I tried to remember if I’d ever been with a guy who wore a suit before sex and I didn’t think I had. Prom didn’t count because that had been a rental tux and my high school boyfriend, Dante, had been very uncomfortable in anything other than a basketball uniform. He hadn’t removed his jacket with smooth moves. More like a giraffe trying to shake off a blanket.
Grant looked like he’d been an infant in a blazer. He’d probably learned to do his own tie by the first grade.
“Can I get you anything before I leave?” Grant asked, leaning against my bed as he buttoned up his shirt. “I don’t want you walking around too much on that ankle.”
“No, I’m good.” I felt lazy and content and I had no intention of moving anytime soon. “I’m going to lay in bed naked and watch YouTube videos.”
He made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t say things like that. And don’t look at me like that. Like I said, I have an appointment this afternoon I can’t miss.”
“How am I looking at you?” I asked, feigning innocence, as I trailed my fingertips over my breasts.
“You’re killing me.”
“I am the wisest woman in the world, according to you.” I wanted Grant to stay, but at the same time I wasn’t sure how smart that was. He looked torn, but I could see he was determined to leave despite how amazing more sex might be. I was not about to be that girl who talked a guy into sticking around. More would be better, but honestly, I had gotten more than I had expected out of the day and I was thrilled with that.
Again, aside from the sprained ankle, that is.
“You are the wisest woman in the world. You let me upstairs, didn’t you?” He gave me another grin and tucked his shirt into his dress pants and yanked his jacket off the doorknob. He put it on with a practiced movement. “And I’m sorry about your ankle.”
“It will heal.” I rolled onto my side and studied him. “Don’t forget your tie.”
He bent over and then held it up. “Got it.”
Grant turned toward me. His gaze swept over the length of my body and his nostrils flared a little. Then he seemed to steel himself to leave. He gave a groan and pushed back from the bed.
Then he said, “Put more ice on that ankle,” before giving me a quick kiss.
As he crowded my space just briefly for that last press of his lips on mine, I was thinking I would probably never see Grant again.
Which was a shame. He really was an intriguing guy. And sexy. And hot.
I sighed, mostly with contentment as Grant went down the hall. I gave him a “Bye, Grant!” in my diner voice.
He gave a laugh, then I heard him close my front door behind him.
As I rolled over to grab a sip of water, I spotted my poodle skirt on the floor. I’d seen him stuff the hundred bucks back in the pocket and I realized I’d never managed to give it back.
He was definitely a man who got what he wanted.
My phone buzzed on my dresser. It was my friend, Dakota, who had been one of my first roommates when I moved to the city. “Hey,” I said, as I sat up and answered. It didn’t feel weird to be talking to her naked because she couldn’t see me, but also, we’d been in a hell of a lot of dressing rooms together over the years.
“What’s up?” She was chewing something in my ear that had a hell of a crunch to it. “Want to grab drinks tonight? I have like three free hours and I need to use them wisely.”
“I sprained my ankle so I can’t really go very far.”
“Wait, yeah, why aren’t you at work?”
“Because I sprained my ankle when I got tapped by a cab.”
“You got tapped by a cab driver?” She sounded gleefully scandalized.
“No!” I set my phone down on the dresser and hit speaker. Then, gingerly easing myself onto the floor, I dug in a drawer for some shorts and a T-shirt. “This rich guy who comes into the diner every week. He gave me a ride home from work after I got hit by a cab and well, you know. Sex happened.”
“That is a lot of blocks. Dude deserved a thank-you.”
I laughed. “I’ve had a crush on him for six months. This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
“Understood. Are you capable of hobbling to the nearest bar by your apartment? I can be there around seven.”
“I can manage that. I’m going to elevate it now.” I pulled on my clothes and gingerly walked down the hall to lock my apartment door. I had a fear about being attacked in my own apartment like in a home invasion movie.
“Cool. See you later and you can tell me all about the rich guy.”
“His name is Grant,” I said as I walked back to my room. Then I cursed myself because I could hear it in my voice. I sounded a little too eager.
Like… I liked him.
Dakota heard it too. “Ooh la la, Leah has a boyfriend.”
I groaned. “No. I don’t. This was a one and done. I swear to you.”
Grant and I had nothing in common. It would never work.
He’d left without one word about seeing each other again, which was exactly what I had expected. It had been spontaneous fun.
But I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be at the diner next Wednesday.
Eating his pancakes. Fantasizing about syrup.
Andre eyed me as I got into the car. I watched him take in my rumpled suit and disheveled hair. He opened his mouth.
I slammed the door shut. “Not one word, Andre. Seriously.”
He grinned. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I need to swing by my apartment and change before my three o’clock appointment.” Not only were my clothes wrinkled, I was missing my top shirt button and my tie. Plus, I smelled like sex.
Andre snorted. “No shit.”
“Mind your own business,” I said absently, not actually annoyed with Andre. I was distracted. I was… sucker-punched.
Leah had been everything I had envisioned and more.
My assistant was harassing me via text with questions about when I was going to be available, but I honestly didn’t care. I had half a mind to just go home and call it a day. I wanted to pour myself a glass of whiskey and remember every detail of Leah. Of her body, her smile, her orgasm.
Holy shit, that had lived up to every dirty thought I’d had about her for the last six months.
The only problem was now I wanted more. I wanted her in my apartment, in a big bed that would allow me to change positions with her easily. I wanted to see her naked in my shower, and to press her back up against the Carrera marble. I wanted to bend her over my sofa and take her from behind while she made those sexy-ass sounds of pleasure.
I wanted her. Damn it.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my cock.
Dialing my assistant, I glanced out the window at the tree-lined street. The neighborhood had investment potential.
“Where are you?” Darren demanded instead of greeting me. He sounded frantic.
Fresh out of college, he was intelligent, eager to learn, and just as much of a workaholic as I was. Darren was short, thin, and wore designer glasses. He donned bow ties and pants that barely skimmed his ankles with insanely expensive socks below the cuffs. My mother loved Darren and kept suggesting that I should date him, ignoring the obvious that I was neither gay nor interested in the messy dynamic of dating an employee who was a decade younger than me.
But in the end, what my mother wanted was what mattered when it came to her opinions on my life. She thought we’d make a great couple. Therefore, reality didn’t matter.
“I’m in the car heading to my apartment.”
“Why? What is going on?” Darren made a sound of disapproval. “I am freaking out. Mr. Zhang is flying out tomorrow. You have to see him today if you want to discuss the Times Square hotel project.”
“I know. That’s why I’m meeting him at three.” I glanced at my watch. Twelve thirty. Plenty of time. “Now don’t worry about that. I need you to order a care package and send it to Leah Romano.” I tapped Andre. “What was that address,
Andre?”
He gave me the address for Leah’s building and I repeated it to Darren. “It’s for a sprained ankle so a bandage and… I don’t know. What the hell goes in a care package?” It’s not like I’d ever gotten one. “Flowers, right?”
There was a pause then Darren said, “Well, who is she?”
He sounded curious and I decided to keep it as close to the truth as possible. “She’s the woman who serves me every Wednesday and she got hit by a cab chasing after me when I dropped a hundred-dollar bill and she tried to return it to me. Fortunately, it wasn’t too serious but she did wind up with a sprained ankle.”
I’d already given her my eight-inch package but that didn’t count. It seemed appropriate and polite to send her a little something. It was my fault she’d run into the street and was now going to miss several days of work.
“What’s the budget?”
“I don’t know. Use your judgement.”
“I’m on it.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.” I ended the call and almost immediately my screen lit up. My father. I sighed. If I didn’t answer he would keep calling.
“Hey, Dad, how are you?”
“Your mother says you haven’t RSVP’d to the anniversary party.”
That made me roll my eyes. “I will be there. I told Mom I’ll be there.” My mother just liked to stir up my father. When it came to me, it was easy for her to do. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him, which was ironic given that he’d spent most of his life doing nothing but pursuing pleasure.
The car was heading downtown, and as usual, I felt impatient. Impatient to get back to work. Impatient with my family. The fact that my parents, given each of their multiple affairs, many fights, and even one restraining order back in the nineties, were determined to celebrate their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary seemed both bizarre and pointless.
But I would go because I had no desire to waste valuable time arguing.
“This is really important to her. Just like it’s important to both of us that you settle down, too. You’re too damn old to be having sex with random women.”
Was I? Clearly not given I had just left Leah’s apartment. His condescending tone irritated me. “My personal life is just that—personal.”
“Not when there is several billion dollars plus at stake. I sent you something from my attorney. Did you review it?”
That gave me pause. “No. I’ve been out of the office this morning. What did you send me?”
“Just read it. And just so you know, I’m not changing my mind on this, so don’t even try. It’s legal and binding and I refuse to back down.”
What the hell? All my feelings of contentment disappeared. My father was a shitty businessman and impulsive. I had no clue what he had just dropped on me and it pissed me off. “Then let me off the phone so I can read it.”
“Fine. Talk to you soon.”
I didn’t say a word, just ended the call and opened up my work email. There it was, from my father’s personal attorney. I opened the attached document, enlarged it, and started reading.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yelled at my phone, outraged and pissed off.
I used voice command to order my phone, “Call my lawyer, Sam Rothstein.”
“Calling Sam Rothstein.”
This was complete and total bullshit and I was not going to let my father dictate my life.
Required to be in a committed relationship to retain position as CEO of real estate division my fucking ass.
There was no way that was legally binding.
Chapter 4
“It’s legally binding,” Sam said an hour later.
“What the fuck?” I said. “That’s not possible. My father can’t use the company to force me to have a girlfriend.” It was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard in my entire life.
It was stupid, pointless, idiotic, controlling, insane. Dickheaded, dumb, and not going to happen.
I had Sam on speaker since I was fresh out of the shower and dressing for my meeting with Zhang. Sam had called me after reviewing the document I had forwarded to him.
“Technically, he can. He and your grandfather own the company. You don’t inherit your half until your grandfather passes. So your father can fire you if you don’t comply with his standards. Your grandfather is retired, so he doesn’t have a say in it at this point.”
I paced in my boxer briefs in my bathroom, agitated as hell. “I’ve spent the last ten years of my life working my ass off for this company! I served my country in the navy. Neither of those things matter? My father only gives a shit that I have a girlfriend?” It was preposterous. Truly fucking insane.
“It would appear that way, yes.” Sam cleared his throat. “Look, just trot out a woman. It’s very vague as to committed relationship so just pretend to be dating someone. Ask a female friend.”
Hmm. That could work, but what a complete pain in the ass. “That makes it even stupider. Why the hell would it be a legal document if the terms are vague?”
“It says you have to display obvious affection and bring her to all family gatherings.”
“What?” Jesus. I knew no woman in my friend pool or casual dating circle that I would subject to holidays with my family.
“Hell, in that case, hire an actress,” Sam said. “Though you didn’t get that as legal advice from me. That’s me telling you as a friend.”
Wait a minute.
Hire an actress? I happened to know a singing waitress, aspiring actress, hotter-than-hell-in-her-twin-bed woman who I could easily display obvious affection for. “You may be on to something, Sam. Let me know if there is a loophole out of this,” I told him. “And call me back. I’m going to reach out to an actress I know because there is no way in hell my father is going to win this battle.”
I’d worked way too hard for my current position.
My father was the playboy, not me. I hadn’t broken hearts in years, not since I’d learned how to be brutally upfront with women I slept with. I didn’t dwell too deep into my parents’ relationship anymore because I didn’t understand it and no longer cared to, but rumor had it my mother had set my father’s Porsche on fire because he’d had another woman it in, not even six months ago. They did not have an open marriage or any sort of agreement other than they were supposed to be monogamous and neither could quite swing it.
So this was just straight-up bullshit.
Was this Dad’s weird way of expressing regret? An apology for never being around would have been preferable to this. Frankly, the best thing he could have done for me at that point was to do nothing. None of it mattered to me anymore. I was who I was and I was okay with it.
It’s not like I would be the first thirtysomething-year-old workaholic man with commitment issues. Half of the guys in my gym were some version of the same.
I ended the call with Sam and went over to where I had tossed my pants I’d been wearing earlier in the day onto an ottoman in the corner of my bathroom. I dug in the pocket and retrieved the name badge I’d removed from Leah’s sweater. I wasn’t sure why I’d kept it. I’d done it without thought, more so because there was nowhere to set it down in that tiny bedroom of hers. But now I was glad I had it. I ran my finger over the letters of her name.
I’d broken a steadfast rule with Leah. I hadn’t explained to her I was not looking for a relationship before I’d stripped her clothes off. That had been stupid, but I’d gotten no vibe from her that she wanted or expected anything other than a fun afternoon in bed. Involving her in my family drama would complicate our dynamic but I wasn’t going to lose my position in the company and Leah was the perfect choice to help me.
Would Leah be willing to do some work-for-hire acting? I didn’t want to assume anything about her situation but she did not seem to be rolling in cash. I would only need her to pretend to be my girlfriend a couple of times a month for the next couple of months. After this anniversary weekend from hell, that is. It was a lot to ask someone. But I woul
d pay generously and we had chemistry. It would be believable that we were together.
I thought about the feel of Leah beneath me, the soft cries she gave of pleasure, and the way my cock felt deep inside of her. I pictured her sassy smile and her cheerful insistence I was bossy.
The idea of having Leah at my side for the party made the entire weekend sound actually… tolerable.
Maybe even enjoyable.
I slid open a drawer on the bathroom vanity and set the name badge down inside. Then I called the diner.
“Can I speak to Theresa, please?”
It took almost three minutes—I know, I timed it—but the waitress who worked every Wednesday with Leah finally came on the line. “This is Theresa, who is this?”
“This is Grant Caldwell. I gave Leah Romano a ride home this morning. Can you please give me her number? She left something in my car.” Not exactly the truth, but it would work for my purposes.
“I’m not giving you her number, are you insane? You could be a total freak.”
“Fair enough. Can I give you my number to give to her?” I knew where Leah lived and there was a million ways to track someone down on social media but I thought a phone call might be the easiest. I wanted to ask her to meet me in person. You just didn’t DM someone without warning and ask them to be your fake girlfriend for money. That would make me a freak.
There was a pause but then Theresa said, “Fine. I’ll give her your number but hurry up, I have to work. Unlike some people, apparently.”
I wasn’t even offended by her reaction. She had a busy job she clearly didn’t love and I was asking for a favor. “Thanks, Theresa, I really appreciate it.” I gave her my number. If I didn’t hear from Leah in a few days, I’d go to the diner myself or reach out online.
“Whatever,” was her response.
After she hung up on me, I got dressed and pulled out my laptop to go over my notes for my meeting with Mr. Zhang. My apartment was a two bedroom in the Flatiron District. I liked the more central Midtown location than SoHo or Tribeca. More affordable too, such as it goes in Manhattan, and I wasn’t interested in throwing excessive money at an apartment I didn’t own. While the outside of my building maintained the original look of a warehouse, inside the apartments were very modern with high-end finishes. Smart technology. A communal rooftop pool and an outdoor lounge. The usual amenities you expected when you were spending mid-five figures a month in rent.
Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone Page 5