“I haven’t seen the papers, Mom,” I answer. “What did they say?”
“Well!” She exclaims and I swallow back another wave of frustration. Just spit it out! “When were you going to tell us you had a girlfriend! You let us find out like the rest of the world. I’ve been getting phone calls from all the girls at the club all morning!”
‘The girls at the club’ is code for the gaggle of women who pretend to be friends from the Country Club. They have nothing better to do than gossip about me, apparently. And they’d been calling her all morning? About my girlfriend?
I try to process what my mother is saying, but nothing makes sense.
“Mom, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Max, first you keep us in the dark, and then you lie to me! I’ve seen the photos!”
“What photos?”
“In the paper!”
The exasperation bubbles up inside me and threatens to boil over. I sit up in bed, taking a long, calming breath.
“Mom, I’m not lying. What paper did you see these photos in?” I start walking towards my laptop.
“The Post.”
“Oh my god, Mom,” I sigh. “That’s hardly where you get your news, is it?”
“Stop stalling, Max. When do we get to meet her?”
I fire up my laptop, tapping on the keyboard until I pull up the New York Post’s website. I only have to scroll to the second news story to see my face.
My stomach drops.
It’s my face… and Naomi’s.
“So…???” My mom huffs on the other end of the line. “Your father and I are going to come to the city to meet her.”
“Mom, no, I—”
“I need to go now, I’m getting another call. We’ll be there shortly. I’ll bring your grandmother’s ring.”
“Mom!”
The phone clicks and the line goes dead. I stare at my phone’s screen, and then back at the computer. There are half a dozen photos of Naomi in my arms. Even if we’re not kissing or embracing in any of them, we look… intimate. For once, I agree with my mom. If I’d seen these photos, I would think we were a couple.
Then, her final words finally sink in. I’ll bring your grandmother’s ring.
She thinks I’m going to marry Naomi!
My stomach tumbles and I try to dial my mom’s phone again, but it’s her turn to ignore my call. I find my dad’s number and call him.
“Dad—” I say, breathless, as he answers.
“Max,” he replies. “You spoke to your mother?”
“Yeah, about that. The girl in the photo, she’s—”
“Max, listen to me.” His voice is hard and I pause. My heart starts thumping. I only hear that tone in his voice when things were very, very wrong. “Your mother and I have been very patient with you. We saw you ruin not one, but two good relationships.”
“Farrah wasn’t—”
“Two good relationships,” he continues. “And we’re at the end of your rope. After the accident, I gave you a position at the company.”
“Dad, I don’t see what this—”
“It was with the understanding that you would make the family proud, and you would carry on the family name. Your mother and I are tired of reading about you gallivanting all over New York City. We’re tired of the gossip, tired of the stories, tired of it all. It’s not good for you and it’s not good for the company.”
Yeah, and you care more about the company than you do about me.
He pauses for dramatic effect, and it works. “So you have two choices right now.”
I hold my breath.
“You can either marry that woman, or you can give up your position at the company and all the benefits that go with that. You’ll no longer be part of this family. Not now, not in my will, nothing.”
“What?”
“You heard me. We’re sick of this. If this woman is suitable, then she’s the one.”
“She’s the ‘one’?! If she’s ‘suitable’? What the fuck?”
“Your bachelor lifestyle has gone on long enough. This has to end.”
My eyes widen and I almost drop my phone. I just barely hear him hang up. I’m glad I’m sitting at my desk, because my legs feel too weak to stand on.
I replay the two conversations I’ve just had with my parents over and over in my mind until I finally understand what’s going on: I can either marry Naomi, or lose my job, my inheritance, and my family.
Chapter 8 - Naomi
Sunday dinners at my mom’s house are a tradition. I walk out my door just after noon, still feeling slightly groggy from last night. I drank more than I usually do, but mostly all I can think about is Max. I keep replaying our conversation over and over in my head. I still don’t know if turning him down was the right decision.
Professionally? Absolutely.
Personally? I’m not so sure.
My mom lives halfway to Ithaca, in a little sleepy village on her own. She grows her own vegetables, and spends her days making art. So basically, she has the opposite life to mine. How I ended up at one of the busiest physical therapy practices in New York City is beyond me.
Maybe the sleepy little village was a little too sleepy for me.
It takes a couple hours to get there, so maybe the drive will clear my head. Maybe by the time I get there, I’ll have forgotten about last night. About Max.
Ariana calls me as I’m heading out the door.
“How’d your night end up?”
“It was fine,” I answer, pinning my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I lock my front door. “Got home about midnight.”
“Party animal,” she says sarcastically.
“That’s me,” I laugh.
“You still happy you turned down Mr. Westbrook?”
“Define ‘happy’.”
Ariana laughs.
“What about you?” I continue, heading down the steps towards the front door of my building. My car is parked on the street.
“Oh, I was home about three. I actually had a lot of fun! You wanna go out for a late lunch today?”
“Can’t, heading to my mom’s.”
“Oh, right, Sunday. Will she be disappointed in you that you were celebrating someone’s wedding?”
“She’s not that bad,” I laugh. “She just doesn’t want me to get married.”
“Too bad for Max.”
“Stop it,” I laugh. “Gotta go, just got to my car.”
“Call me tonight, maybe we can meet up when you get back.”
As soon as I say goodbye and hang up the phone, it rings again. I frown when I see the screen blinking with an unlisted number. Usually, I wouldn’t answer phone calls from people I don’t know, but something makes me move my thumb over the green circle.
“Hello?”
“Naomi! Hi. Hey. I, uh… it’s Max.”
“Max?” I frown. Max Westbrook? “How did you get my phone number?”
“You gave me your business card.”
“Oh. Right.” I lean against my car, frowning as I press the phone into my ear. Why is Max calling me? Butterflies explode all over my stomach.
“Sorry to call you on a Sunday.”
“That’s all right, is everything okay with you knee?” I ask the question, hoping that he’s not calling me about his knee. A part of me wants him to be calling me for me.
But that would be ridiculous… right?
“I’m not calling about my knee.”
The butterflies go nuts. I open my car door and slip inside, closing myself in against the noise and the cold of the street.
“Oh.”
“I was calling…” He trails off and I hear him sigh. “I’m calling…”
“Is everything okay?”
“Are you free right now? You want to meet for a coffee?”
“I…”
“I won’t ask you to come back to my place, I promise.”
I laugh despite myself. “Damn, I was hoping for a second chance.” I blush as soon as the
words come out of my mouth, and quickly cover it up by continuing: “I’m supposed to meet my mom, but I can probably spare an hour.”
“Great, is there a coffee shop near you? Where is convenient for you?”
“Yes, there are coffee shops near me,” I laugh. “This is New York City.”
“Right.” I can hear the grin in his voice.
“I’ll send you the name of one nearby. Meet you there in fifteen?”
My heart thumps as I drive towards the coffee shop. Why does Max want to meet? What could he possibly want to talk about?
Does he want to apologize for last night? Does he want to ask me out again?
Somehow, it seems more serious than that. His voice was strained. He seemed tense. He wasn’t his usual confident self.
I consider calling Meg or Ariana, but I decide to hold off. I want to see what he says first. They’d probably just tease me and make me more nervous than I already am.
Parking the car, I check the time. I have about an hour before I need to leave for my mom’s. That should be enough to hear him out… right?
I order a couple coffees and wait at a table by the window. It doesn’t take long for Max to arrive. I see him pull up in a sleek black sports car, walking out as if he were a movie star.
I mean, he might as well be. His family is ultra-rich, and he’s basically New York City’s golden boy. Or New York City’s favorite bad boy, whichever way you want to look at it. He closes the car door and I watch his biceps bulge with the movement. His clean white t-shirt stretches over his chiseled body, and I wonder for the thousandth time what he looks like unclothed.
He sees me right away and a smile breaks over his face. My heart flutters.
“I got you a regular black coffee, I don’t know what your drink order is.”
“Venti soy latte half foam half sweet extra hot, with whip” he rattles off as he slides into the chair.
“Oh, I…” really? That’s his order?
“I’m joking,” he laughs. “Black coffee is my drink order.” His eyes sparkle as he grins, and my heart melts.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I was worried for a second.”
“Why, can’t handle a man with a complicated coffee order?”
“I don’t think I can, no.”
“That says a lot about you, I’m afraid.”
“Call me old fashioned, but coffee is where I draw the line.”
Max laughs, and his perfect smile sends spears of warmth through my body. I squeeze my legs together, swallowing a sip of coffee to cover my blush.
“So, what’s up?” I ask when I’ve regained my composure.
Max’s smile melts off his face and he stares out the window. His fingers pay with the edge of his coffee cup, and his chest heaves as he takes a deep breath.
“First of all, I’m sorry about last night. I thought… I shouldn’t have…”
“It’s okay, Max. Under any other circumstances I would have been all over you.”
His eyes swing back to mine and I see the desire darken them. I lick my lips, wondering if I should have said that. What is our next physical therapy appointment going to be like? Can I still be a professional after this? Even meeting him here is probably inappropriate.
His appointment is tomorrow. I’ll be massaging his glutes, thinking about what he looks like naked.
Great.
Max leans his elbows on the table, staring at the space between us. Before I can stop myself, I reach over and put my hands over his. His skin is warm and smooth, and I can feel the strength of his broad hands underneath mine. He twists his fingers into mine and looks up at my face.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Okay…” I reply. My heart is thumping from the contact of our hands. I’m not sure I can handle much more of his intense gaze without wetting my pants with desire.
Right now, I’d do anything he asks.
“There were photos of us in the papers.”
“What?” I stiffen.
“In the Post. They saw us outside. I’m sorry.”
“I… what kind of photos?”
“Nothing bad. They caught us hugging.” He pulls his hand away and I yearn for the contact again. He reaches down and pulls out his phone, spinning it around to show me. My jaw drops as I take it from him.
“This says we’re dating. I could be fired! ‘Max Westbrook canoodles with mystery girl’?” I look at him. “Canoodles?!”
“I know.” He takes a deep breath. “I need—I would love—” He sighs. “It would help me out a lot if you pretended like we were engaged.”
You could hear a pin drop. My jaw falls open, and my eyes widen.
“What?”
“I know it’s crazy. I know. I’m not a psycho, I promise. It’s just…” His eyes go up towards the ceiling and then he closes them, taking a deep breath.
“My parents saw the photos. They told me that they were coming to meet you, and if this turned out to be another girl that didn’t matter, they would fire me from the company.”
“What?!”
“I’ll lose my job, my inheritance—everything. You don’t have to pretend forever! I just need to buy a little time until I can figure something out, until I can talk some sense into them.”
I stare at him, mouth agape.
“I’ll pay you for your time. I’ll talk to your boss. We can keep it quiet. I just…” His face crumples as his eyebrows draw together, and I already know I’m not going to be able to say no if I stay here much longer. “Please, Naomi. I’m desperate.”
“Let me think about it.”
He catches my hand before I can stand up, and drills his eyes into mine. “Naomi, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it. If I lose my job… I’ll lose everything. My family will cut me off and shut me out of their entire network. I’ll have nothing. Those people—they’re ruthless.”
I can hear the desperation in his voice. I swallow, and squeeze his hand.
“I just need you to pretend to be my fiancée for a month, maybe two. That will give me enough time to figure out my next move. I’ll give you a quarter million per month.”
I freeze.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
“Per month.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll call you tonight, give me your number. Yours was unlisted.”
Max nods, scratching his number on a napkin and handing it to me. “Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
Chapter 9 - Max
I watch Naomi get into her car and my heart squeezes. I drop my head into my hands and take a deep breath. I feel like I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have asked that of her. I shouldn’t have put her in that position. She must think I’m completely crazy.
But what else can I do?
I just need time. My parents will be here tomorrow at the latest, and they’ll want to know who the girl in the photo is. If I tell them she was just a girl I met at the bar, they’ll cut me off. If I tell them the truth, that she’s my physical therapist and that nothing is happening between us… well, they clearly didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. And if they don’t believe me, the consequences are too steep.
I can’t give up my entire life, my job, my income for something like this. I’ve already lost everything once, I can’t go through that again. I just need time to figure out my next move.
Naomi said she’d think about it, but what will she decide?
I’ll pay her, of course I will. I don’t give a fuck about the money. But the way she looked at me… I don’t want her to think less of me.
Between last night and today, it might be too late.
She told me that under different circumstances, she’d have been all over me. Even if that wasn’t a joke, I’m pretty sure I’ve burned that bridge forever now. I might have to find a new physical therapist after all.
I grab the coffee cup and head out towards my car. It only takes a few minutes for me to get to Joel’s house. He greets me i
n his boxers, with the face of someone who was out all night.
“Hey,” he grunts. “You look like hell.”
I chuckle. “You clearly haven’t looked in the mirror, then.”
“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing onto the couch. His hand flies to his forehead. “What happened last night?”
“I left pretty early.”
“With the physio? I saw you walk out with her.”
“Nah.”
Joel’s eyes widen and he looks at me. “She turned you down?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Right.” He coughs, clutching his stomach and groaning. “I’m never drinking again.”
I get up and get two glasses of water. Joel accepts it gingerly before gulping half of it down.
“So what happened?”
Instead of answering, I pull out my phone. I get the photos on the Post’s website up and turn the screen towards him. Joel frowns, staring at the pictures and trying to get his eyes to focus.
“What’s this?”
“Fucking paparazzi.”
“They’re still after you? Why do they care about you?”
“Fucked if I know.”
“So? What’s the big deal.”
“My parents have seen it.”
Joe’s mouth drops into a small ‘oh’, and he nods. “They think she’s ‘the One’?”
“They don’t think that. They’re sure of that. They’re coming to the city tomorrow to meet her.”
“What?!”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug, sighing. “I asked her to pretend.”
Joel sits up, planting his hands on his knees. He leans forward, staring at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
“You asked your physical therapist to pretend to be your fiancée so that your parents wouldn’t freak out about you being in the papers with some random woman again?”
I chuckle. “That about sums it up, yeah.”
“You’re a fucking lunatic.”
“Apple, tree, you know how it goes. They said they’d cut me off if I didn’t take this seriously.”
Joel leans back, staring at the wall in front of him. “So what did she say?”
Engaged to Mr. Right: A Fake Marriage Romance (Mr. Right Series Book 1) Page 4