “Okay, let’s recap.” Marcus leaned across the limo and straightened my ponytail. I wondered if this “casual touch” thing was as strange for him as it was for me. If he found it at all unusual, he certainly wasn’t letting on. “First thing, we find Mr. Takahari and invite him to a game. Then I’ll—”

  “No,” I interrupted, “that’s not what we agreed.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “All right. First thing, we find you a bathroom, then we find Mr. Takahari.”

  “And I will charm him with my stunning wit.”

  “Then I’ll spin a casual conversation into an investment pitch somewhere between the eighth and ninth hole…”

  “…while I’ll be guzzling cosmos and showing off my new bracelet.”

  I grinned happily and jiggled it around my wrist so it could catch the sun. The only diamonds I’d ever worn were a pair of my mother’s earrings that she loaned me for my college graduation. But according to Marcus, “cocktails and gemstones” were the foundations upon which the “sport” of golf was built. On the way to the club, he’d stopped at Tiffany’s and I’d gotten to browse around and select anything I liked. I had gone with a gorgeous laced tennis bracelet—half to show solidarity with my favorite sport (which was actually a sport), half because I literally gasped when I saw it. My only condition was that we return it the next day. Marcus had protested endlessly, but I couldn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, reconcile a diamond bracelet being part of him “covering expenses.” No—the fairy tale ended at noon, and my sparkling new toy turned back into a hospice ID band.

  But until then…no reason I couldn’t flaunt it a little…

  Marcus’ nervous face actually broke into a smile, as he watched me twisting my arm in the sunbeams, scattering bits of light in a haloed circle around us.

  “I really wish you’d let me just get that for you.”

  I shook my head and smoothed the skirt of my white, starched cocktail dress. “No, ‘cause then the next day you’ll be like, ‘where are my diamonds, don’t I get diamonds too?’ And then what would I do? It’s an endless cycle. Best to just head it off at the pass.”

  When his eye fixed on mine, I couldn’t tell if they were catching the light from my bracelet or if they were really just that sparkling. Either way, they held me momentarily in place.

  “I’ve never met a girl who would turn down diamonds.”

  I broke our gaze with a shrug. “I’ve never met a guy whose morning ritual was to scream at Geneva, but we all have our quirks, don’t we?” As the driver opened the door, I slid gracefully out of the car, keeping a careful hand on the hem of my skirt as I climbed past him. “And on that note, Marcus, I have to be honest with you.”

  He slid out next to me and froze obediently as I straightened his collar.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve discovered about you in our short time together, it’s this…”

  A dozen flashbulbs went off, and we automatically posed, continuing to talk through perfect, pasted smiles.

  “You’re not what the press makes you out to be. You’ve won me over with your kind and loving heart. Meeting you at that little coffee shop was fate.”

  He smiled.

  He had the most amazing smile I’d ever seen. And he was smiling at me…

  Chapter 16

  After what seemed like an eternity, we finally made it through the lines of press and strolled, arm in arm, into the country club. It looked exactly how I imagined it from seeing mock representations in a dozen movies and shows. Only this time the stakes were real, the prices were high, and the looks I was getting from the other women were nothing short of scathing.

  “The powder room is right over there,” Marcus murmured, gesturing with one hand while keeping the other on the small of my back.

  I eyed the murderous faces of the harpies between us with dread. “Just a friendly observation,” I whispered back, “saying words like ‘powder room,’ it’s kind of old-fashioned. And I want to keep you hip, Mr. Billionaire.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to whisper something equally cutting, but I quickly detached myself and breezed away. When I found him again a few minutes later, he was standing in front of the wall-to-wall windows, holding two drinks. One was something clear and deadly; the other was fruity and shockingly pink.

  I opted for the latter, sipped it gratefully as my eyes darted around the room. No, I wasn’t imagining it. These women were hating on me for real. But it wasn’t like they’d been gunning for Marcus—they’d all already come here with someone else. I didn’t understand.

  “Do you know how silly I felt ordering that?” Marcus asked, eying the oversized umbrella with disdain. “Men don’t order pink drinks.”

  I grinned and held it up. “Try it, you’ll definitely like it.”

  “I’m not trying that.”

  “Why, ’cause it isn’t single malt?” I lowered my voice theatrically, and his stern demeanor cracked again in a boyish smile.

  “Is that really how I sound to you?”

  “Try my drink and I’ll tell you.”

  His eyes flashed down to mine, but before he could say anything, my face brightened with a welcoming smile.

  “Mr. Takahari!” I greeted him. “It’s so good to see you again!”

  “Rebecca.” He opened his arms, and I ducked inside for a quick but warm embrace. “I’m pleased that you accepted my invitation.”

  “Well, you know this one.” I cocked my head toward Marcus and rolled my eyes. “If I hadn’t insisted we go out, he’d still be on the couch, drooling over the stock exchange.”

  Takahari roared with laughter, but this time, I was wise enough to take a step back. “And what is that you’re drinking?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never seen anything like that here.”

  “It’s some mango-strawberry-vodka extravagance. Want to try?” I offered it to him and he took a huge gulp.

  “That’s quite delicious. And surprisingly strong.” He turned to one of his henchmen and muttered something in Japanese. A moment later, the man appeared with another. “Now Rebecca, will you and Marcus do me the honor of accompanying me on the green today?”

  Oh, shit…that was seriously deviating from the plan. Not to mention, I’d never swung a golf club in my life.

  “I think I’m going to stay here and guard the bar,” I said quickly, “but I’m sure Marcus would love to go.”

  Marcus stepped forward, but Takahari held up his hand. “Nonsense! You are both my guests today. I require both of you. Now come, we’ll get you fitted with some clubs.”

  He headed out without another word, leaving us no choice but to follow. And while Marcus strutted confidently after him, I discree
tly clawed at his arm.

  “Wait,” I whispered in a rush, “I can’t do this.”

  He guided me through the crowd of people, never breaking his stride. “Is this like dancing again?”

  “No, much worse.” I had to make him believe me. “Marcus, I’ve never played golf in my entire life—I don’t even know the rules.”

  “It’s pretty simple.” We got to some sort of armory, and he loaded up two bags with clubs. “You try to sink the ball into the hole, as quickly as possible.” I bit my lip and he held up a pre-emptive hand. “If you’re about to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke, this isn’t the place—”

  “No, I’m being serious.” I grabbed his arm and he finally paused. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t want to mess this up for you. I know how you people seem to take golf really seriously…”

  His face softened, and before I knew what was happening, he leaned down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I stared up in surprise. We were standing by ourselves on the patio. No one was watching, were they?

  “You’re not going to mess anything up,” he promised. Then he straightened out with a wink. “Besides…I can teach you how to swing.”

  I closed my eyes with a grimace as Takahari spotted us and headed our way. “Fine,” I muttered under my breath, “but I better be allowed to drive the golf cart.”

  As it turned out, I absolutely was not allowed to drive the cart. Nor was I allowed to hide discreetly behind Marcus as Takahari insisted that he and I were partners (did golf have partners?) and forced me to walk with him up ahead. Before the first hole, Marcus did teach me how to swing, but I swear, the entire experience left me more flustered than before.

  “You just grip it loosely along the ridges here.” His body curved up behind mine, and I felt myself overheating despite the cool breeze. “Then twist from your hips to follow through.”

  I gave it my best. “Like that?”

  His chest shook as he chuckled silently behind me. “Have you even seen this done before?”

  I twisted my head with a glare. “The only time I paid attention to a golf swing was when it decapitated a person in the season finale of CSI.”