Faker: A Fake Relationship Romance

by Christie Tegan

  My breath stutters in my chest. I don’t say anything in response, and Tara rushes to fill the void. “Where are you anyway?”

  “Los Angeles. I thought a big city would be easier to get lost in. I just got here a couple of hours ago.”

  “Oh. I miss you already. How long do you think you’re going to stay?”

  “I miss you too. The thing is…” I pause because I could feel the tears clogging up my throat, threatening to choke me if I don’t release them. I don’t want to give in. If I start, I’m in for a long, ugly crying jag.

  Deep breaths. One, two, three.

  When I regain control, I continue. “I don’t think I can ever come back, Tar. I’ll never be safe from Rico now.” With one finger I wipe away the rogue tears that escape my eyes. “I’m scared and lonely, and I hate him for doing this to me.”

  “What about involving law enforcement? You know, it’s not legal to stalk and threaten someone.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t prove he’s done anything illegal. I don’t even know that guy’s name, the one who helped me. I’m not sure I can even recognize him again. It’s my word against Rico’s. And let’s face it: Rico’s rich and somewhat influential. They’ll give him the benefit of the doubt in all likelihood. I can’t risk it.”

  “God, that sucks. You know who could fix all of this for you, right?”

  “Pfft. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. Ever since I set eyes on him, he’s treated me like I’m some kind of lowlife... a professional liar with no ethical standards. Stupid me, I was falling hard for him, and we had one spectacular night together. I thought we had something special… maybe. And then he saw something he misinterpreted and just, like, turned on me. I could have died because of his mistake and complete lack of trust.

  “No, I could never ask him for a single favor. Ever. He ruined what I felt for him.”

  “Yeah, but just listen to me for a moment with an open mind. Okay? Put yourself in his shoes: first, there was that whole thing in Lake Como. And then you came back and spent a night together. So he was presumably feeling as if you were his. Seeing you with another man probably just sent him over the edge.”

  I take a moment to consider what she just said. Could it be true? That he was jealous? No, I don’t think so. He’s never shown any interest in me except for the one drunken night.

  “I don’t believe that. I doubt he has any feelings for me whatsoever. He was tanked the other night, and I would bet good money he regretted what happened. He wasn’t jealous. His ego was bruised and he was worried about his precious reputation. What he was doing was looking out for number one.”

  I hear her blow out her breath. “I’m not certain you’re right about that, to be honest. Because he’s texting you like crazy, asking where you are. I think it’s driving him insane that he can’t put hands on you.”

  “Good. I’m glad I’m driving him crazy after the way he acted. Listen, I have to go. I need to go shopping for a few things and try to figure out where I’m going to live if I plan to stay here. Which is not a definite thing right now. I’ll call you later or tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Marls. Take good care of yourself.”

  Right before I touch the end-call button, I hear her yell, “Oh, wait. Marley.”

  “What?”

  “Um, would it be all right if I adopted a dog? They do allow dogs in these lofts, right?”

  “Yeah, they do. But the loft owner told me he’d rather not have any animals in the place.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh. I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, but… Fletcher purchased this place from the owner not long after you two were married. He said it was a surprise wedding gift to you, so he asked me not to say anything right away. I guess he never told you?”

  “No, he didn’t.” That’s weird. Why didn’t he tell me? “Well” —I sigh— “if that’s the case, then yes, go for it. Do you have a doggo in mind?”

  “You know Casey? The woman who lives across the courtyard. Red hair, always wears sunglasses and hats.”

  “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about.”

  “She found a pregnant dog a few months back, and the puppies were born a couple of days later. Three babies and two have already been adopted. I want to take the last fur ball.”

  “Big or small?”

  “I think they’ll be medium-sized. Like maybe the size of a beagle.”

  “Okay. I hope you know what you’re getting into. Lifetime commitment, you know.”

  “I know. I always wanted to be a mother. It’s time.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “All right. I gotta go.”

  “Call me later, babes.”

  “I thought you said it was a duplex?”

  The realtor looks at me as if I’m incredibly dense. “It is.”

  I stand there in front of the garage-turned-house in the backyard of a larger home, peering doubtfully at it. “In Chicago a duplex is a two-story apartment.”

  The middle-aged blond realtor—her name is Kris Cannell—waves her hand dismissively. She seems annoyed to have to waste her valuable time to show such a low-priced place. Twenty minutes late for our appointment, she’d zipped up in a white Mercedes E-class and didn’t even apologize for leaving me waiting here like a doofus. “In LA a duplex is a property that has a house in front and one in back. The one for lease is the rear one. You can rent with the option to buy when the one-year lease expires. Do you want to see it?”

  I might as well. I made the effort to come here, but I’m like ninety-five percent certain I don’t want to live here.

  She jostles with the lockbox, her diamond rings on her bony fingers catching the sunlight and mesmerizing me. A minute later, the door creaks open, and I follow her inside. I truly can’t believe that this place costs more than my loft rent.

  Kris goes through her tired little spiel. “It’s known as a junior two-bedroom, which means that the second bedroom is small and probably only suitable for an office or nursery. It comes with all appliances including washer and dryer, which is unusual for rentals. The yard in front of this place belongs to the first house. There is a small patio directly behind this house that is for your personal use.”

  The rooms are tiny and though recently updated, the renovations are as cheap as you could get. Laminate floors, crappy white paint, stock kitchen cabinetry, low-end appliances. The view out the front windows is of the back of the other house and the one out the bedroom in the rear is of some sad looking trees and a ratty fence. There is nothing remotely appealing about the place.

  I turn toward her after taking a quick tour through the property. “Yeah, I don’t think so. This won’t work for me.”

  “You need to be realistic, dear. In your price range, this is about the best you can get in a decent neighborhood.”

  I chuckle. Here I thought my price range was teetering on the high end. Clearly LA is a lot more expensive than Chicago. “Okay. I’ll go up a bit higher, and I’m willing to look at transitional neighborhoods.”

  “I only handle this zip code, but once you zero in on an area that interests you, give me a call, and I’ll refer you to someone appropriate.”

  “So you have no other properties you can show me today that I might like better than this one?”

  “There’s a condo three blocks away, but it’s on the first floor and to be honest, this property is much better than the condo. I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  I stare at her through narrowed eyes. She just does not want to be bothered showing me properties. “Okay, then I think we’re done here. Have a nice day.” I spin on the balls of my feet and get the hell away from her. She’s making me unhappy.

  The weather is nice, so I walk over to the main street of Los Feliz to get something to eat. Finding a small café that serves organic Mexican food, I duck in and grab a free table by the large window in the corner of the room. A handsome young waiter named Pedro comes to take my order.<
br />
  “What’s good today?”

  He beams at me with white teeth that look like Chiclets. “Everything is good every day. But if you like fish tacos, they are our specialty. Another popular item is our potato taco.”

  “Potato tacos sound perfect. And I’ll take a Dos Equis with lime too.”

  “Perfect choice. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your order.”

  He wasn’t lying. Though the food is made fresh, it took less than ten minutes to bring me the tacos, and they are amazingly delicious. I spritz lime juice on the top and am about to take a huge bite when I hear someone call my name.

  My real name.

  Fuck me.

  32

  Fletcher Creed

  She betrayed me even before I met her.

  This whole time she’s been working against me with him. Rico Holland.

  When I first saw her in his arms at the party, the gut punch I felt was jealousy. Fiery jealousy. I knew I was developing feelings for her, and seeing her with another man more than stung both my heart and pride.

  It was only later when one of my guys showed me the photo of the guy she was with that I recognized him as the piece of shit who was buying up all the shares of MediaTech. That’s when I knew I was being played in a long game and apparently, I played my part like a good little soldier, right into their slimy hands.

  My knee-jerk reaction was emotional. Now I’ve calmed down, and I need to handle it. As with any problem, no matter how thorny, it has a solution. It was simple: one just had to find it. My first step was to find out what Marley knows and then be done with her. For good. The problem in front of me at the moment is where to find her. I start with the most obvious place.

  Tara’s not answering the door, but I know she’s home because we heard her voice as we approached the loft. Rick got us into the front entrance without ringing her buzzer and alerting her to our presence. But then I had to knock, and she probably caught a glance out a window or maybe from a camera that isn’t readily apparent.

  In a minute I’m going to break down the damn door. I’m losing patience because I know Marley is here, and I need to fucking speak to her. She won’t answer her phone.

  An idea springs to my mind, and I pull out my phone and call Marley’s number. Sure enough, I can hear the dog-bark ringtone go off inside the house.

  I look at my guys and we all laugh. These women are not so good at eluding someone who wants to find them. I raise my voice. “Tara, I know you’re in there, and if you don’t want your door broken down, I’d suggest you let me in. I just want to talk to Marley. Ten minutes is all I need.”

  I hear the clicks of the locks being disengaged, and the door finally opens a crack. “She’s not here, sorry.”

  “I just heard her phone ring. Her dog-bark ringtone.”

  “That was my dog barking.”

  “You don’t have a dog.”

  “I do now.”

  She’s fucking exasperating. “I know it was her phone’s ringtone.”

  She arches her brows. “Okay, it was,” she admits. “Her phone is here. She’s not.”

  I don’t believe her. “Can I come in?”

  She frowns but opens the door wider. The three of us walk in—I have Rick and Tristan with me.

  “All right, so if she’s not here, where is she?”

  “I don’t know. The only thing I can tell you is that she’s far away, and she’s not coming back.”

  “Is that so? How did she get far away? I’ve had all her credit cards monitored, and they show nothing.”

  The frustrating woman just shrugs her narrow shoulders. “She’s resourceful.”

  I’m going to have to play nice or I’ll get nowhere. I need Marley for a number of reasons. I need information from her and also her signature on divorce papers. Once I’m finished with her, she can go wherever and with whomever she desires.

  I clear my throat. “Look, Tara. I know Marley is upset—”

  “It’s about way more than her being upset.”

  She stops me short. “I don’t know what you mean. What precisely are you talking about.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “How am I supposed to fix things if you won’t tell me, and she won’t answer her phone?”

  “She can’t answer it because it’s here, and she’s not.” She says the words very slowly, enunciating every syllable as if I’m the village idiot.

  I clench my jaw, anger percolating in my gut. Looking to Rick, he nods and takes up the questioning.

  “We need to contact her. We can’t proceed with anything where she’s concerned if she’s nowhere to be found.”

  Tara sniffs, her chin thrust in the air. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you all abandoned her, almost causing her to be ki—” She stops and claps her hand over her mouth.

  I feel my spine stiffen as I scrutinize Marley’s friend. What the hell was she about to say? I want to know. I stand up to my full height to tower over her. “Explain. Right now.”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you. You had your chance, and you blew it. Now, if I happen to speak with Marley, I will be sure to tell her that you want to speak with her. Now, if you’ll please excuse me…”

  Just then a puppy with a fat belly and giant paws comes padding into the room and piddles on the floor as we all watch. “Sasquatch,” Tara yells, and the pup looks shamefaced for half a second and then bounds over to her to play.

  “What’s this?” I say.

  She flips back her blond curls. “My cat.”

  “You really do have a dog.”

  “I told you I did. So… if you don’t mind, I need to get ready.”

  “I need you to call your girlfriend. Now. Do you understand?” I cross my arms and step closer to her, moving the pup away with my foot. My intimidation technique is not working on this ditzy girl. Maybe she’s not so ditzy.

  “Don’t you dare kick my puppy.”

  “I didn’t kick your puppy…”

  Rolling her eyes, she digs her fists into her hips. “I need you all to leave. I have to get ready for a job interview.”

  “How about no? Either tell me what I need to know or you miss the interview.”

  The look on her face is so priceless that I burst out laughing despite the gravity of the situation. She really is a hoot, this girl.

  “Marley is right. You really are a dick, aren’t you?”

  “She’s not in any position to throw stones.”

  She looks shocked when I say that. “Look, the best I can do is to give Marley your message if and when she contacts me. That’s it.”

  I’m fast losing patience. I whip out my phone and dial Marley’s number. When the dog-bark ringtone breaks into the standoff, I nod to Rick, and he goes in search of the phone. I know I’m on the right track when Tara starts after him, the playful pup who thinks it’s an exciting game at her heels.

  “Wait, no,” she yells and tries to get to the phone before he does.

  Too late. He tosses me the phone from the landing, and I catch it with my left hand. I know her password, thanks to the astute observational skills of Tristan. I enter the code and immediately go to her messages. The last one sent is the night of the party—one to Tara and one to Priscilla. Before that there is mine. I read each one, and the fact that she went to Tara’s is confirmed in Marley’s message. But it is the one from me that holds my interest the most.

  It is there I see an unsent message she typed out to me the night of the party.

  And I’m floored for a second because my first instinct is to believe it.

  Then I realize that’s it’s all probably part of this scam she’s planned with Holland. I look at my men. “Let’s go. This is getting us nowhere.” I turn back to Tara just before I walk out of the unit. “If you want to keep living in this loft, you’ll put me in touch with Marley one way or the other.”

  By the end of the day, I start to have doubts about my conclusion. One reason is that Todd Ri
chmond, according to my security chief who interrogated him, told us he hired Marley through a friend who was her client. He swore up and down that he had no prior intention of reneging on the deal until the last minute and that it wasn’t Marley’s idea to put her two cents in. At all.

  Then Nathan rechecked the list he’d compiled of Marley’s clients—courtesy of hacking into her computer files—in the last eighteen months, and one of them popped up as an associate of Rico Holland. The thing was that when Nathan initially did the investigation into Marley months ago, this guy told Nathan that Todd recommended Marley to him, but Todd had no idea what we were talking about when we mentioned this man’s name. He said he’d never heard of him.

  Now why would this guy, this Rafe Hendel, lie about that? Unless he needed a viable story to slip into Marley’s client roster without suspicion. Add to that the fact that this was apparently the client who wanted to sign Marley to an exclusive contract.

  I didn’t like the inconsistencies in Hendel’s story. Richmond also happened to mention that his phone had been stolen a year or so ago, and someone had hacked into his emails, which means that someone like Hendel, for instance, could have gotten Marley’s information that way.

  It was definitely time, I decide, to pay Tara another visit.

  “Tara,” I say in an unmistakably menacing tone, “start talking now. What the fuck was Marley talking about when she said she was being kidnapped?”

  She’s surrounded by big men, two of whom have weapons, and still she stands her ground. I grit my teeth when I see her stubborn expression. “I need to know.” The last word comes out as a growl, and it’s appropriate because I’m about ready to go for her throat. If Marley is in danger, I need to find her fast.

  Tara scowls and heads to the sofa, gesturing for us to follow her, and she flops down. I’m too full of nervous energy to sit. I stand, hands in my trouser pockets, and do my best not to pace. “Go,” I prompt her.

  “When Marley and I first got to Chicago, we met this guy. He was attractive and wealthy, and he really liked Marley. He was very kind and generous to us, so when he invited Marley to stay with him while she looked for a place, she did.”