Bad Boys Box Set: Complete Too Bad It’s Fake Romance Collection with New Novella

by Jamie Knight

  When the clock-radio came on the next morning, and I woke up with my beautiful girl in my arms, I couldn't help smiling to myself.

  “Hey,” Emma said, turning towards me.

  “Hey,” I said.

  We kissed briefly before Emma even got her eyes open. Such was the sharpness of her instincts. It was comforting in a way.

  Calling down to room service for breakfast, we started getting into our evening wear, which seemed kind of odd, considering the event was in the afternoon.

  I had bought Emma a dress of her choosing which brought out the best of her most attractive attributes. I put on my expensive, tailored tux.

  “You look so handsome,” Emma said, helping me with my tie.

  “And you love it,” I smirked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  We kissed, Emma having to get up on her tiptoes in order to reach, even while wearing high heels.

  Emma was absolutely buzzing on the way to the elevator and on the trip down, going over the idea for her growing catering company, pausing only to take my hand and kiss me after the doors closed.

  “I'm lucky I found you,” I told her.

  “And don't forget it,” she teased.

  With Emma's help and encouragement, I made it all the way to the doors of the reception hall only stopping once for a deep fortifying breath.

  “You'll do great,” she assured me.

  “Thanks to you.”

  When we entered the ballroom, I tried to not be knocked down by the ambiance. Everyone else was in black tie. The smell of money wafting off of them as they primly sipped champagne from crystal flutes. I wonder how many people they could have housed with the catering budget alone.

  “I wonder who their caterer is,” Emma said, taking a slightly different interpretation of the situation.

  “I'll be sure to ask,” I said.

  “Noah!”

  “Hi, mom,” I said, not needing to turn around.

  “And you must be Emma,” Mom said, reaching out to take my date’s hand.

  “Mrs. Wells,” Emma said, shaking mom's hand with a slight bow.

  “Good gracious she's a pretty thing,” Mom said to me.

  “I noticed, we are getting married after all,” I said.

  “Don't get smart,” Mom admonished.

  “I can't help it, it's genetic,” I teased.

  “Oh you,” Mom said blushing furiously, picking up on the cunningly disguised compliment.

  “Did Sarah make it?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I couldn't convince your father.”

  “He's retired,” I pointed out.

  “Try telling him that,” Mom said, giving one of her world-famous eye-rolls.

  “Never.”

  “Holy crap!”

  We all turned to see Sarah, my little sister, walking up to us, beautiful as ever in a gorgeous dress she no doubt designed herself and a glass of what looked to be club soda in her hand.

  “Language!” Mom admonished her.

  “English,” Sarah said with a smirk.

  We shared a subtle high five, Mom didn't notice but I was pretty sure Emma did, even though she didn't say anything.

  “What in Hades are you wearing?” Sarah asked, looking me up and down, admiring my designer tux. She was very into fashion.

  “Like it?” I asked.

  “Hell, yes.”

  Mom looked about ready to drop dead of a heart attack.

  “This is Emma, she's my fiancée,” I said, trying to avoid disaster.

  Sarah switched her focus over to Emma, looking her up and down a couple times and then wolf-whistled her approval.

  “Thanks,” Emma said blushing shyly.

  “What did my brother have to do to get a hottie like you?”

  “Just be himself,” Emma said kissing me on the cheek.

  “Ain't that sweet,” Sarah smirked.

  “Contraction!” Mom shouted making most of the people around us jump and us.

  “Don't be silly, you're too old to get pregnant,” Sarah joked.

  I could tell that Mom wanted to smack her upside the head, but we were in public, so she restrained herself.

  “Anyway,” Mom said, still giving Sarah the Evil Eye, “Emma is clearly much better for you than Gina ever was.”

  “Thanks,” I said, meaning it.

  Mom took Emma by both hands and kissed her on each cheek as a way of welcoming her to the family. Seeing them together made my heart swell, and I knew then that I could never let Emma go. I had failed at relationships in the past, but this time, I had to make this work —whatever it took.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Noah

  The cogs planted deep within my watch did their magic, taking time out of the conceptual realm and turning it into something physical. Predictable. Practical.

  I wished that Emma could have been there with me, but the organizers had more or less insisted that I stay in the wings of the stage to increase the drama of the reveal, as though everyone there didn't already know who the award was going to. I guess they figured that the sight of me getting up from one of the tables and making my way up to the stage would bring down the gravitas of the occasion. Optics being of primary importance for them.

  I wasn't the only one getting an award that night. It would be kind of ridiculous to put on such an event just for a single person. Even for them. Many on the board could fairly be said to be possessed of more money than sense, but there were limits to even their extravagance. As a result, all the award recipients were backstage. Some making a better show of not being nervous than others. Though it was clear from other indications, ones they didn't even know that they were giving, that they were all nervous to varying degrees.

  I offered a lozenge to the man next to me who seemed like he could pass out in terror at any moment.

  “Thanks,” he said, popping the candy in his mouth.

  “No problem,” I said.

  “Nice tux,” said the elegant woman across from me.

  She was thirty at the most, the quality and choice of her clothes and jewels indicating that she was very much of the new rich, uncomfortable with her position in life to the point of trying too hard to fit into it. Her comment was meant as a slight, but I pitied her too much to really take offense. I had been in her position once. She just had yet to get over it.

  To pass the time I started going over my speech. I had read it over so many times since writing it I had it committed to memory, but I went through it again. I added a line here, took sections out there, and completely changed the quote at the beginning. I had been trying not to be funny but was beginning to think that it might be imperative.

  My speech done and ready, I stole a peek out at the crowd. After a brief bit of scanning, I found my table. Mom was grinning for the cameras as was her way. Her still sharp eyes scanning the crowds of people she had seen thousands of times before with practiced efficiency.

  I really wasn't sure how Sarah would get on with Emma. My sister could be a bit aggressive sometimes and suffered from what our grandpa had called a “deplorable excessive personality.” Not the nicest thing to say about one's own granddaughter. Though I still couldn't fully disagree, except in terms of taking out the word 'deplorable' and he hadn't actually been wrong. Not that it had any effect on her. From what I could tell, darling Sarah ran out of fucks to give sometime around her twelfth birthday.

  To be fair, Emma could be a bit bold herself. While this could well lead to something resembling a combination of nitro with glycerin, instead they seemed to be getting along famously.

  I couldn't help but smile. Both out of happiness at seeing them get along so well, Sarah more than once telling me that it would be cool to have s sister, but also relief. I wouldn't have not married Emma if Sarah didn't like her, but it would have been hard, my sister being really important to me also. I was relieved that it wouldn't have to come to that.

  Ducking back into the wings, I saw a distinguished gent in full black-tie take a
clandestine swig from an impressively well-hidden flask, and I wished I had done the same thing.

  “Our first award of the evening is arguably the most important,” said the board president speaking into the microphone, “the award for humanitarian of the year. Truly a great honor given to the person who has done more for the betterment of the poor and marginalized than anyone else over the last year. This year’s winner is a man that needs little introduction. Noah Wells, International Human Rights attorney at the Howell and Howell law firm. Not only has Noah gone the world over in a dogged attempt to correct grave injustice, but he has also donated more money to more vital charities than all of our members, including the board, put together. I hope you will join me in welcoming to the stage Mr. Noah Wells.”

  It was the applause that did it. At least that was the story I decided to go with. Whatever the cause might have been, somewhere between where I was standing backstage and the microphone, also plated in gold, I completely forgot what I was going to say. My entire speech was deleted from my mind.

  I took the statuette, which I half expected to be shaped like a dollar sign, and turned to the assembled crowd.

  “I've always heard that it's best to open with a joke,” I said, looking at the statuette, “but I can't seem to think of anything funny to say right now.”

  “That's a first!” Sarah called from the table, sending a wave of nervous laughter around the room, like they wanted to laugh but weren't sure if they were allowed to.

  “My sister, everyone. She's single by the way.”

  Sarah flipped me the bird. My mom noticed and started batting at Sarah's hand like it had burst into flames, and she was trying to put it out.

  “Life is precious,” I said, finally able to look out at the crowd, “ and far too important to worry about the self-righteous who think they have to tell us what to do or what to say just because they have money or have gotten themselves into a position of assumed power.”

  “Here, here!” Sarah shouted.

  “That is why I do what I do. To give people the means to fight back against the authoritarians and live their own, best life as they see fit.”

  “Fuckin' A!” Sarah and Emma agreed, causing a flurry of shocked gasps and not only from Mom.

  “I didn't use to look forward to the future. Didn't really see one honesty,” I said, “other times I didn't think I would have one. Like when I was in the Serbian prison talking to political prisoners with armed militia all around me. If I told you the number of times I've been shot, you would likely drop your monocles. But now I know that I do have a future. Not only as a lawyer and philanthropist fighting the good fight in the name of human freedom and dignity but as a husband to my beautiful fiancée, Emma. If you'll still have me, I want you to be my wife.”

  Emma looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

  I grinned. “I mean it, for real, and as soon as possible.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Emma

  It's funny how things work out sometimes. Not only did I not really know that Noah had a sister, but I also had no idea that we would get along so well. The seating had put us at the same table through our shared connection to Noah, but as far as I could tell, that was where the similarities began and ended.

  To be fair, it was partly based on my prejudices. Not in terms of them being rich but more my assumption that they were snobby and raised in a blithe little bubble ignorant of the rest of the world. If that was the case, which I really didn't think it was, the plan had failed miserably, and Sarah was even more of a hellraiser than Noah had been showing himself to be.

  I guess it made sense. He did have a bit of an image to keep up, being a bit time lawyer and all. Sarah, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a single fuck left to give. A theory confirmed when she had tried to light a cigarette within minutes of sitting down. I say tried because Mrs. Wells batted the cigarette out of her mouth before Sarah could get the lighter ignited, sending the mercifully unlit cigarette flying across the room.

  “Jesus, mom!” Sarah protested.

  “Language,” Mrs. Wells shouted back.

  The two women started at each other like pro boxers in a promo video until, eventually, shockingly, Mrs. Wells looked away.

  I felt pretty bad and oddly proud at the same time. Bad for Mrs. Wells, who clearly didn't have the authority she thought she did, and proud of Sarah for not taking any shit, wishing I had her level of guts. I had been raised to respect and defer to my elders, even when they were wrong.

  “Can you teach me to do that?” I whispered.

  “Sure,” she said taking another drink of her tonic.

  “Designated driver?” I asked.

  “Bang on,” she said, slamming the glass upside down on the table, “sorry, old habits.”

  “That's okay,” I said.

  “You drink?” she asked pointedly.

  “Um, not really. I was pretty strongly discouraged as a kid. I'll sometimes drink when I'm in the mood.”

  “The mood to be naughty?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, blushing slightly.

  “I knew it,” Sarah said smiling a crooked smile.

  “Knew what?” I asked.

  “That there was bad girl spirit in their behind that sweet facade.”

  I'd never really thought of it as a facade before but in my heart, I knew that Sarah was absolutely right.

  “H-how did you know?” I asked.

  “Takes one to know one,” she said with a sly wink.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said blushing again.

  “And that is your greatest advantage,” Sarah said.

  “What is?”

  “You're unassuming cuteness. So adorable and innocent, well trained I'm sure. Religious parents?”

  “Yeah and convent school.”

  “No one will ever see you coming.”

  I was about to say something I hoped would be cool but would probably just end up being embarrassing when I was rescued by the appearance of the emcee on stage.

  The introduction they gave Noah was extremely flattering and a bit more thorough than I expected, especially considering that there was apparently no introduction needed. Still, though, it was nice to know that there were other people who saw Noah the same way I did. If anything, the needlessly in-depth introduction served as a reminder of what attracted me to Noah in the first place.

  As he came out onto the stage, I could feel my love for him grow — not metaphorically either. There was actually a tangible swelling feeling in my chest like I might actually burst with all the love and pride I felt for him. I really didn't care that this was all supposed to be fake — to make him look good for his peers and ward off his mother and crazy ex. That was how it started, but that wasn't how it had to end. We could write a new story. One with a happy ending.

  When Sara first shouted out during Noah's speech, I had actually thought that she was heckling him. Until he responded with some good-natured teasing of his own. Then I realized that it was just how they were with each other. I even got comfortable enough to join in with the third instance of shouted agreement, getting my first ever high five out of the deal. My hand stung, Sarah was very strong, but it was all good.

  There were some pretty shocking revelations during his speech, which had become a freestyle confessional somewhere along the way, as well as some confirmations of things I had already suspected. Especially considering the nature of his work as a lawyer. Part of me wasn't sure how I felt about him intentionally going into some of the worst places in the world, even if it was to make it be a better place. If we were to be together, I would constantly be worried about him getting hurt. Though given the evidence that didn't seem like a very likely scenario. He had already survived at least three bullets and was clearly made up of sterner stuff. I could feel all my insecurities and fears melting away.

  The true shock, however, came at the end. I had imagined Noah asking me to marry him many times over the time we had been together. To be his real
fiancée as opposed to his fake one. None of it prepared me for when it actually happened. Possibly even more surprising at least to myself, was how I reacted.

  “Yes!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, causing many a head to turn my way.

  The heads continued to follow me as I made my way up to the stage. The shock soon giving away to thunderous applause. Noah pulled me up onto the stage and into his arms as we kissed passionately.

  I wanted to pinch myself to make sure it was real. Not only did I have a start-up business in the career I always wanted but a hot, and deeply principled, lawyer as a husband as well.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emma

  I had thought April the first had been a joke. Though with Noah's dry brand of humor, it could be difficult to tell. He had been joking about having the ceremony in a cathedral. Which was probably for the best. Clever boy that he was, my sweet darling Noah figured out a way for the least drama by the bringing together of our two tribes, a simple but beautiful ceremony in the woods.

  “How do I look?” I asked, turning to face Sarah, who had just finished fastening the back of my wedding dress.

  “Scrumptious,” she replied, going to retrieve my floral wreath headpiece, “then again, you would probably look good in a potato sack.”

  “Let's hope that never comes up,” I giggled.

  Technically, the wreath was a pagan symbol, but I liked it and really didn't think anyone else would notice much less care. Noah and I had considered putting up a Maypole as a joke but in the end, decided against it.

  Outside the confines of the trailer Noah had rented for me to get changed in, the accordion music reared up, an organ, while traditional, just not being feasible for the setting. We had a bit of a debate about what the song should be — the bridal chorus and the Pachelbel Canon in D not even being on the table. We had it down to the first of the Goldberg Variations and “I Vow To Thee My Country.” In the end, we went with the latter mostly due to length.