Fiancée Faker - A Bad Boy Fake Fiancée Romance

by Ana Sparks

  Guys like Clark Lambert knew exactly who to target. A business like his ran off of lonely people, the ones who didn’t have anyone to ask for advice. The ones who seemed lined with wrinkles, counting the days until the end of their lives. Nobody was watching out for them. Nobody would care if they lived, died, or went broke in the process.

  But Clark Lambert hadn’t counted on my father having anyone like me around. I had known men like Clark back in New York, men who scraped up the dirt of the city and made gold from it. And because I knew men like Clark, I knew how to use him to my advantage.

  My father needed me. He needed me to avenge him. Maybe I was trying to make it all up to him. Maybe not. Maybe I just needed to prove to myself that the bonds between a father and son were never really broken, no matter how much time had passed.

  After another few hours deep in Silver Lake, I drove back downtown to wait for Ruby. It was almost six, and the knowledge that I was about to put everything into motion was making me jittery, amped up in the way I usually was when something was about to go down. The boys said my eyes grew wide, manic, and I seemed bigger somehow, filled with ideas and bad decisions.

  I could sense that a girl like Ruby yearned for that excitement. Her life was dismal and dry-looking, even to someone like me. She wasn’t washed up yet, but you could imagine it in a few years—in her 30s, still working at an agency, living paycheck to paycheck. She needed a kick-start, a moment to live for.

  She needed me.

  I popped in to see Leandra on my way back to the agency, tossing the keys on her desk and chatting with her over the head of her client. She stank of hairspray, but her smile was vibrant and alive.

  Over margaritas we had talked about everything and nothing, but I could sense that she was avoiding something. I could see it in her eyes.

  When I got up to leave a few minutes later, she swept up to the door, holding the handle firm. “You have to promise me something,” she said, her eyes dark and serious. “You have to promise me that you’ll be careful, with whatever you’re planning. I can see it. You have about eight things up your sleeves.”

  “You called me for a reason,” I replied, giving her a wry smile and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  After a long pause, she pulled the door open, gesturing with her sharp chin. “Then get out of my hair already,” she teased with a smile.

  Today, she was cheerfully chatting and snipping away, and it did my heart good to see her doing something she loved.

  “Will I see you for dinner? I promise I’m a better cook that I used to be.”

  I waved off her invitation and flashed her a smile.

  “Wish I could, Sis, but I’ve got a dinner meeting.” I gave her client a wink and left the shop, with Leandra shaking her head. I was too cocky, but that was because I knew when I was going to win.

  Ruby was organizing a stack of papers when I entered the agency again, standing tall on her heels and without a single strand of blond hair out of place. When she saw me, her eyes grew large, and then a small, careful smile drew itself across her face.

  “I’ll be ready in two minutes,” she said softly.

  I nodded, pushing my hands into the pockets of my dark jeans and waiting, leaning heavily against the far wall. As she shifted her position, slipping files into folders and turning off the computer, I couldn’t help but admire how graceful she was: like a gazelle, careful, but fluid, even as she was surely nervous in front of me.

  Her heels clicked across the tile moments later, her cheeks lightly pink. “There’s a bar across the street I sometimes go to.”

  We left together, walking side by side, pausing for a long time at the crosswalk as traffic whizzed past. Our hands were hanging so close to one another, and I had half a mind to hold onto hers, to touch her for the first time. But in just moments, we were rounding the corner toward the bar, which was beneath a canopy and cozy and dark, despite the still-bright sun overhead.

  In the back, a single table held a flickering candle. It was situated beneath what looked like a Dutch painting, giving the impression of 15th century Europe, rather than downtown Los Angeles. I wondered what this said about Ruby, that this was a place she came to. Did this mean she missed England?

  She sat across from me at the table, flicking her fingers across the wood. Moments later, a tired, crochety old man appeared in the back doorway, lifting his chin.

  “Gin and tonic,” Ruby said.

  “Whiskey neat for me.”

  We waited for our drinks to arrive, each glancing around the place and speaking in murmurs.

  “You’re a gin girl, huh?” I asked her, trying to break the tension.

  “You’re a whiskey guy, eh?”

  She wasn’t giving me anything, and she certainly wasn’t going to make it easy on me, either. The drinks clinked between us, and we each sipped, not taking our eyes off one another. It was like we were each trying to con the other, trying to appear stronger. But as I drew taller in my chair, I sensed my dominance over her. The tattoo on my bicep flashed from underneath the sleeve of my T-shirt, and her eyes flickered, catching it.

  “So…this acting gig?” she finally stuttered, giving me the upper hand.

  “That’s right,” I said, my voice growing low. “It’ll be the easiest way you make money in your life. Even easier than manning a reception desk.”

  “Does that look easy?” she asked. “Because it certainly doesn’t pay the bills. And I hate myself more every second I spend there.”

  The words struck me as truthful. Not wanting to fall into some kind of horrendous pit of despair with this girl, I gave her a sneaky smile and a shrug. “Consider this the first of many tickets out of that place.”

  I wasn’t sure it was possible. I didn’t know her life, couldn’t comprehend it if I tried. But the way she looked at me—like I was the last and only man on earth—shook me to the bone. I wanted to wrap my hands around her waist, thrust her against the wall of this dank bar and kiss her with abandon. I wanted to make her forget her wants, her hatreds, and all of her sadness.

  “I’m all ears,” she said.

  “Right.” I shifted, taking in half of my whiskey with a single gulp. “I need a rather high-class ‘English Rose type’ to play the role of my fiancée for a night. You’ve got this accent. This British accent…”

  “But it’s no ‘English Rose’,” Ruby said, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you been to England?”

  I laughed, caught off guard. “Are you saying you can’t sound like some high-class Londoner, then? Are you saying I should go back to the agency?”

  Ruby sat up, straightening her spine. Lifting her eyebrows toward her hairline, she looked at me with large, doe eyes, her mouth falling into a pout. “Oh, darling, I don’t see how you can possibly live with yourself, being out with a Coventry girl. You need a girl like me. An English Rose.”

  The accent was similar in my ears, but clearly worlds apart in class. Immediately, she wasn’t the bright, sarcastic young woman I’d picked up at the agency. Rather, she was a woman with class, married to someone with money. She knew the inner workings of the monarchy and probably owned hunting dogs.

  I laughed aloud, tossing my head back. I snapped my fingers. “That’s it, Ruby. That’s the exact accent I need.”

  Ruby gave me a grin, clearly pleased with herself. “Sure, I can do that. But why? Why do you need some fake, British fiancée? It’s a rather strange request, if you ask me.”

  She gestured for the bartender to bring us another round—doing so even before I’d gotten to the bottom of my glass. She was a surprise in every sense.

  “It’s not terribly important that you know my plan,” I said.

  “Then it’s not terribly important that I help you,” Ruby replied with a shrug and a quick smile.

  The bartender set the two glasses down between us, then returned behind the bar and turned the radio on, giving us a strange, ‘80s inspired ambiance. He chewed gum with a bored expression, gazing ou
t the window.

  I could sense that Ruby still wanted to be involved in my plan.

  “All you really need to know,” I said, sipping the last of my first whiskey, “Is that I need to impress someone. Someone with whom I’d like to do business.”

  “Business, huh?” Ruby said, almost chortling. “Are you saying that you’re in Los Angeles on business? You don’t look like a businessman to me.”

  “You have no idea what kind of business I do. I’ve been operating on the east coast, in Brooklyn, mostly. But my father’s fallen into a bit of trouble, health and otherwise, and I figure I could find a reason to set up a few contacts out west.”

  “What kind of business are you saying you operate?” Ruby asked, teasing me, now. She knew I wasn’t going to give an inch, yet she was still going to pester me, trying to find the cracks in my plan.

  “You know. The general kind,” I replied, teasing right back.

  “A businessman in a ratty T-shirt who stinks of hairspray. I don’t know how I feel about New York businessmen.” She arched an eyebrow, and I grinned.

  “My sister owns a hair salon,” I explained.

  “So, she’s more of a businessman than you are,” Ruby laughed.

  “Look,” I smacked my palm on the table between us for emphasis, halting her laughter. My voice dropped to a whisper; I didn’t want the bartended to hear, and I wanted her to lean closer. “If you agree to this—if you playact this little ‘English Rose’ bit, smile, pretend to be head over heels in love with me, and all that bullshit—then I’ll pay you a thousand dollars.”

  That got her attention. Her lips parted, showing her tongue darting left and right against her white, glittering teeth. Her blue eyes sparkled. The money had locked her in. I had sensed it in her already; her desperation could blind her.

  “All right, businessman Billy Jay Johnston,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her breasts lifted slightly, showing cleavage above the neckline of her dress. “I’m intrigued. Tell me the plan.”

  Chapter Five

  Billy

  I had her. I could feel her bending under my will. She ordered another round of drinks and waited for me to begin. The attraction between us was palpable, making my cock stir against the denim that hugged my crotch.

  The way she drank was graceful, her motions easy and tranquil. Her tongue toyed with her straw as she sipped on her gin and tonic, and her eyes burned into mine. She was my audience. My soon-to-be-partner in a quasi-illegal affair. One she couldn’t catch wind of.

  Did I mind that I was lying to her? Not really. I’d lied to people in the “line of duty” in Brooklyn many times, and always for the greater good. If Ruby knew what I was really up to, she wouldn’t agree to it. But if she didn’t accept the money, that might screw her over even more. This was symbiotic, so I had to reason to feel bad.

  The fact that I was insanely attracted to her didn’t affect anything at all.

  “So, here’s the story,” I said, giving her a wry smile.

  “You’ve already made up our movie-quality love story?” She smirked.

  “That’s right. You’re a wealthy Englishwoman, clearly high-class.”

  “Yes. That’s right.” She shifted back into the posh accent, gazing up at me through thick eyelashes.

  I stirred with desire. “Exactly. We must convince this potential business investor that we’re a happy, healthy, well-off couple, and we’re intending to purchase a holiday home together.”

  “A holiday home? This is fresh news,” she said. “Why on earth do we wish to purchase a holiday home?”

  “As I said, we only want to make him think we’re purchasing a holiday home,” I explained. “I’ve never actually met the guy before, but I hear he’s one of your kind. An Englishman.”

  Her eyes flickered. “Do you think he’ll see right through me, then? That I’m not what I’m pretending to be?”

  I hadn’t thought of it. But her put-on accent, her slim frame, her gorgeous, glowing eyes, seemed to create a package almost any man would accept. I shook my head, growing increasingly tipsy in the haze of the dark bar. Nobody had entered in the hour since we’d arrived. It was starting to feel as though the rest of the world didn’t exist, and I was fine with it.

  “You’re an actress, Ruby,” I said with a shrug. “Nobody’s going to suspect you. You’ve already conned me into having three drinks in an hour, and I never do that. This guy won’t know what hit him.”

  Ruby looked pleased. Her cheeks turned pink, as if she was embarrassed, and she eyed the far corner, thinking. After a long pause, she said, “And how did we meet, fiancé of mine?”

  “I don’t think it’ll come up,” I laughed.

  “As an actress, I need all the information I can get to create this character. I don’t even have a name yet, dammit. It’s embarrassing. Here I am, trying to do my art without having the proper tools. Do you really expect me to go on like this?”

  I found myself loving the way she dug into this, the way she teased me. The teasing was unlike it was with my sister. It held a sexual element, one that pushed my head closer to hers across the table. “I think we met on that big Ferris wheel thing in London,” I said.

  “You mean the London Eye? And what on earth were you, Billy Jay Johnston, doing in such a high-class city?”

  “I was there on business,” I replied, my eyes twinkling. “Obviously.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re an architect, aren’t you? And you were in talks to build one of the biggest new hotels in all of England. It’s all coming back to me now,” she said, her smile wistful. “But your meetings weren’t going well. So went to see the very thing that made you want to become an architect, when you were just four years old.”

  “The London Eye,” I played along, laughing. “Of course. What else?”

  “It was crowded, and you asked if we could share a cab. I didn’t want to, as I was getting over the death of favorite dressage horse, and wanted to look over the Thames and grieve...” She trailed off, rolling her eyes. “In case you didn’t know, that’s the river that runs through London.”

  “Thanks for the update,” I chuckled.

  “Anyway, you promised that you wouldn’t talk to me—let me have my privacy, very gentlemanly—but that only made me more interested in you. Because, of course, I wanted to talk to you. You were such a handsome foreign businessman,” she continued, leaning closer to me. Our lips were inches away from one another. I could almost taste her. “And before we knew it, we were at the top of the wheel, chatting and laughing harder than we’ve ever laughed before. And since then, we’ve been inseparable. Completely and totally. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Her story was idyllic. I wished it could actually be ours. With my drunken brain, I shifted left and right in my seat, wishing I could reach across the table and hold her hand. What was keeping us from kissing? Why couldn’t I make a move?

  But she just sat there, poised, knowing that she was driving me absolutely crazy, making up her fictional tales of our past. Her breasts pressed against the neckline of her dress, her skin glowing in the soft candlelight. I’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

  Chapter Six

  Ruby

  I agreed to another round. It was irresponsible, perhaps even foolish. But after we’d sealed the deal on how we’d “met” each other, I heard him say, “Another?” and I agreed.

  I couldn’t imagine calling a cab, going home to that depressing house with my equally depressing roommates, and falling into my sad excuse for a bed alone. Not after all of this excitement. After four years of boredom—boring guys, with boring jobs, who all said the same boring things—I was finally out with someone who inspired me. I wanted to be the “dream” girl I’d always imagined myself to be. I wanted to flirt. I wanted to giggle at Billy Jay Johnston’s jokes until I felt delirious.

  The alcohol continued to flow. Billy told me very small details about his past, saying that when he’d been “too young
to know better,” he’d joined the army and gone to Afghanistan. Unsure of how to respond, I’d frowned, wondering if he’d seen combat. But in response, he’d just waved his hands over his whiskey glass and joked.

  “With most guys, their dads really want them to join the army. To make a name for themselves. With my dad, it was the opposite.” He laughed at this, clearly fighting his harsh feelings.

  “We all have fucked-up relationships to our parents, don’t we?” I asked him, shrugging slightly. “I mean, I don’t think I know a single person who doesn’t approach the world without some kind of hurdle. My mum is completely alone back in Coventry. She calls me at all hours of the day and night. I miss her; I do. And a part of me wishes I could bring her here. But what for? I’m never going to make it as an actress. It was a younger girl’s dream, and now I’m just playacting until I’m too old to work at the agency.”

  Our jokes had shifted, revealing our bleak realities. Before the mood grew too somber, Billy lifted his hand, and ordered a round of tequila shots. The next minute, we were knocking first one, and then two shots back. The alcohol burned my tongue, the back of my throat, and I shivered, looking into Billy’s eyes.

  As we stood to pay, I bumped into him, and he wrapped his firm arm around me. As I leaned easily into his body, I knew that we would be a good fit, if we let it happen.

  Billy smacked a hundred-dollar bill on the counter of the bar and then led me out into the parking lot, not bothering to pick up change.

  “You really might be a businessman, if you can toss around that kind of money all the time,” I said, slurring a little.

  “I’m an architect, baby,” he joked, kissing my forehead—avoiding my lips. “Oh, that’s another thing. I don’t think we should be using our real names. Who do you want to be?”