Fake Bride: A Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (Forbidden First Times Book 2)

by Summers, Sofia T

  “I…” I was so scared, I had gotten used to not feeling scared and now I was feeling terribly, terribly scared. That was Pete, that was what he looked like. I didn’t know how he had found me after I’d been so careful to cover up my tracks, but he had, and I didn’t know what to do now. Could I run again? But what if he only found me a second time? How far would I have to run before he gave up? What if he never gave up?

  Maybe—it was a crazy thought but maybe—I should’ve stayed in Ireland and eventually applied for a visa there. Maybe I should’ve just hopped across Europe, across the whole world, staying in a place only long enough to have a job that got me enough money to move onto the next city. Maybe I had been complacent. After all, it wasn’t paranoia if someone was really after you.

  “I… please don’t let him in,” I said faintly. I felt cold all over. “I’m going to go lie down.”

  Edith called after me, sounding alarmed, but I didn’t know how to answer her. I just couldn’t. If I started to try and tell her I would break down and I couldn’t break down. I just couldn’t break down.

  I curled up in bed, pulling the covers up and over. I felt like I was in a safe little cocoon. I knew I had to leave. I had to pack my things immediately and get out of here. But even though I didn’t want to live in a co-op forever, I didn’t want to just up and leave. Chicago had become my home. I had people here that I cared about, people I would never be able to see or talk to again if I left.

  Why did he have to come and ruin everything? Why did he have to be like this? Did he get off on the power of it? For a moment I wished that he would find some other person to fixate on instead—and then I was horrified at myself for wishing such a thing onto someone else. Nobody deserved to be treated the way that Pete had treated me.

  That was, I was pretty sure, around the time I started crying. I felt like I was in some kind of stupor. I cried and cried like I hadn’t done in… I couldn’t even remember when. By the time I finished I felt like everything that I was, all of my emotions, had been drained out of me and I was just this… limp rag doll that someone had kicked and kicked until all the stuffing had gone out of her.

  I was floating somewhere between asleep and awake, wishing for the former but unable to get to it, when I heard a voice. It was slow and soothing, and at first, I honestly didn’t recognize it. I was just drifting, and I let it wash over me like warm water in a jacuzzi. I had no idea how long it went on. At first I could get nothing, understand nothing. It was just the sound of the voice that was so nice and soothing, so relaxing, slowly getting rid of the paralyzed feeling in my brain.

  Then I began to not just hear but understand, to know the words. It took me another moment to really believe them, because they weren’t what I’d expected. I’d thought I’d hear words of encouragement, words of reassurance. Instead…

  “So that’s why it’s really important to slow roast the first time…”

  …instead I was getting a lecture on coffee.

  “What the fuck?” I blurted out.

  I sat up, blankets still wrapped tightly around me, to see Laird sitting on the side of the bed, smiling softly at me. “Hey,” he said, his hand landing on my knee. “You’re back.”

  “You’re talking to me about coffee!? Seriously? That’s what you decided—I’m telling Liam about this. I’m never letting you live this down. Coffee!?”

  Laird spluttered. “I figured you would need something to distract you from whatever was upsetting you! It was the first thing I could think of, and it’s… you know it’s something I can talk about for hours.”

  “Yeah, you sure can, apparently,” I grumbled.

  “I can talk about Irish whisky. Or what it’s like to be an altar boy. Bloody boring stuff.” Laird smiled at me, but very softly and carefully, less enthusiastically and freely than usual. “Do you want me to get you anything to eat? Or just some water? I feel like maybe alcohol isn’t the best bet right now.”

  I couldn’t resist smiling back at him. Laird just had that effect on me, even right now when I was in possibly my worst moment.

  Laird squeezed my knee. “Seriously, love. What’s wrong? You shut down for a little bit there.”

  I had read about that online, in the forums that I frequented. Other abuse survivors called it different things, such as “freezing” or “shutting down.” I wasn’t sure exactly why I shut down like this instead of doing something more useful, like fleeing or even just staying and fighting, whatever that looked like, but… this was my reaction.

  “Um. Yes.” I took a few deep breaths. “I can’t be here, I’m sorry. I can’t be here.” I probably shouldn’t even be in Chicago anymore, but I meant, in that moment, the co-op. What if Pete stopped by again while I was still here? What if he tried to barge his way in? Sure, legally he’d be in trouble because Edith would call the cops on his ass but that wouldn’t help me if he had already beaten me or dragged me off or… something. I couldn’t even think what.

  “You can’t be here,” Laird repeated slowly, like he was sorting through what that meant. “All right. Well, would you like to go back to my place, then? Would you feel better there?”

  I thought about it. Laird’s apartment complex had a doorman, and while I didn’t know the details, I did know that it had security features around, like cameras and that sort of thing. The co-op only had Edith. With so many people sharing the space and so little privacy already, she didn’t want anyone to feel like they were being spied on or like their privacy was being taken. We all looked out for each other, but I’d rather actual security over actual people who didn’t deserve to become the victims of Pete’s wrath as he tried to get to me.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “I—I’d feel a lot better, please, if we were at your place.”

  “Don’t even worry about it,” Laird promised me. “Here, let’s get all your stuff together. You can stay with me as long as you need.”

  I was surprised. “Um… wow. Thank you, you don’t…”

  “Have to? Trudie, I want to.” Laird gave me an incredulous look, like he was surprised that I would think anything else. “I’m happy to—to help you, in any way that I can. In any way that you want me to. If that means you need someone to stay with you, someone you feel safe with, then I’m happy to do that. My home is your home, if you want it to be.”

  He couldn’t really mean that forever. He only meant it in a… a temporary way. That was how people always meant it. That was how friends were with each other, you offered each other safe havens and support. Laird didn’t mean that he wanted me to stay as in… stay. Not in a romantic, ‘move in with me’ kind of way. I had to be careful to remember that. Laird was a generous and caring person. I couldn’t mistake one thing he said for another, just because I wished that it was so.

  “Please,” I said, feeling pathetic but also wanting so desperately to be taken care of that it felt like the worst sort of ache in my chest. I felt taken care of with Laird, and it was so comforting, and addictive in a way, because it had been so long since I had felt looked after and cared for like that.

  Laird pulled back, and at first I thought that it was to pull away, but then he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in, tucking me against his chest so that I was practically in his lap. I felt so warm and safe, I nearly started crying. “Don’t you worry, love, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

  Oh, shit.

  That meant I had to tell him about Pete.

  28

  Laird

  I was genuinely scared for Trudie. I’d never seen her behave like this before, no matter how much stress she was under because of the whole fake marriage thing. I’d never seen anyone behave like this, actually. It was worrying, to say the bloody least.

  Just because I’d never seen anyone behave like this, though, didn’t mean that I was fucking stupid. I’d figured out a while ago that there was some kind of trauma in Trudie’s past, and this was that trauma manifesting. Something had happened that triggered her into this�
�� panic attack, I supposed, for lack of a better term. I was worried about what it had been that triggered her, especially since she said she didn’t feel safe here. Was someone after her? Was she afraid of an attack of some kind?

  I helped her to pack up her things—she didn’t have much, and most of it was just the clothes that I’d bought her in preparation for the trip—and then I spoke to Edith about how I would be having her stay with me for a bit. Edith was perfectly understanding and tried to resist the cash that I gave her, but I insisted.

  “Trudie’s a good girl,” Edith promised me. “You look after her right, or I’ll be boxing your ears.”

  “You sound like my mum,” I told her in response, cracking a smile. “I’ll look after her, ma’am, don’t you worry.”

  Trudie was silent on the drive over to my place, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence as before. It was more like she wanted time to gather her thoughts, like she was thinking through things rather than just shutting down. That was a good thing, I told myself, even as my stomach continued to twist with worry. It was good that she was thinking through all of this, that she wasn’t just vacant inside.

  I ordered us some takeout once we got to my apartment, since I figured it had been a while since she’d eaten and I didn’t want to have to tear my focus away from her to cook. Trudie went onto the couch, docile as a lamb, the moment that I shepherded her there. That was even more alarming—Trudie was shy when she’d first met me, yeah, she was shy and skittish with everyone. But easily led? Hell no. She still had sass and she still spoke her mind, even when it looked like it was a struggle for her to do so.

  Whatever was fucking her up had fucked her up but good.

  After I ordered the dinner, I sat down next to her. I had been so careful with the pet names, only saying ‘love’ since, well, that was a part of the Irish bit, it was something we all called each other easily. My mum called everyone she knew ‘love’. So that slipped out, sometimes, and I just couldn’t help it.

  But other words, words like sweetheart or babe, those I had steered well clear from. Now, though, to hell with it. Who the bloody hell cared if she realized I cared about her, more than as a friend? Trudie was in danger and I wanted her to know that I’d do anything to help her out of it, even if that danger was only from herself, in her mind. If she needed a therapist, hell, I’d get her a therapist. No questions asked.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked her, keeping my voice warm and quiet so that I didn’t startle her.

  Trudie leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath. “I have to tell you something, and I need you… to just be quiet for a bit until I get through all of it. And once I do that I… I don’t know what next, and it’s okay if you’re angry at me for not telling you any of this, but I just wanted to put it all behind me and I didn’t see how it was relevant, so… and I, um, I’ve only told Red, so that he would be prepared in case something happened. He’s been really kind. But it’s still hard to tell people—and I didn’t want you treating me like—like you could—I liked that you were getting to just know me as myself. Without—without any pity or anything.”

  “I couldn’t ever pity you.”

  “But people look at me differently when they know.” Trudie rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “And it makes me feel like… like such shit.”

  “Hey.” I gently rubbed her back, between her shoulder blades. “I promise, I won’t look at you any differently. You’re still you.” You’re still the woman I love.

  Trudie nodded, and then took a few deep, steadying breaths. I remembered that she’d asked me not to say anything, so I kept quiet.

  And the whole thing unspooled in front of me. I had known that… bloody hell, of course I’d known that something was up. But I’d had no idea that it was that terrible, that bad, that she’d basically been a prisoner in her own home and life. The tale she spun out for me probably sounded to her like something sad, something to be pitied, but I was just so proud of her. Not everyone could’ve made it out of what she’d endured. It was smart of her, to change her name and her hair, to get the hell out, to zigzag across the country to try and shake off a tail.

  “You know now, why I… why I wasn’t sure about saying yes to you,” Trudie explained. “Pete was so nice at first. So charming. And then he just got… it was like walking into a spider trap but the web was all lined with honey. All sweet and distracting.”

  “And you couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t turn out the same way,” I reasoned. It made total sense to me. It explained why she was so skittish, especially around men, why she didn’t let a lot of men touch her, why she’d had so little to write down about her past and her personal life.

  She’d had no personal life. And writing all of that down on her notepad for the sake of a joke on my family would’ve been… just fucking wrong. It wasn’t like it was the kind of thing that would’ve come up to my family, anyway.

  Trudie nodded. “I didn’t really know how to explain it all. It’s not really something you dump on someone right away, it’s not a…” She blushed. “…first date kind of talk. But then the longer it went on the harder it was to tell you because it felt like I was lying to you and there as an expiration date on all of it anyway so… why bother? And I didn’t think it would be a problem, I didn’t think that he would… that he would really show up here.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “I should’ve assumed. I should’ve gotten out of the United States, I should’ve fled all the way to China. I should’ve known that he would come after me. He’s… Pete’s very possessive, and he hated it if I so much as looked at one of his friends or one of the men at the garage, even though he was always showing me off to them.” Trudie reached up to touch her eye, her temple, almost subconsciously, like she was remembering something—remember a strike, a blow, I realized with a sickening jolt to my stomach.

  Anger raged in me. I wasn’t really a violent or angry person. Liam had always been the one with a bit of a temper. It was why our parents had gotten him into sports as a way to work out his energy, learn to deal with frustration constructively, and to be thoughtful of other people. But right now? Right now I was filled with a fury that I’d never experienced before.

  How could anyone treat anyone else with that kind of vile behavior—especially someone like Trudie? How could you look at Trudie and feel anything other than a bone-deep softness, a need to protect and care for her? How could you look at her and even consider, even for a moment, being violent with her?

  I didn’t understand it. But I knew that I’d do everything in my power to keep her safe from this guy.

  “But I don’t understand how he found me,” Trudie went on. “You understand that’s why I—why I asked about the money. Not just compensation for going on the trip but actual payment.” She looked up at me. “I didn’t want to. It felt wrong. And that was even before I got to know you and see what a wonderful person you are. But I needed that money to make sure that he can’t touch me again. To get a restraining order and pay a lawyer, to make sure that my fake name sticks—although that didn’t really do me any good, I know.” She gave a rueful laugh. “So that was… that was why I needed it. To really start over and feel safe away from him. And now…”

  Trudie’s eyes welled up with tears and my anger washed away in a flood of empathy. I still wanted to find this Pete bugger and dash his bloody brains in but that wasn’t as important as making sure that Trudie felt safe and cared for. I pulled her into me, cradling her, holding her tightly. I wouldn’t normally have dared, not now that our… ‘arrangement’ was over… but she clung to me and she clearly needed comfort.

  “Oh, my love,” I whispered, petting her hair. “It’s all right. Don’t you fret. I’ll fix it. The bastard won’t ever touch you again.”

  I meant that. I would keep Trudie safe, whatever it took. I had the money and resources. And if worst came to worst, I boxed regularly and had grown up wrestling with Liam constantly. I could
hold my own and show this guy Pete a thing or two. That was the thing about most abusers—deep down they were actually cowards, and scared. They let that fear dictate their actions and rule them, and that was how they became like this.

  Trudie held onto me and cried for a bit, and I just kept stroking her hair and soothing her. I had no idea how long we sat there, but I knew that I didn’t care. I’d sit there forever if that was what it took. I kept calling her sweetheart and love, and maybe it was revealing how I felt, but at that point, I didn’t really care either. She was going to find out eventually. I just wanted her to feel safe.

  Eventually she relaxed and her crying subsided. I kept her there for a bit longer, still soothing her, and then pulled back enough that she could see my face. “Why don’t you go take a nice warm shower. That always helps me when I’m feeling like shit. The takeout should be here soon, and we can eat, and then get some rest. This will all feel better in the morning and we can figure out what to do.”

  Trudie seemed to ponder that for a moment, then she nodded. “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure,” I promised her. “I want you to feel good, before anything else. You can’t make good decisions while you’re starving and upset.”

  The corner of her lips quirked upwards, and I hoped that I’d succeeded in lightening her load just a little bit. “Go on,” I encouraged, nudging her with my elbow. “Steal all the hot water, knock yourself out.”

  The hot water actually wouldn’t run out. I had an amazing shower and the water pressure was fucking fantastic. But Trudie smiled a little more at the joke and went off to take advantage of the offer.

  I sank back against the couch, rubbing my face as a heavy sigh worked its way out of me. This explained so much about her. All of her behavior, and her asking for the money, made so much sense now. I had suspected that she had some kind of bad thing in her past, perhaps some kind of trauma, but I’d had no idea it was this bad.