Billionaire's Fake Fiancé (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #10)

by Claire Adams

  BILLIONAIRE’S FAKE FIANCÉ

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

  Like me on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claire-Adams/547513332025338

  Newsletter: – Click here to get an email as soon as the next book in the series is available.

  Click here to get my book Swipe for free

  Chapter One

  Gavin

  It had been the weekend after a week of sobriety, as the past two weekends had been, and I still woke up on a Monday morning with a foggy head and a sharp ache. I reached for the bottle of Excedrin on my nightstand, groaning when it came up empty. My weekly grocery shopping trip had been the day before, and yet my basket had been full of nothing but protein powder, fruit, and eggs. The ache in my head forced me to sit up and lean against the headrest. Maybe I’d grab some painkillers on the way to mom’s. The thought made me chuckle; mom would want me to just take one of her painkillers and not waste my money.

  I got dressed, slipping into a thick dark jacket on top of a light brown sweater. The weather in Fairbanks, Alaska changed from freezing to boiling at least three times in the course of a single afternoon, making it nearly impossible to plan an outfit. I looked for my belt, trying to remember where I had flung it the previous night as soon as I returned home after a late evening drinking with Ron. The asshole was taking advantage of my new diet plan; no sugary alcohol during the week, and only hard liquor on the weekends.

  My cell chimed, and I unlocked it to find an incoming call from Ron.

  “The sun’s going to be out until almost six today,” he said. “Perfect day for an afternoon on the lake.”

  “I guess I don’t really have an excuse,” I said. “Meet me at the docks around noon. I’m spending some time with mom first.”

  “Tell Mona I said hi,” he said. “I hope she’s feeling better.”

  I shrugged. “She has her good days.” We said goodbye, and I slipped my phone into the pocket of my jeans. I hoped today was one of those good days.

  I left my room and crossed the upstairs hallway toward a spiral staircase in the middle of my house. The bottom floor was an open layout with rich, red carpeting and a soft gray coat on the walls. Every table and surface top was smooth marble, with wooden touches on the ceiling that led toward a kitchen that was fit for a palace.

  It was way too extravagant for my tastes, but this house was the only one that was immediately available and had an empty lot big enough to build another house. I had made the decision early on to redecorate the inside and make it simpler, turn it into a house fit for a single guy who didn’t even want to spend much time in it, but time had passed, and every estimate I’d received for an indoor remodeling had made me wince. Not that I didn’t have the money for it, but I didn’t feel as if that money was mine to spend.

  I opened the door to my protein powder pantry and picked out a flavor I hadn’t yet tried, a banana caramel, and made a quick protein shake. I would squeeze in a workout between seeing mom and meeting Ron, so I made another regular vanilla protein shake and placed it in the fridge. I downed the banana caramel in the time it took for me to exit my house and walk across the few short yards it took to reach mom’s house.

  It was much smaller than mine, with a one-story layout and simple decorations that only a mother would think of. A fountain in front with a bird house at the top, and beautiful flowers blooming from top to bottom in thick vines that hugged the red brick walls: I had spared no expense to make sure her house was exactly how she wanted it.

  She had been diagnosed with cancer not too long ago and had fought against the idea of me building her a house while trying to convince both herself and me that she would be fine living in an assisted housing. I had quickly won that argument, and she had fallen in love with her house in less than a day.

  I knocked on the front door and was greeted by Karen, her live-in nurse.

  “Mr. Hayward,” she greeted me with a smile. An older woman, possibly five or 10 years older than my 55-year-old mother, with aging hair that made her seem wiser and a pair of thin glasses, pushed to the bridge of a button nose. She was short and plump, and despite her age, she always seemed to have the energy of a 20-year-old in their prime.

  “I tell you all the time to call me Gavin,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Hayward was your father.” She smiled and showed me inside. There was a plate of breakfast, still hot with steam, on an otherwise empty wooden table in the living room, and the TV was playing mom’s favorites soap operas. Karen was beyond good to mom, always making sure she had food available in case her appetite ever resurfaced, and she was constantly cleaning the house top-to-bottom. She began reading to her as well when mom’s vision started to worsen. I took a small bite from one of the pancakes on the plate, delighted when a touch of cinnamon and sugar filled my mouth.

  “I think I’m going to have to keep you around to take care of me when I’m older,” I joked. Karen rolled her eyes and led me toward mom’s room.

  “If I’m still alive by then, just euthanize me.” She opened the door slowly. “It’s one of the good days.”

  I pushed past her to see my mother lying in a bed far too big for her frail body. She was losing more weight as the days went on, and her beautiful black hair was thin and stuck to her skin with perspiration. She was breathing heavily in bed with eyes shut in pain.

  “Mom,” I breathed. Her eyes, as light blue as mine, opened, and she immediately fought to lean on her elbows. “Don’t move,” I said. “You’re in pain.”

  “I’m fine.” She shook her head. “I can still get up when my only son visits. I was just about to get up and go watch ‘Days of our Lives’, actually.”

  “That trash?” I laughed. “I don’t know what’s worse for you, daytime drama or cancer.”

  “The cancer,” she said, but her face held a soft smile. “Definitely the cancer.”

  “Well, you’re going tomorrow to see Dr. Lemonis to see if it’s gotten better,” I said because I couldn’t handle it if it had gotten worse. “I know how much you like seeing him.”

  “Only because his ass is cuter than both you and Karen, and you two are the only people I even see anymore,” she said.

  “Yes, we know you really like his ass,” Karen said as she placed a cup full of pills and a glass of water on mom’s nightstand. “You stare at it every time he makes a house call.”

  “House call?” I asked. “How many times has he visited you at home?”

  “Just the once.” Mom coughed into her elbow. “I thought I had the flu.”

  “You didn’t tell me this.” I groaned. “From now on when you think you even have a fever, you have to call me.”

  “I’d be ringing your phone all day, Gavin,” she said. “You might as well put me in that giant house of yours that you live in all by yourself.”

  “You know I already tried that,” I said. “You’re the one who refused to move into it.”

  “Only because I didn’t want to be in the way when you eventually moved a woman into it.” She took her medicine with a smirk. “It’ll still happen.”

  �
��There’s no woman,” I said for the millionth time. “Really, mom, you have bigger things to worry about.”

  “It’s because I have bigger things to worry about that I worry about you,” she said. I hesitated near the bed.

  “You never have to worry about me.” I held her thin, bony hand in mine and sat beside her. “Just get better. How are you feeling?”

  She shrugged. “You know how it is: good days are great, bad days are the worst.”

  Despite how weak her body was, she seemed happy and almost energized. I smiled, it seemed that today was one of her good days.

  “Try to get some food in you,” I suggested. “You haven’t even opened the package of protein powder that I had delivered the other day.”

  “Protein shakes just taste funny after a while,” she said. “I’ll try though, for you. What are your plans for the day? You’re not just going to sit here and tell me what to do are you?”

  I laughed. “No, mom. I’m going out on the boat with Ron after a workout.”

  “You work out way too much to not have a woman,” she said.

  “I work out way too much to waste my time with a woman.” I kissed her cheek. “I’ll check on you later, and I’ll pick you up in the morning for your appointment. I love you, mom.”

  She held my chin in her hand and kissed my forehead.

  “I love you, Gavin, so impossibly much,” she said and settled back into bed.

  “Nothing’s impossible,” I replied. It was a common set of phrases that we’ve used nearly my entire life.

  I spoke with Karen a little on the way out, asking her if mom had eaten anything within the last twenty-four hours.

  “She held down a pudding cup,” Karen said. “But other than that, no. Her appetite is completely gone.”

  “Thanks, Karen. I’ll see you later.”

  I left with my heart in my throat, struggling to hold myself together. If today was a good day for mom, how were the bad days?

  I spent more time in my home gym than I had planned. Leg lunges, curls, squats, lifts, all in reps of 20 until my thighs were threatening to give out was my usual routine. My body was thick with sweat by the time Ron called asking if I was on my way. I cursed and promised him I would be there soon, and hopped into the gym shower to rinse off. I grabbed the protein shake from the fridge and finished it before leaving the house. Regular vanilla was definitely better than banana caramel.

  I figured I’d have to eat real food at some point, but my nerves were getting the better of me. It seemed mom was only growing sicker, and I was worried that the chemo wasn’t helping.

  “On your way doesn’t mean 15 minutes, jackass,” Ron said as I met him on the docks. He was already getting my most cherished boat, the Lupine, ready for sail.

  “Maybe if you spent 15 minutes in the gym you wouldn’t have such bad luck with women, Ronald.” I climbed aboard and let Ron do all the work. He made his living fishing on boats anyways.

  “Don’t be an asshole.” Ten minutes later and we were out on the water. Ron kicked back with a beer on the top deck, and I caught one as he flung it my way. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”

  “On the weekends,” I said. “Weekends are for cutting and bulking.”

  “That shit makes no sense.” He downed his beer. “But you have the body to prove it, I guess.”

  Ron’s body wasn’t entirely awful; he was skinny with the beginnings of a beer belly and strong arms from spending so much time fishing, but he was constantly making fun of me for taking the time to improve my muscles everywhere. His dark hair was cut shorter than mine, and his skin sported a dark tan from being out in the sun for hours nearly every morning. His father, a man who passed away in his early forties, had taught the both of us how to fish when we were teenagers, and up until recently we both made a living catching and selling fish in the market.

  “How’s Mona?” he asked.

  “Sick.” I stared at the blue sky above us. I was glad for the thin sweater as the sun covered us in a warm glow. “She’s not getting better.”

  “Is she getting worse?” Ron turned to look at me, but I refused to look back.

  “She’s not getting better,” I repeated. “She’s a fighter though. Kept down a pudding cup, and she’s cracking jokes nonstop.”

  Ron laughed. “Mona’s always had the best sense of humor.”

  “At least we don’t have to worry about the financial part of this,” I said. “Stress makes people worse, I’ve read.”

  “It does,” Ron said. “The hospital bills were piling up so high when dad was going through chemo and radiation. For the longest time, mom swore that the bills killed him, not the cancer.”

  “Oh shit,” I cursed. “I’m so sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s okay.” He shrugged me off. “No one deserves to go through any of this, least of all Mona. I’m happy she doesn’t have to worry about anything else. Selling your dad’s company was a genius move.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” I said. “His shipping company meant the world to him. I was surprised that he left it to me after he passed. I was convinced he’d leave it to one of his workers. He knew I didn’t really have an interest in it.”

  “Maybe he wanted you to have it in case of a financial emergency,” Ron suggested. “It paid off in the end.”

  “A financial emergency.” I took another sip. “I sold a multibillion-dollar company for a financial emergency, and now I’m stuck in a giant mansion I don’t give a shit about, with a mom sick with cancer, a dad in the graveyard, and nothing but my gym to keep me company. You know I don’t care about fancy cars or clothes or giant houses; I’d give every penny back if it would make mom better, dad alive, and everything to be how it was 10 years ago.”

  “Ten years ago we were assholes in our early twenties, sleeping with a different woman every single night and making our parents sick with worry when we wouldn’t answer their calls for a week,” Ron said.

  “Exactly.” I laughed. “Although I think we both would definitely see our parents a lot more if we knew.”

  “We’d do a lot of things differently,” he said and pulled out two fishing poles.

  We reminisced on all the things we did in our twenties for the next hour as we fished, catching barely two fish each. I released mine back into the wild while Ron dumped his into a bucket.

  “After we get the fish stink off us, do you want to go find some women at the bar to take home?” Ron asked. It was his second favorite thing to do; the first was finding women at the club.

  “I don’t think I have it in me to watch you fail at picking up women until you reek of so much desperation that you end up paying for a bachelorette party’s whole night,” I said. “Plus, I have to get up early and take mom to her appointment tomorrow.”

  “Hey, desperation works.” We arrived at the docks and parked the boat. “But maybe next time. Tell me how the doctor visit goes.”

  We said our goodbyes and I returned to my house. I hadn’t been with a woman in so long that the simple suggestion had stirred something within me. My body was stiff with stress, and finding a woman to release this tension didn’t sound like such a bad idea. I shook my head and dressed in gym shorts and running shoes. I could work this stress out now; finding a woman could wait.

  Chapter Two

  Maddie

  The weekend had been full of cocktails on ice; rum spilled across the bar’s counter, men leering at us we took shots and pretended not to notice them. The morning after such a busy weekend was always the worst, especially when it ended with maybe two phone numbers exchanged inside Fairbanks’ most exclusive club. My phone’s alarm reminded me I planned on waking up early to call Martin, my agent, but I buried my head deeper into the soft pillow. The weekend had been full of too many cocktails and spilled rum, it seemed.

  After 10 minutes of an internal battle, I forced myself into sweats and a t-shirt and started on breakfast. I made the greasiest food I could find in the heavily la
cking kitchen that my roommate and I shared. Sausage links, Bacon, pork rolls, eggs cooked in bacon grease. Nancie would argue that our breakfast had way too many calories, but she had accepted many more drinks than I had, and my hangover was already starting to make my eyes sting.

  I started the coffee pot and browsed through various social media sites as the old coffee maker took its time filling up a pot with steaming, delicious-smelling coffee. Nancie had gotten nearly 5,000 new followers over the weekend. I checked mine, knowing that my face was tagged in all of her posted pictures. Seven hundred. I groaned and chucked my phone onto the couch.

  I made Nancie’s cup the way she liked it, with coconut milk, coconut sugar, and a splash of almond sweetener. It could barely be called coffee. I sipped on my black coffee as I opened Nancie’s door.

  “Nancie,” I said and pulled on the bedsheets. She was stuffed beneath, her wild, dirty blonde hair a mess around her face and makeup smudged beneath bright, blue eyes. A fake eyelash clung to a high cheekbone, and as she stretched her skinny, long arms, she took the mug from my hand and yawned.

  “Is it noon already?” she asked.

  “It’s seven, actually.” I leaned against her door. “I thought you’d want to get a head start on the week.”

  “On the week, Maddie?” She gulped her coffee until not a drop remained. I took the mug from her and took the three steps between her room and the kitchen to refill it. “I could have gotten a head start on the week at noon.”

  “I thought you’d want to go to the gym together?” I suggested. “Eight am is the best time to go, when everyone else is on their way to their nine-to-five.”

  “The gym,” she muttered and made herself a plate full of fried eggs and pork rolls. “I guess we do need to burn off all those drink calories, and this devil breakfast you torture me with.” She sat at the dingy, two-person dining table crammed into the corner of the kitchen and dug into her food. I sat her coffee beside it and looked for the Excedrin in our medicine cabinet.