Lucky Charm: A St. Patrick's Day Irish Billionaire Fake Fiance Romance

by Eva Luxe

  ***

  I rent a car for the occasion— driving on the other side of the road is still an exciting experience for me, especially since I don’t do it often. I arrive at Hazel’s place to pick her up right on time, which is quite the feat considering how late Hazel had let me know she wanted to take me up on my insane idea to attend the housewarming party, after all.

  As I pull up, I clear my throat and my mind of any dirty thoughts as I try to make myself seem presentable. I don’t want anything to mess up the night I have planned for Hazel and me.

  Hazel is waiting outside of her apartment building and she looks… for lack of a better word, astounding. She’s wearing a soft red cocktail dress that hugs her ass tightly and pushes her breasts up so that it’s impossible to avoid looking at her inviting cleavage. She gets in the passenger’s seat and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Wow. Really happy to see me, aren’t ya?”

  Huh? I try to follow her line of sight and see that she’s smiling at my sizable bulge. My cock still hasn’t calmed down from that fantasy I had of her earlier, and seeing her in this red dress has made me ever harder. It’s hard to miss in these wool blend slacks.

  I debate giving Hazel a proper answer but instead channel my cool guy persona and bite my lip.

  “Yeah, I actually am happy to see you, Hazel. But let’s save this line of thought for after the party.”

  She takes a deep concealed breath and cracks her sexy demeanor with a gleeful smile.

  “Nice ride,” she says, meaning the Lamborghini I’ve rented for the night. “You really wanted to go all out and wow them, didn’t you?”

  I look at her blankly until I realize she means Brittany and Scott.

  “Sure did,” I agree, but honestly, the only person I cared about wowing tonight was her.

  The drive to Brittany’s place is enjoyably peaceful, but I can see Hazel start to fidget more, the closer we get to our destination. When we pull up to the crowded sidewalk of Brittany’s and Scott’s apartment building right in the heart of Manhattan, I realize we have to drive pretty far away to find street parking.

  After I park, we have quite a walk back to the apartment building. Hazel seems nervous, so I take her left hand in both of mine as we walk, and give her hand a tight squeeze every now and then.

  This immediately calms her down enough to regain the confidence she showed at the end of our first meeting with Brittany together. I promise her that as long as we’re fake engaged, I will not let that bitch Brittany tear her down. She thanks me and hugs me tight.

  Now, it’s party time.

  Chapter 11

  Liam

  As much as I hate to admit it, Brittany and Scott do have a new apartment worth bragging about. His job in finance in Wall Street clearly pays off well. Plus, Brittany makes pretty good money as a paralegal.

  The building itself is what I’d consider a skyscraper with a gorgeous white/gold interior. The elevator we ride up in is the size of a full bathroom, and the artistry in the carpeted floor designs are downright jaw-dropping. And we haven’t even made it to their apartment.

  Before we even reach door 702, we hear loud music cranked up high. I start to wonder if perhaps band is practicing.

  After a careful look at the invitation on Facebook to confirm we’re at the right place, we knock and are greeted by none other than the Dickless Wonder, Scott. He doesn’t offer us anything more than a “sup” nod and entry to the party we were invited to.

  Inside, I see a bunch of people dancing to really fucking loud music, which for the record, is not something that happens at housewarming parties I’ve been to. A typical housewarming party in Ireland has low volume, soft rock music and is just a handful of the closest friends you really want to have inside your house.

  Maybe I’m just an old fogey. But, compared to what I’m used to, Brittany’s and Scott’s housewarming seems more like a party a fucking teenager would throw after renting out a hotel room with her rich dad’s credit card. They’re clearly on the prowl for housewarming gifts, although they already appear to have everything they need.

  People have packed themselves into this apartment like sardines and somehow this party has not been shut down by any building managers, despite the noise level being pretty high up here, and a basic body count showing that the place is way over capacity. My guess is that Brittany paid somebody off to keep her party uninterrupted no matter what. It’s incredible what rich people can get away with, and I don’t mean that in a good way.

  It’s hard to tell what the inside of Brittany’s and Scott’s place looks like with the lights dimmed and purple lights coming on and off, therefore rendering the whole point of a housewarming party useless. But my guess is that is has to be one of the bigger spaces in this building.

  I lead Hazel from the front door of the apartment through a bouncing sea of people dancing to the beat of the electronic music, and into the kitchen where a few people have congregated. Nobody I know, of course, with the exception of Brittany.

  She looks a bit perplexed by our being here, but soon loses that confused face and trades it in for a look of someone eager to stir up some trouble, which appears to be her forte. She seems nicer than she did in the coffee shop but once she’s standing in front of us, I deduce that it’s because of the alcohol that has turned her breath unbearable.

  “Let’s dance,” she screams in my ear as she grabs my hips.

  The nerve of this she-devil. Thinking she can just grab me and dance with me in front of my date— whom she knows as my fiancé— and her own. I guess she really is a narcissist who thinks she can do what she wants without regard for whomever she might hurt in the process of doing it.

  I cement my feet to the ground and do not let go of Hazel’s soft hand. Brittany tugs on my slacks a few times but when she realizes I’m not planning on moving, she gives up on getting me to the dance floor and instead starts bouncing her ass on my groin.

  Her pushiness is downright obnoxious. I came here with Hazel and if anyone’s ass is going to be bouncing on my cock, I want it to be hers. Hopefully with less clothes, though. Through some skillful maneuvering, I’m able to slip away from Brittany’s grasp and lead Hazel to the dance floor, at which point Brittany she starts dance-dry humping someone else.

  “Thanks for not ditching me, Liam,” Hazel screams, trying to overpower the loud bumping music.

  I remind her of my promise and reassure her that I won’t break it. She holds me tight once more and then tells me that she’s going to get us something to drink. She heads to the other side of the kitchen where Scott is serving up some drinks. I try to stay within earshot of the two of them but this club music is making it impossible to hear anything whatsoever.

  Unfortunately, it’s not long before I go from scoping out how nice Brittany’s place is to seeing Scott’s body language become increasingly aggressive towards my lovely date. I take a few steps closer to them and hear Scott angrily insinuate that Hazel is paying me to be with her.

  “There’s just no other way I could seeing you get a guy like that. He’s out of your league,” he yells. “If you can admit to this, I’ll give you your drinks.”

  The bloody gobshite.

  One thing I’m not going to do is stop the party by breaking out into a fight with a drunken imbecile, regardless of how badly I want to bash his face in for trying to bring Hazel down. So, I go instead for Hazel. I spin her around and grab her face with both hands. We look into each other’s eyes before I lean in and place my lips against hers. One kiss. Then another. And a third.

  Then she wraps her arms around my neck while she slips her tongue into my mouth. Scott gives up on passing out drinks and goes somewhere else, unable to watch Hazel being manhandled by someone else. And handle her I do. I grab her plump ass and pick her up with both hands as she locks me in with her legs.

  Her taste is ecstasy. Her lips are like heaven. This has gone far beyond “playing along” with a stranger at a cafe. I never want this momen
t to end. Although it’s fun to screw with Brittany and Scott, I’m wishing I would have taken Hazel somewhere else for our first official date. But kissing her here with all of these people, including the two awful ones who are hosting the party, watching, is better than not kissing her at all.

  When the kiss is finally, unfortunately, over, Hazel looks into my eyes and is unable to make any words come out of her lips. But I can tell that she’s feeling the same way I am. I can feel her heart beating as quickly as mine. This is much more now than whatever it started out as being. And she knows it, too.

  Chapter 12

  Hazel

  “Let’s get out of here,” Liam whispers into my hair, after our awesome kiss.

  “Great idea,” I tell him. “I just have to pee first.”

  I sneak off to the ladies’ room, trying to hurry so that poor Liam doesn’t have to be at this dreadful party any longer than necessary. When I come back out, Scott has him cornered against the fridge and he’s trying to talk to him in a drunken drawl. I know that look in Scott’s eyes all too well— he’s over imbibed, and pleasant things don’t follow after that point.

  “I’m all ready,” I sing song, taking Liam by the arm and guiding him away from this place. I’m glad I got to see him again but I’m second guessing our choice of venue.

  “Good,” says Liam, as we walk out the door. “I was beginning to think we’d never be able to escape.”

  While I’ve never been one to party very often, at least not since high school, I know that showing up to a party for only ten minutes and then leaving must be some sort of social faux pas. Still, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than in this car. And not just because it’s a gorgeous convertible. But mostly because it has him in it, driving it.

  Liam has been pretty quiet since our deliciously spontaneous kiss, but he has a lovably goofy grin on his face just now.

  I break the silence. “You didn’t have to kiss me, you know?”

  Liam darts his head at me with a confused look. “Of course I know I didn’t have to kiss you. But how could I resist? I heard what that shitebag Scott said and he’s out of his bloody gourd if he thinks I’m out of your league. I’m so thankful that of all the table of single dudes at that Starbucks, you decided to choose me to be your pretend fiancé.”

  I have a hard time fighting back tears after hearing Liam say this. It seems that everything in my life since I graduated from high school has tried to keep me down, from being able to find a job I’m qualified for and don’t hate, to the whole situation with Brittany and Scott. But ever since Liam has entered the picture, my heart has felt more full than ever, and I’ve been feeling emotions that range outside the two I was used to— depression and anger. That was something I’d been finding difficult the whole time between my explosive breakup and meeting Liam.

  “I know I already told you the SparkNotes version of how Scott cheated on me with Brittany but…” I start. “It was worse than just that. He had been my high school crush, and when we were going out, everything seemed so perfect. He was such a sweet guy and… he cared about me. He cared about my passions and dreams.”

  I pause, trying not to sound too pathetic. But since I’m already this far along in my sad sob story, I just continue.

  “But around the time he started cheating on me, he and I had grown so distant that I felt immensely alone. I had nobody to be my cheerleader anymore and had a hard time cheering myself on. So, I settled for working more hours as a legal assistant, something I don’t even like. I’m not good at it. I mean, I guess people there think I am because I’m up for a promotion, to paralegal. But, I don’t feel good at it. I’m good at drawing. Painting. And I just…”

  Where am I going with this? I can’t help but think. I feel rather embarrassed to be rattling on so much without realizing it. Liam must be so confused with me just laying all of my baggage out during this car ride back to my place.

  “So, what’s stopping you from being an artist?” he asks me sincerely. He doesn’t seem confused or bothered in the least.

  “Money,” I tell him. “I need to pay my half of rent. I need food. I need my life-draining job. The job I’m not excelling at. I don’t even know why they keep me on when there are so many people better than me at being a paralegal. People who’ll play dirty when I’m too nice for that.”

  “Oh, come now, you can’t be that bad,” Liam insists. “Especially if they’re thinking of promoting you.”

  “But I am! And I’m not fishing for compliments. It’s just a fact. I’m not good at my job, and quite frankly, I don’t want to be. All I want to do is make art. I have no idea why think I’d make a good paralegal; I guess their standards are pretty low.”

  He chuckles but then he gets serious again and nods slowly. “I understand what you’re saying. Well, maybe not understand, but I certainly empathize.”

  When I ask him what he means by this, he finally opens up about his life, which I’m just realizing I don’t know much about. He shares that he comes from Ireland, though, this wasn’t exactly a secret what with his almost transparent complexion and thick Irish brogue. Liam goes on to explain that his parents own a chain of widely successful pubs and “hasn’t had to need anything ever.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask him. “You’re rich?”

  “Stinkin’, Hazel. Stinkin’ filthy rich,” he chortles. “That’s how I was able to come to the States to pursue acting. I didn’t have the full support of my mum or dad as far as leaving the country to become a starving actor, but they still want their little lad to be taken care of so I didn’t do much starving. In fact, some of my brothers followed me over, because they wanted to pursue their own dreams, and also, they couldn’t stand being away from me.”

  We both laugh, but I have a hard time registering all of this information.

  “So, why are you working at Starbucks?”

  Liam belts out a laugh so hard he almost brings his car to a stop. “Oh, man, of course you think I work at Starbucks. No, no, I was just researching a role. I’m very into method acting, you see. So, I figured since the character I was auditioning for was a Starbucks barista, I had to know what it was like to be behind the counter. Taking orders, getting yelled at, all that good stuff.”

  There’s no denying Liam is a character, but his charm definitely balances that out.

  “I do work at a Starbucks-type place, though. As a barista. But that’s just to make my own money,” he says, nudging me.

  The tears I had built up from talking about how lonely I felt now pour out of my eyes, but as tears of laughter instead.

  I try speaking through my cackling, “Why did you need to research what it’s like to be a Starbucks barista if you already basically are one?”

  He starts laughing almost as riotously as I am. “I just figured I had to know if there were any secret little things I could add to my character during the audition, I don’t know. I might take this acting thing too seriously.”

  I place my hand on top of his as our laughter dies down.

  “So, you rent an expensive car because your folks will easily pay for it, but you pay for the gas, your own food, all necessities with your not-Starbucks money?” I ask him as I regain my composure, trying to make sure I understand the interesting situation.

  “That’s right. I know the importance of a man making his own money. Can’t just expect my parents to pay for everything in my life. That’d be so pathetic,” Liam explains.

  We park outside of the brownstone I live in. Being the gentleman that he is, Liam walks me to the front door where I have a hard time deciding whether or not I should invite him up.

  Spending time with Liam is like living in a fantasy world where I can just be myself, talk about whatever I want, even my art, and not be judged. He’s legitimately interested in the things I talk about and turns the hardest and heaviest of conversation into a total breeze — though with a lot of laughs.

  I don’t want to ruin things by moving too fast, but, consider
ing that we’ve already told people we’re engaged, I doubt that’s possible. And I want him, so bad.

  Before I have a chance to tell him I’d like him to come up, he plants another powerful kiss on my lips. I love how easy things are with him— as if he can read my mind, and as if he likes it. I like how he just goes along with the mood and keeps making everything even better.

  “You gonna invite me in or what?” he asks, as if giving me an example of the way he reads my mind and makes everything easier. It causes me to laugh some more and nod.

  I’m definitely ready to invite him in. And for everything else this crazy journey might have in store for us.