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

by Claire Adams

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Finn said as he slipped into the skybox through the side door. He was wearing a navy polo shirt and Levi jeans with green Jordan sneakers. I shook my head. He grinned, “That good, eh?”

  “What the fuck were we thinking?” I asked as I kept staring out at the stadium. “I mean, seriously.”

  “We rolled the dice and decided to see how far we could go,” Finn said. “That’s all we were thinking.”

  “I’m sick of it already,” I sighed as I turned and faced him. “What’s happening with the project?”

  “It’s moving along nicely,” he said as he ran his hand over the leather seats that occupied several raised rows on the far side of the room. The suite had been outfitted with every luxury we could think of, and had everything from its own fully stocked bar to a full kitchen off to one side where a chef and several staff members would cook throughout the game. There were two full bathrooms complete with showers, and a staff on duty to press clothing or shine shoes should the need arise. I hadn’t created this suite for me, but rather as a selling point for the next potential owner. Personally, I found all of the amenities pompous, and even tacky.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, eyeing Finn. He looked like he was hiding something.

  “Nothing, why?”

  “You want to say something, but you’re holding back,” I observed. I had known Finn my whole life, and as a result, I sometimes knew him better than he knew himself. And as my business partner, I cut him no slack.

  “Just something I found out that I’m not sure you want to know,” he shrugged.

  “When have I ever not wanted to know something?” I asked.

  “When it involves women,” he said bluntly. “You hate it when I burst your bubble.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Finn?” I demanded.

  “That chick you’re in bed with,” he said, waiting to see if I wanted to hear more. When I said nothing, he continued, “There’s some rumors going around that she’s playing you.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I said, trying to stay calm.

  “Dunno yet,” he said. “I’m just telling you what I’ve been hearing.”

  “Well, until you have something solid, don’t waste my time with stupid rumors,” I growled.

  “See, this is why I don’t tell you shit,” he said accusingly. “You get all worked up and pissy.”

  “I’m not pissy, I’m trying to make sure this goddamn game goes off without a hitch,” I said feeling irritated that he’d even brought Payton up. “I’m wondering if we’ve got enough security for this one. The Lions fans are Detroit all the way, and I’m thinking we may have some trouble on our hands.”

  “So, stop selling beer during the third quarter,” Finn shrugged. “Ninety percent of the bullshit is connected to beer sales, and you know it.”

  “If I tell them to stop selling beer during the third, we’ll have a fucking riot on our hands,” I said. “And not the fans, the vendors.”

  “Just a suggestion,” Finn said without emotion before adding. “I’ve got a meeting with the CAA people on Tuesday, I’ll keep you posted.”

  “You aren’t staying for the game?” I asked.

  “Nah, I don’t give a shit about how they win the game,” Finn said. “I just want them to kick some ass. Catch ya later, man.”

  Finn was gone before I could say another word. I turned back toward the stadium and thought about what he’d said. I didn’t like the fact that there were rumors about Payton floating around, but I was fairly sure it was nothing more than speculative gossip. I quickly pushed it to the back of my mind as I considered what Finn had said about alcohol sales. I didn’t want to stir up the crowds, but I also didn’t want to fuel the drunken brawls that had become part of the stadium culture. And I definitely didn’t want to piss off the vendors.

  “Dammit,” I muttered as a door opened and Payton entered.

  “What’s the dammit for?” she asked. I turned away from the window and found myself speechless for a moment. Payton was wearing a V-neck, navy sweater that clung to her curves with the tightest pair of jeans I’d ever seen. I swallowed hard and smiled.

  “Just a few challenges in the new stadium,” I said as I crossed the room. “Do you want a drink?”

  “Maybe a beer?” she said. “If you’ve got a cold one.”

  “Where have you been?” I asked as I pulled a bottle from the fridge and popped the cap, holding it out and pointing to a glass.

  “Bottle’s fine,” she said taking it from me. “I was at the office going through a few more scouting reports. You know that Cal McKenzie is a free agent?”

  “Should I know who that is?” I asked as I popped the top on a second bottle and took a long drink.

  “Only one of the top-rated second-tier quarterbacks in the league,” she said shaking her head. “You really don’t give a shit about this team, do you?”

  “Lady, I have 99 problems, and a new quarterback isn’t one of them right now,” I said grinning as I tried to lighten the mood.

  “You’re hopeless,” Payton chuckled as she shook her head. The door opened and several young men dressed in black entered with Gram following close behind. I gestured to the door that led to the kitchen and the servers quickly disappeared.

  “David, I’m so excited to watch the Storm play their first game,” she said as she looked around the room. “My God, this is the epitome of tricked out!”

  “Gram!” I laughed. “Where did you learn that?”

  “What? Did I say it wrong?” she asked in a voice so earnest that both Payton and I burst into laughter.

  “No, you got it right, Sally,” Payton said. “It’s just funny to hear you using such a term.”

  “The kids in the neighborhood have been teaching me their lingo,” she said proudly. “I’m picking up on some of it, but other things I just don’t understand.”

  “Well, we can go over it later if you like,” I offered. “Can I get you a drink, Gram?”

  “I’ll take a Manhattan,” she said. I stepped behind the bar and got to work mixing. “This really is quite beautiful, David.”

  “Thank you; I tried my best,” I said as I measured the liquids and mixed. When I had it right, I brought the glass to her and said, “A toast. To our first win in the new stadium!”

  “To the first win!” Payton and Gram chimed in smiling.

  The game started out slowly with the Lions taking the lead at the end of the first quarter. The fans were vocal and the team Storm responded to their cheers with a touchdown pass from Johnny Riggs to the outstretched arms of Jamal Williams, just minutes into the second quarter. Payton and Gram sat in the front row of the skybox seats and cheered loudly every time the Storm made it close to the end zone. I chatted with a few of the honored guests and kept the drinks flowing and the food moving in and out of the kitchen. I was happy when the team scored, but my heart wasn’t in the game, and now that the stadium was finished and the team was playing, I was ready to let go and start my new adventure. The problem was that I had to keep acting interested until I could get all the pieces in place for Finn and me to start the management company.

  At halftime, I sat down next to Payton and took her hand. She understood that we needed to perform for the audience in the skybox, so she leaned over and kissed me as the rest of the guests watched. I smiled and pushed a piece of hair away from her face as I asked her if she wanted another beer, but to an observer it would look like we were whispering sweet nothings to one another. I chafed under the need to do these things, but I knew it was necessary.

  At the start of the third quarter, the Storm scored another touchdown and took the lead. Gram and Payton were cheering loudly and celebrating with the other skybox guests as I stood in the back and thought about whether to shut down beer sales at the end of the quarter. I wasn’t certain that it would make a difference in what would happen after the game, so I decided to let it go and see what would come of it. I hoped there we
re enough security guards monitoring the parking lots and stadium to handle anything that got out of hand. At the end of the quarter, the Lions scored a touchdown and tied the game.

  By the middle of the fourth quarter, the Storm managed to make a field goal from the 30-yard line and that sent the crowd in to a frenzy as they cheered their team on. The Lions seemed deflated as their offense took the field after the kick, and I crossed my fingers hoping that the Storm could hold on to their lead. As the minutes ticked off the clock, the Lions moved closer to the goal line, and I held my breath. If they went for the field goal, they’d tie it up again, but if they pushed harder, they’d score and win.

  As I stood stock still watching the Lions offense line up on the 48-yard line, I realized I was crossing my fingers and hoping for a win. As they drove down the field, the Storm defense covered every receiver as closely as possible and when the Lions quarterback threw the ball, it hung in the air for a long time before descending downward in a spiral right into the hands of the waiting…defensive lineman!

  “Holy shit!” I shouted.

  The crowd went wild as Theo Cook tore up the field as fast as his bulk would allow and made it to the 35-yard line before he was taken down by the Lions offense. When Cook jumped up from under the pile of players, he was surrounded by his teammates high-fiving him and slapping his back. There was pandemonium in the stadium as the crowd cheered and the Storm set up for what would be one of the final plays. I could see Riggs pumping the team up in the circle as he called the play, they lined up and Riggs began calling out play numbers as the offense tried to hold themselves to the line. Riggs dropped back, searching the field for a receiver. He scrambled to the left as the Lions defense broke through the line and chased him down, and in an instant, he launched the ball and as it spiraled through the air, Jamal Williams popped up out of nowhere and grabbed it. Williams turned and ran for the goal, but was flattened by the Lions defense at the 5-yard line.

  I smiled as I realized the clock was down to less than 15 seconds and that this would be the last play of the game. The Storm would win its first league game on its home field in its new stadium, and as Riggs called the play, the clock ticked down and the fans began celebrating. Riggs handed the ball off and the running back made his best attempt to plow through the center, but was held at the second-yard line and the game ended with the Storm beating the Lions 17-14.

  Gram and Payton were cheering and hugging as they watched the team leave the field. I smiled and shook the hands of all the guests, anxious to get them out and on their way so I could go home and get away from the noise. Payton turned and smiled at me, and I waved as she and Gram excitedly discussed the most important plays and then evaluated how they could have been better.

  I rubbed my forehead as I tried to stave off what I knew would be a whopper of a headache as I thanked the last of the guests, and shut the door behind them.

  “Ready to go home?” I asked Payton before turning to Gram. “Did you have fun?”

  “Did I ever! You’ve done a wonderful job, David,” she smiled as she patted my cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Gram,” I said, hugging her and kissing her cheek. “Get ready for the Packers in two weeks!”

  “We’re gonna kill ‘em,” Gram growled as she headed out the door and down to the waiting hired car. “Come for dinner this week, you two.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, cutting Payton off before she could promise that we would.

  In the Navigator, Payton ran through the details of the game again as I sat silently resting my head against the back seat. She threw out statistics and plays that I’d never heard of, nor did I care about, but I nodded my head and acted like I knew what she was talking about.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t seem to excited about all of this,” she asked as she squeezed my hand.

  “No, I’m excited. Go team,” I said unconvincingly. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Well, if you don’t want to listen to me talk about your team, then just say so,” she huffed.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that without starting an argument, so we spent the rest of the ride home in silence.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Payton

  It took a better part of the week to thaw the icy silence between Dax and I, and by Thursday we were once again out on the town, sharing a meal. I’d picked Nando’s Peri Peri Chicken because I knew we needed to enjoy a meal without the hassle of being followed by the paparazzi, and since it was close to the penthouse, we could sneak out the back and walk down the alley to the restaurant.

  As we walked, I reached out to take Dax’s hand only to have him quickly stick his hand in his pocket as he searched for his phone. I tried to brush it off, but the rebuff stung. Dax seemed to understand what he’d done and tried to make it up by starting a conversation.

  “You ready to head down to Nashville?” he asked after we’d placed our orders and found a booth near the back of the place.

  “I’m looking forward to it. The Titans are a formidable team,” I said before voicing my concern. “How’s Johnny doing?”

  “Who?”

  “Riggs, the quarterback?” I said, noticing the way that Dax was scanning the room as if looking for someone.

  “Oh, right,” he nodded, turning his attention back to me. “Fine, I guess. If there was a problem, I’d have heard about it from Nick by now.”

  “Why do you dislike the Storm?” I blurted, knowing full well that I was opening a Pandora’s box.

  “I don’t dislike them,” Dax replied. “I just don’t care about football.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you push for the franchise if you don’t care about the game?”

  “I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, coming from a family whose life revolves around the game,” he said. “But some of us do things simply to see if we can.”

  I opened my mouth to say something cutting, but before I could get the words out, a small, bald man with a mustache dressed in khakis and a blue polo walked up to the table saying, “Say cheese!” as he pulled out a camera and snapped a series of photos in rapid succession.

  “C’mon, man,” Dax protested throwing up a hand to block the pictures. “We’re just trying to have a conversation.”

  “Sorry, you’re out in public and I’ve got a deadline,” the man said as he snapped one more photo and then walked away.

  “Son of a bitch,” Dax muttered as the server brought our food out and placed it in front of us. “Can we get this to-go?”

  The server cast a worried look in my direction, and when I nodded, she picked up the plates and carried them back to the kitchen. Dax said nothing as we waited, and the server quickly returned with a plastic bag holding our dinners. She offered an apology, but Dax was already half way out the door and didn’t hear it.

  “It’s not you,” I assured her and then slipped her a twenty before joining Dax in the alley.

  I could feel him fuming as we quickly walked back to the penthouse, but I wasn’t sure what to say to diffuse the tension. Part of me wanted to scream, “I told you so!” and lay into him about being so hell bent on publicity, but something else nagged at me and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but I felt sorry for him despite the fact that he was getting exactly what he’d stipulated in the contract. When we got back to the penthouse, Dax disappeared into his office and I ate dinner at the long, wide kitchen table all by myself.

  Three days later, we stepped off the plane into the still summer-hot Nashville morning sun. The Storm had flown into the city on Friday and had a light practice on Saturday. Now they were in the locker room prepping for the one o’clock kickoff. I’d spent the week studying Johnny’s stats and wanted to talk with Nick before the game about them, but I knew better than to show my face in the locker room before the match up. If Nick wanted my opinion, he would have asked.

  As Dax and I made our way to the skybox reserved for the visiting team owners and their
guests, he took my hand and squeezed it. I didn’t let go, but it felt forced and I was resentful of the obvious publicity opportunity. When we got to the skybox, Dax secured us drinks and we took our place in the large leather lounge chairs that looked out over the Titan’s field. I wanted to say something, but Dax’s sullen silence gave me no opening.

  Soon guests began arriving and the box began to fill up. Before he got up, Dax grabbed my hand and squeezed it again as he gruffly said, “Thank you, lady.”

  I smiled and then got up to welcome the politicians and business leaders Dax asked to join us for the game. I spent the first half of the game engaging in the requisite chit-chat required of me, and was not thrilled when I realized that I’d missed two touchdowns. I vowed to find a way to watch the rest of the game, even if it meant I’d have to leave the skybox and find a place to stand at the back of the stadium.

  “Payton, why don’t you come sit over here by me,” Dax called as the second half got under way. I flashed him a grateful smile as I took a seat on his left side, away from all of the guests and chatter.

  The second half was a nail-biter as the Titans ran the ball straight up the field and came close to scoring another touchdown. The Storm defense kept them at bay, and the Titans were forced to kick for a 25-yard field goal. On the approach, their kicker’s foot slid out from under him and he whiffed the kick, missing the field goal and keeping the Storm within striking distance.

  Johnny Riggs called the first play after the punt and the Storm were off and running down the field as if their shoes were on fire. I clenched my fists and pounded my leg as I rooted for them to make the first-down. They did, and the next play Riggs handed off to Brady Greene who ran the ball all the way down the field just inside the sideline and scored the touchdown that would make the score 14-7. The Storm was winning their second game.