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

by Claire Adams

  It was rare that we spent more than a day apart, but he had been working so hard on tonight’s event that I had stayed largely out of his way for the better part of two days. He had been working feverishly to make sure the event would go off without a hitch. Besides, my apartment needed to be packed up, hence the reason I couldn’t find anything. Half of the place was already in boxes, and the other half was scattered in piles and stacks and general mountains of disorder.

  I was moving in with Owen at the end of the week, a date which would mark one year of happiness for us. He had popped the question about moving in to me over dinner just a week prior, and since I already spent the majority of my time at his place anyway, there didn't really seem to be any reason to continue to pay rent here.

  “Come on, Nalia!” Grace shouted from the hallway, her tone bordering on agitated. Probably not because I was running behind as much as she was having to listen to Jackson go on about me running behind. When it came to Jackson, she had a rather short fuse, and her moods could switch in a blink. Plus, she was ready to go. For some reason, she was more excited than I would have thought for tonight’s event. We were all excited, though.

  I had cried like a baby when Owen had casually mentioned a few months before that he was putting on a black tie charity event for the local orphanage. After growing up in and out of orphanages, I had a heart for helping in that area, and there were a great deal of kids growing up like I had who were going to benefit from his generosity.

  The thought of my own past and the fact that he was so dedicated to helping people who were going through such hardships really made my heart swell with both pride and love. It made me even more proud to call him mine, and ever so grateful to have someone like him in my life. I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve someone as kind and generous as Owen but, whatever it was, I thanked God for it.

  Finding my shoes, I slipped them on and grabbed my purse, adjusting my dress as I clacked down the hall until I stood before them. “How do I look?”

  “Like a woman who’s making me late,” Jackson jabbed, rolling his eyes. “Come on, seriously, we are going to be late if we don't get a move on. C'mon, hustle! Let's go, let's go!”

  I socked him in the shoulder as we walked out to his car. “No need to be such a grouch! We'll get there on time, take a pill. Besides, you know I’m not going to be late for Owen’s big event, as hard as he’s been working on this. He's been so stressed about every detail of this event being right for, well, for a long time now. It's really taken it out of him.”

  “I’m sure you can provide him with some extra special relief,” Grace giggled from the front passenger seat eliciting a loud groan from Jackson. He had finally come around to the fact that Owen and I were a couple, but there were times I still thought my brother felt like it was going to fall apart at any moment.

  Thankfully, he and Owen got along pretty well now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my brother finally got used to the fact that I had, in fact, wrangled the wild rock star and not only locked him down, but domesticated him, as well. He'd never believed that such a thing could have been possible, but there I was—there we were.

  “Do you think the mayor will come tonight?” Grace asked as she checked her reflection in the visor mirror, making sure that everything was perfectly in place and that her makeup looked as good as it had when she had left her house. “I honestly can’t believe I’m attending this event,” she said, sounding overly excited, almost like a middle school girl going to a high school party.

  I eyed my friend, wondering why she was so enthusiastic. While I was blown away by some of the names that were going to be present, Grace had been in the limelight for so long that I just assumed she knew most everyone and that she’d grown used to attending events like this. Surely once you'd been to enough of these things, you'd get over them and perhaps even begin to see them as something of a chore, right? But there she was, acting like a girl heading to her first prom.

  Unlike Grace, I no longer felt the need to be famous. Once upon a time, I thought that if I got myself out there that all of my dreams would come true, but recently I had come to realize that I already had everything I needed. Owen was so much more than I could have ever imagined or wished for, and I couldn’t wait to see what else our lives would hold for the future. Now that his touring days were behind him, he had really delved into his record label, signing some new talent that, in my opinion, was going to make him a great deal of money. The sky was the limit for the future.

  “Wow. I don’t think the orphanage has ever looked so good,” I remarked as we pulled into the parking area.

  I gazed up at the brick building with pride, admiring some of the changes that had been made thanks to my new foundation—the one I was funding with sales from my songs.

  It wasn’t much yet, but I wanted to do what I could, and I wanted the children that stayed there to think of this place as a home, not a jail or a place of purgatory. It had to be, above all, a place in which they could feel safe and wanted. With Owen’s help, I had started to oversee some renovations to the building and land, changes that I was really proud of. Tonight’s fundraiser would hopefully allow me to expand and help other orphanages as well.

  I focused on the spotlight shining brightly on the name of the building as, below it, elegantly clad men and women ambled through the doors, heading through to the gymnasium where the event was being held. Owen and I had gone back and forth on where to hold the event. In the end, we had both finally decided that having it here where the attendees could see where their money was going was the most sensible option.

  We climbed out of the car and made our way up the stairs, then headed down the hallway to the gym, which, in stark contrast to its usual simplicity, had been turned into a formal affair. A pianist was situated on stage, playing some soft music while everyone mingled. I was a little in awe of the big names in attendance, including politicians, musicians, and a few actors. Knowing my boyfriend, he had probably just gone through his Rolodex and casually pulled out names of people he thought might support our cause; he was extremely well-connected.

  “I’m off to mingle!” Grace announced cheerfully as we walked through the door, immediately disappearing into the crowd. I looked at my brother, and we both shook our heads. I had no idea what had gotten into my bestie, but she seemed to be very into the event.

  “Do you see Owen?” I asked Jackson, surveying the attendees for the familiar face that still got my pulse racing every time I laid eyes on it.

  “No, I don’t see him, but I do see food, and lots of it. Delicious, delicious food.”

  I rolled my eyes. If there was one thing my brother could do, it was eat.

  “Come on then, I know what you're after. Let’s get something to eat.”

  I followed the path he made through the crowd over to the buffet. The spread was impressive. Definitely gourmet quality, but as suave and sophisticated as the hors d’oeuvres were, I was pretty sure we would still be hitting up a fast food joint at the end of the night on the way home.

  “This is a pretty sweet layout,” Jackson admitted as we stood around, nibbling on the appetizers. “Owen really pulled this off. I wasn't expecting him to go all out with the catering like this.”

  “Leave it to you to judge an event based on the food,” I joked, my attention wavering as I scanned the crowd for Owen.

  I spotted Talon in the distance, so I excused myself and walked over, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around, moving with cat-like grace. As soon as he saw me, he grinned cheekily and allowed his eyes to rove up and down my figure for a few moments. I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw the gesture.

  “Nalia, you look hot,” he drawled, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Have I told you how lucky a man my brother is?” he winked.

  I gave him a once over in return. He looked rather dashing in his tux, the way it was molded to his lean frame. “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I replied warmly. “Thank you so much f
or coming, Talon. It means a lot to us.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said, patting his pocket. “Hell, I already have my donation all written up. No way I'm not chipping my share in for such an awesome project. You guys really have done a great thing here. Respect.”

  “Well, the orphanage will appreciate it, I can guarantee that. Hey, have you seen your brother around here?”

  Talon laughed. “You mean the nervous wreck I passed earlier? The man is a billionaire—how the hell he can be so nervous about a charity event is beyond me. Sheesh. You'd think he'd never stood up in front of a crowd in his life before. Weird, huh?”

  “I don’t know why he's be so nervous, but I better find him. Talk him down,” I sighed. “Enjoy yourself, and don't party too hard. Yet!”

  “Yet!” he replied with a laugh. “That's the key word, my dear, yet!”

  I walked on, wondering where Owen could be. Finally, I spotted him near the stage. “Hey, sweetheart, why are you hiding out over here?”

  “Hey, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. He looked drop-dead sexy in his white tux, his hair carefully styled and held in place with so much gel that I was sure it wouldn’t move even in a hurricane. “You look good enough to eat. Way tastier than any of the swanky dishes I had the catering company whip up. Kinda making me hungry,” he said with a grin.

  “Later,” I promised as he pulled me to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “And speaking of the catering company, wow! I think it’s safe to say that this event is a success already. You did an amazing job, my love. The orphanage is going to benefit greatly from this.”

  “I’m just glad I could help with something that means so much to you,” he told me, his expression tender.

  I melted against him, once again finding it hard to believe how lucky I was. And believe me, it had nothing to do with the money or who Owen was professionally. I loved Owen for Owen and would have loved him for his heart and soul had he been penniless. I was absolutely sure I would love him for the rest of my life.

  “Come on, let's get things moving. We've got a schedule to stick to, and we don't want to waste anyone's time. A lot of big names have come out to support this, and we don't want to let 'em down,” he reminded me, tugging on my waist.

  I followed him up the steps and onto the stage where the pianist was just finishing up a number. Owen nodded to him, and he stood, exiting the stage as Owen moved to the front of it. As soon as he was in front of the crowd, any trace of nervousness he’d had seemed to vanish. The stage really was a place where he felt truly at home, whether in a small dive bar in front of a dozen people, or on an arena stage in front of a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people.

  “Good evening!” he shouted as if he were at a concert. “And thank you all for coming tonight. This is a very special night because we're all here to honor a cause that is very dear to someone who is very dear to me. My amazing girlfriend, Ms. Nalia Dean.

  “I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge all the selfless work she's done for this orphanage. Your contributions tonight will continue the progress we have been fortunate enough to make from a humble beginning and hopefully, many other orphanages in the future. I promise you that your generous contributions will make this place a safe, wonderful home for these children for many years to come.

  “You're not just building a place, ladies and gentlemen. You're not just stacking bricks and cement on top of one another. No, you're building lives. Beautiful, wonderful lives, full of hope and promise for the future.”

  He then looked over at me, motioning for me to join him. I put on a smile as I nervously stepped up next to him, wondering what on earth he was about to do.

  “As many of you might know, Nalia is a very talented pianist, and we have been working on her album in the studio for a few months now. Would you like to hear a song from her?”

  I blushed as the crowd clapped and whistled. Owen was smiling down at me, nodding in encouragement. He leaned over to whisper some encouraging words in my ear. “Show off, babe.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped over to the piano and sat down at the keys. I launched into a new song, surprised when Owen came to stand behind me, the mic in his hand. He began to sing the lyrics. We had practiced a few times before, but his voice still brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because he was singing a song we had created together, and he sang from his heart what we created from the heart.

  The crowd fell silent as I poured myself into the song. And with the intensity of the music and the performance, coupled with Owen’s sweet voice, my heart was overwhelmed with love for him. His voice trailed off as he finished the lyrics and waited as I finished the last few notes. I simply sat there for a moment, my heart pounding in my ears as silence fell over the entire space.

  Then, abruptly, the place erupted with shouts and cheers louder than I could have ever imagined. Smiling bright, I stood and glanced back, intending to prompt Owen to take a bow with me.

  But he wasn’t where I had expected to see him. Instead, my eyes fell toward the floor where Owen was behind me on bended knee. In his hand, he held a small, black box. The crowd’s applause died to silence, and Owen looked up at me, smiling with tears rimming his eyes.

  “Nalia Dean, no one has ever made me feel the way I do when I am with you, and I don’t ever want to find out what it feels like not to have you by my side. You are the most compassionate, loving person I have ever known, and I am so damn happy to have you in my life. I love you, more than any words could ever express. So, in front of all these witnesses, I’m asking if you will make me the happiest man on the planet. Will you marry me?” He opened the black box, revealing the most exquisite ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “Owen,” I whispered as my hand covered my mouth in surprise, tears blurring my eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, I will. A million times, yes.”

  He smiled and slipped the ring on my finger before rising to gather me in his arms, kissing me and holding me tightly against him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  “For what?” I asked, pulling back to look at him.

  “For taking a chance on me. For believing in what we could be. We are going to make a beautiful future together.”

  And we did.

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  SLEEPING WITH MY BOSS

  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

  Chapter One

  Asher

  I glanced at myself in the mirror to see the image of a young man dressed in a subdued business suit reflecting back at me. He sat in silence on the sofa in the seating area, studying the artwork hanging on the wall next to the mirror.

  It was a large piece, perhaps five feet across and four feet high. It consisted of a small red square in the top left hand corner against a white background. Countering the geometric, ordered simplicity were splashes of bold color sprayed across the entire right hand side in a chaos of strokes. It was as though all of the artist's pent-up rage and frustration had been poured out onto that canvas. It was a work of genius, really. In a way, that red square represented everyone trying to play their roles and keep the madness, and chaos, contained and controlled.

  A young man approached and looked up at the artwork. He looked at the painting for a few seconds, shrugged, and then turned his attention to me.

  “Hi,” he said, somewhat nervously. “Do you mind?” He motioned to the empty seat next to me on the sofa. “I have a meeting in this boardroom in a few minutes,” he added as he nodded toward the closed door to our left.<
br />
  “Don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling warmly as I shifted to make more space for the newcomer. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” the young man replied, looking a bit flustered. His ill-fitting suit appeared to be uncomfortable, which only added to the somewhat flustered air he exuded. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his forehead and the sides of his neck.

  “I'm Jason, by the way,” he said to me as he put down his briefcase and took a seat.

  “Nice to meet you, Jason,” I said, extending a hand to the man. “I'm A—, er, Andrew . . . Andrew,” I replied as we shook hands. I caught myself before I could reveal too much. “I'm with the Sinclair Agency,” I added.

  “Nice to meet ya, Andrew.”

  “Are you with Winston?”

  “No. I'm also with Sinclair. You been at the agency long?” Jason questioned.

  I smiled strangely and nodded. “You could say that.”

  “It's my first month here,” Jason said. “I was just assigned to the PR project for the Harry Winston Watch Company like three days ago. Now, here I am presenting at a brainstorming meeting. I’m a bit of a nervous wreck. Word is the CEO of the agency, Asher Sinclair, isn't too happy about the performance of the latest line of athletic watches in the first quarter of the year.”

  I nodded. “I heard the same. Say, what's the word on Mr. Sinclair these days? What does the marketing department think about him?”

  Jason raised an eyebrow. “Uh, don't you already know a bunch about Asher Sinclair? I mean, you did say you've been working here a while. What department did you say you were with again? I didn't catch it the first time.”

  “I'm with finance. We don't chat too much about the boss. I think there are too many people who have to answer to him directly.”

  “Oh. Well, this might help. Check this out,” Jason said as he opened his briefcase and took out the latest issue of Forbes magazine. “There's a feature piece on Asher Sinclair in here.”