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

by Sierra Rose

  “Well, for starters, so-called nice fellows are hard to come by these days.” As much as I loved my dad, I didn’t appreciate his constant reminders of my nonexistent love life and the slew of bad dates I’ve had. Who has time to date anyway? I asked myself. I was far too overworked and stressed out for that.

  “Well, there’s this really nice male nurse, and he—”

  “Dad, please don’t tell me you’re trying to set me up.”

  “He works in the morning.”

  “Dad, no.” I smiled. “Okay, I have to go.”

  He grinned back at me, then poked his overdone chicken again. “You can’t possibly leave me to eat burnt rubber. If I bite into this thing, I’ll need dental surgery next.”

  I let out a sigh. “I suppose I can try and whip something up for you and bring it back.”

  He smirked at the notion, knowing I was no Julia Child.

  “But we both know it’ll be worse than this,” I said. “Like I always say, I only have a kitchen because it came with my apartment.”

  We both burst into laughter.

  “My poor cat eats table scraps, and she’s only got about three more lives left,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Last time, you used the smoke alarm as a cooking timer.”

  I cleared my throat. “Um, I threw that meal out. And yes, my trashcans are properly labeled with biohazard stickers.”

  He let out a loud, deep laugh that jiggled the metal railing on his bed. “You know what I’m craving?” he said.

  “What?”

  “A big, fat, juicy Whopper from Burger King.”

  “Hmm. Well, I can run through the drive-thru and—”

  “Drive-thru? What for? It’s beautiful outside, and I’d love to get out and enjoy some of that fresh spring air.”

  “You want me to take you there?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re hooked up to oxygen.”

  He shot me the puppy eyes and stuck his bottom lip out, just like I used to do to him when I was little and wanted something.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “That I’m just like Mom. She didn’t have a spontaneous bone in her body.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said softly.

  “No, but you’re thinking it.”

  He smirked.

  I laughed. “Hey, I’m spontaneous. I took a chance and wore this bright red blouse, even though spring is for pastels. My hair’s in a bun instead of a French braid. I totally made up my mind at the very last minute. Maybe I’m not all spur-of-the-moment like you, but I’m getting there.”

  “Well, adventure is like fine wine or aged cheese, an acquired taste. Honey, life is short, and moments are fleeting. We have to take risks, just go out there and grab the bull by the horns. If you don’t, you end up with the end of the bull where the crap comes out, and who needs more bullcrap?”

  I laughed; my father had a way with words, and I liked to think I’d inherited some of it. “So taking you to the burger joint is grabbing the bull by the horns?”

  “You might not be spontaneous, but I know you can’t resist a challenge.”

  My gaze narrowed as he played another angle. “What’s up your sleeve?”

  “I challenge you to sneak me outta here for a burger run.”

  “You’ve doubled up on the pain patches, haven’t you?”

  He laughed.

  “You’re right. I can’t resist a dare,” I said, “but you also know I won’t break the rules.”

  His green eyes blazed.

  “Hmm. Maybe rules are meant to be broken, Dad, but I’m sure you didn’t think that when I broke curfew after prom.”

  “That was ages ago, and I didn’t want you being so wild and reckless then.”

  “But it’s okay to be wild and reckless now?”

  “You’re twenty-three, a grown woman, and I’m a grown man. I want a burger, and it’s my constitutional right to have one, right?”

  “I’m not sure I ever read anything in the Bill of Rights about Burger King, Dad.”

  “Touché.”

  “You just love constant adventure,” I said. “It’s an adrenaline rush to you.”

  “Yup. Always have and always will. These days, I can’t go cliff-diving or dive with the sharks, so I’ll have to get my kicks sneaking out for fast food. Now let’s go.”

  I picked up my cell phone and called a taxi to meet us out front. I then hooked a green oxygen tank to his wheelchair. “Okay. Spontaneous it is,” I said. “You climbed Mt. Everest, so I guess there’s no keeping you down.”

  “Onward and forward!” he yelled as I quickly pushed him down the hall.

  Chapter 4

  I had to laugh as I rolled my father down the corridor in his wheel chair while he shouted, “Woo-hoo!” It was really like one of those beautiful, triumphant moments in an ABC Family movie. I moved at a sprint, elated and delighted at an odd sense of freedom that overcame me. I had to admit that being spontaneous felt more wonderful.

  “Lookin’ good, Bill,” said an older woman with a scarf over her head. “Got good results from that test this mornin’, I take it.”

  I looked at my dad, surprised that he hadn’t mentioned it to me. “Dad, did the tests come back today?”

  The band on his arm set off the alarm at the door, and I bit my lip as two orderlies rushed toward us.

  “Busted,” I said.

  “Quick! Make a break for it,” my dad said.

  With my rebel of a father cheering me on, I pushed him to the waiting taxi. I packed up the wheelchair and got him squared away. As soon as I slid into the taxi beside him, I asked again, “Well? What did the tests show?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about that right now,” he said. “I’ll fill you in after dinner.”

  “Okay,” I said, assuming by his beaming face that the results must have been pretty positive.

  “Can you believe they put that wander guard on me?” he said. “I’m not gonna run away.”

  The taxi driver smiled and said in broken English. “Um, is you not doing this now?”

  We both burst out in laughter.

  “You know what I mean,” he said. “I’m not a flight risk. Besides, this is their fault. If they wouldn’t serve me hockey pucks for dinner, I wouldn’t have to go out to get a decent meal.”

  My dad wasn’t usually a complainer, but I was sure the stress of being away from home was just getting to him. The meals at the nursing home had been horrendous lately, as the new cook they’d hired was only one step above me on the scale of culinary chaos.

  My dad started to fuss with the wander guard on his ankle. “Darn it. I’m not a federal prisoner, and I’m sick of them treating me like one.”

  I tried to calm him down. “They put it on because you were confused after the chemo and kept trying to leave. I agreed because I didn’t want you getting into trouble or hurting yourself. I love you, Dad, and I didn’t want—”

  “To see me get run over?”

  “Well, you did walk into traffic,” I said softly.

  “My mind was all cloudy from all those drugs, but I’m better now. They took me off those real strong painkillers, and I won’t take the other ones they keep trying to force-feed me.”

  “But you need pain medicine,” I said. “There’s no shame in that. You’re sick, Dad, and you don’t have to be Mr. Tough Guy all the time.”

  “I can take pain. I’d rather be alert and have my mind.”

  “I’ll talk to them about removing that thing from your ankle.”

  “How about we stop by Home Depot?” he said. “A wire-cutter or a hacksaw’s only a couple bucks.”

  I chuckled. “Dad! This little adventure is supposed to be about burgers.”

  He chuckled as we pulled up next to Burger King. “Just kidding. Besides, all I need is a good pair of scissors, which we can get at your place, right? I’m not a wild animal or some sort of little punk under house arrest.”

  “Forget the scissors
, Dad. I promised you burgers and burgers only,” I said sweetly.

  “You’re stubborn, just like—”

  “My old man.”

  He grinned at me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Okay. Stay here,” I said. “I’ll run in and get us some burgers and fries.”

  “Get me a—”

  “I know, I know. A Whopper with the works,” I said, knowing him all too well.

  “Right, and get Ed one too.”

  “Ed?”

  “Me,” the taxi driver said.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I said, blushing a bit.

  “Don’t you remember, dear? He said he’s famished from pulling a double-shift. The least we can do is feed our getaway driver.”

  “You’re right. What do you want, Ed?”

  “I take Whopper, two, with extra lettuce, no pickle. I like hot fries, big Coke with no ice. Ice cream shake, the pink kind. Extra napkins too. Don’t like to get my wheel sticky.”

  “A pink shake?” I smiled. “Okay.”

  My dad insisted on paying, even though I argued about it. I took the wad of cash from him and went inside to wait in a huge line. A short while later, I hopped in the back seat with bags full of food.

  “I’m so thirsty,” Ed said, grabbing the Coke and guzzling it.

  “Glad we could help you out,” I said, smiling at him.

  Dad asked him to drive us to Central Park, and we found the perfect place to sit, where we could enjoy a wonderful, spontaneous meal. We ate, talked, and laughed. In the back of my mind, the article deadline was screaming at me, but spending time with my father was far more important.

  “I’m gonna learn how to cook,” I said. “When I do, you’ll have to come over for a wonderful home-cooked meal.”

  “You make wonderful…eggs,” he teased.

  “Yeah, but that’s about it. I always wanted to be in the kitchen with Mom, but I didn’t learn much.”

  “Well, she put that big, ruffled apron on you and sat you up on the counter to stir the eggs. At least you learned that, and you looked pretty stylish in the process.”

  “Yeah, I’d stir and stir and stir. I felt so important, like I was really helping.”

  He smiled at the memory. “Sometimes, just being with someone is the best help you can give, honey.”

  Suddenly, the smile left his face, and he grew quiet, just twirling a fry around in his puddle of ketchup. I couldn’t help but feel something was wrong, so I cocked a brow and asked, “Dad, what’s wrong?”

  He looked away.

  I softly nudged him. “What is it, Dad? Aren’t you still on an adrenaline high from breaking out?”

  He didn’t answer or even crack a smile and just continued mindlessly twirling the fry into a tomatoey mess.

  “Okay, you’re scaring me.”

  He dropped the fry and looked up at me, long and hard. “You know me so well. I can never hide anything from you.”

  “You know you can tell me anything.”

  “I’ve got bad news, baby girl.”

  I swallowed hard. “What is it?” I asked, fearing the answer.

  “Dr. Langard went over my test results with me.”

  “And?”

  “The cancer’s spread,” he said, his voice wavering. “It can’t be stopped. He said I’ve got less than four months to live.”

  My jaw dropped at the sound of the grim prognosis, and tears welled in my eyes as I tried to process the most horrible words in the entire human language. Suddenly, the world seemed devoid of color or laughter. I tried to hide the pain, but I couldn’t. I lost it as tears flooded my eyes and fell down my face in bitter rivers that threatened to drown me. How can fate do this to me a second time? I wondered as the waves of sorrow crashed against me like angry waves in a violent storm.

  “What?” I muttered, in absolute shock. “F-Four months?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t take chemo today. That’s why I was able to eat. The oncologist says things aren’t good. The only remaining measures are palliative.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning the chemo is pointless.”

  “Because it didn’t work,” I said dully.

  “All it did was make me feel sick all the time. It didn’t shrink the tumors. I’m a lucky man, though, Julia. Don’t ever doubt that. I’ve had a wonderful life, married the most amazing woman who ever lived, been fortunate enough to raise a beautiful girl, to watch you grow up into an extraordinary young woman. Not to sound all Frank Sinatra about it, but I lived life on my own terms, did things my way. I found my own path and lived my own life the way I saw fit. My biggest regret, my only one apart from not knowing the winning lotto numbers, is that I won’t get to dance with you at your wedding. I won’t get to see you all dolled up in a bridal gown and twirl you around like I used to when you were a kid.”

  “I loved dancing with you, Daddy. Those were some of my favorite times. Dance with me now. I can pull up any song you want, right here on my phone,” I said, holding my hand out to my favorite leading man and choking up as the words spilled out of me.

  “No, not here, honey. I have something else in mind, something better. I can’t arrange a marriage for you, and I won’t be around to make sure you’ve got the love of a good man who appreciates you, but I want to see you in the dress and dance with you, make one more memory with my little girl before I check out. Your grandma says I put too much pressure on you, still try to boss you around.”

  “Sensible woman, my grandma,” I said, trying to muster a smile that wouldn’t come.

  “Now’s not the time for sense. It’s time for sentiment. I’m looking at a pine box and a hole, kiddo, so indulge me.”

  “Damn it. You had to bring up the box and the hole, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the only ace I’ve got up my sleeve, a little gallows humor. Do this for me, sweetheart. Humor your dear old dad.”

  “You know I’d do anything for you, Daddy.”

  “So give me this. Let’s have a wedding reception, with all the trimmings. I saved up for your real wedding, but hell, I say we blow it all on this party.”

  “I won’t have you doing that. I know the medical bills have—”

  “I have life insurance, Julia. It’ll clear all that. I didn’t pay into it for thirty years to leave my loved ones with bills. It’s taken care of. There aren’t many bills left for me to rack up at this rate anyway. I don’t see any plastic shopping sprees in my very short future.”

  “You’re killing me with this,” I protested.

  “Poor choice of words,” he said with a wheezy laugh.

  I sighed, not wanting to believe any of it. “I’ll think about it,” I promised, “but in the meantime, I want to talk to the doctor and get a second opinion. Surely there has to be another option. I mean, they can’t expect you to just give up and—”

  “Julia, we’ve tried everything,” he said sternly, cutting me off. “I have to accept that this is the end of the road for me…and you have to accept it too.”

  A tear dripped down my face. “No! How can you talk like that? Why aren’t you fighting for your life?”

  “I have been, all this time, in every way I could. We’ve exhausted every single option. I’ve come to accept it.”

  “No,” I said. “Daddy, you can’t stop fighting. I need you. I can’t live here without you. I already lost Mom. You can’t leave too.”

  “Your mother is in Heaven, waiting for me, and I’m tired of fighting a war I’m not going to win anyway.”

  “But that goes against everything you’ve ever taught me! You’re a fighter, a survivor. You told me that yourself, and right now, I need you to fight for your life.”

  “I did, for a long time. I have a choice as to how I will spend my remaining months, and I don’t want to spend them sick from pointless treatments and hooked up to machines. I want to have a big bash for my little girl and dance with her, just like I’ve always dreamt of doing.”

  I was n
umb as he gently held my hand.

  “I’ve had a wonderful life, Julia. I’ve done so much, more living than many people do in their lifetime, and now I want to face death on my own terms.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to accept this,” I said. “I love you way too much to just let you go.”

  “And I love you, Julia.”

  “Then fight, Dad!”

  “It’s over, and we both have to come to terms with that.”

  I let out a long sob, and my dad hugged me. I cried into his shoulder as he rubbed my back. “But you seemed so happy today,” I said. “I-I thought it was good news.”

  “I’m not going to spend my last days hating life and being bitter. I’m going to smile until the day I die.”

  “You’re so brave,” I said.

  “You know what my biggest regret is?” he asked.

  “What?” I asked, my voice quivering.

  “That I won’t get to walk you down the aisle.”

  “Oh, Daddy.”

  I talked to my dad for the next hour, but most of it was a blur. When we were done talking, we went back to the taxi, where Ed was still waiting for us. We tipped our patient driver well.

  At the nursing home, I helped my dad back to his room, then called the doctor. Unfortunately, he gave me the exact same grim news: “There is really nothing we can do. I’m sorry, but I’m sure any doctor would agree in light of your father’s condition.”

  I drove back to my apartment and fed my cat. When Kate came home, I lost it and cried in her arms. She tried to comfort me, but I was impossible to console. Grief-stricken, I called off work. Days went by, and everything remained an intolerable blur, like I was caught in some kind of horrible nightmare I would never wake up from.

  End of sample.

  Groomless - US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00X1SKBU2?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

  Groomless - UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00X1SKBU2?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

  Addictive Collision – Part 1

  Addictive Collision

  Part 1