My Billionaire Fake Fiance

by Linda West

  I glanced at my phone. Dad would be in the middle of handing out presents right now. I was so happy he could be there. I sent off a quick text to him: Change of plans – going to Vermont for four days to escort Devlin home to see his father. Everything great here. Will be home for Christmas with a big surprise. Don’t worry and don’t forget to send pictures ho ho ho.

  I hoped I wouldn’t mess this up somehow. If all went well, I would have the best Christmas surprise for my father ever—even if it looked like I wouldn’t be home to share it with him.

  At a stop sign, I pulled up some etiquette tutorials on YouTube and let it play as I drove–it began with forks and glass placement at a proper table and moved to correct posture and appropriate conversation.

  I made a face when I heard the old cliché don’t talk about politics or religion. This was why nothing ever changed for the better, because good people in decent society weren’t supposed to talk about anything ugly. How did we change anything if we don’t all talk about the issues?

  This one would be hard for me. Especially since getting a chance to lecture the Somersets about fair wages and protecting the environment was a dream come true. Better than a protest outside of their windows.

  I continued to drive up the sleek and slippery road filled with snow. I could barely see, and we were moving at a slug’s pace. Plus, I was hungry. I checked my map app. Looked like another hour up the hill to Kissing Bridge Mountain where the Somersets had their ski chalet.

  After what seemed a nightmarish eternity driving through blinding white, I spotted twinkling welcoming lights in the distance and pulled into a small central town.

  A café glittered all cozy and warm; it looked inviting with smoke puffing from the rooftop. Devlin was still deep asleep in the back. I considered leaving him, but then maybe he’d freeze, and I’d never get the two hundred thousand dollars.

  I reached over and shook him gently. “Devlin,” I said lightly. He looked so vulnerable and handsome asleep. But even my best friend’s evil children looked like angels when they slept.

  He definitely was one hot angel. I pulled my eyes away.

  The warm glow from the window and the faint aroma of something delicious floated out of the café. The sign above read Landers’ Bakery, Blue Ribbon Winners of Vermont.

  I grabbed a sweater from my backpack and draped it over Devlin. I had to go in. It was too tempting, and I was tired of driving. My stomach rumbled. Was it only eight hours ago that Dad and I had shared goulash in the kitchen and wished for a miracle? It seemed like a lifetime away.

  Devlin was snoring like a little kitten, and I smirked and shut the limo door softly. I would just head in for a minute and grab something to go.

  Chapter 15

  The Lander’s Bakery was an oasis in my nightmare. It was cabin style and quaint with a bubbling clientele and windows filled with baked goods.

  I hustled to get in line at the bakery counter. I had my eye on the cinnamon bun as big as my foot. I could taste it already.

  “Hey!” came the irritating call behind me.

  I turned to see Devlin striding through the door. Some customers called out to him, and he softened and waved back. He seemed to know many of the people in there. He was by my side in a moment.

  “What, did you think you were going to let me freeze in the Rolls and then pawn the ring for your money?” he hissed in my ear.

  My mouth fell open, and he reached over and snapped it shut–which of course made me even more furious.

  The tension was broken by a rambunctious senior with a towering red beehive that came barreling over and wrapped her arms around both of us.

  “Devlin, dear, it’s been so long!” She smiled, and her light blue eyes sparkled when she looked at me.

  “And you must be….”

  Devlin sucked in his breath and grabbed my hand. “My fiancé, actually.”

  The senior’s eyes crinkled up so they were barely visible. “Well, well, what wonderful news! So, we should be expecting a wedding up at the house soon?”

  I gulped, and Devlin grinned his easy fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, one step at a time, Carol. This is Allie. Allie, this is the infamous Carol Landers. She and her sister, Ethel, have put all the other bakers out of business.”

  “Not so! Now, don’t be spreading falsehoods, Devlin.” A petite silver-haired lady came forth, taking off her apron.

  She stuck out her hand to me. “Ethel Landers. And we’ve only out-won everyone, not put them out of business.”

  “Correct!” her feisty bee-hived sister said. And then they both started laughing.

  Devlin beamed. I could see he had genuine affection for this quirky duo.

  “I heard you opened up a full restaurant–we could use dinner; it’s been a long drive.”

  Ethel brightened. “Yes, our new Enchanted Café!” She hooked her arm through mine. “Just this way, through the red connecting doors.”

  I looked back wistfully at the cinnamon roll I had had my heart set on joined by a glass of chocolate milk. Oh well.

  Ethel whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you leave with some baked goods.” I smiled, and she winked at me.

  Soon we were seated at an elegant white table with beautiful silver, and china plates. The full moon had slid out of the cloud cover, and now it lit up the mountains of Kissing Bridge through the picture window.

  Tiny Christmas lights twinkled, hanging from the wood beams and creating a fairy wonderland. I had never been up to a ski town, and I was charmed. Everyone was so friendly, and the food smelled amazing. My stomach made a low growl, and I looked up to see Devlin glaring at me.

  I leaned in. “I wasn’t trying to let you freeze. I was just going to grab a pastry.”

  His scalding look said he didn’t believe me.

  I grabbed a roll and focused on applying some butter.

  “Let’s get on to other things. We have some elegant events in the next couple of days, and we need to talk about etiquette.”

  I wasn’t about to tell him I’d been binge-watching etiquette YouTube for that very reason. “Your alternative was an exotic dancer,” I reminded him.

  Devlin looked over the wine menu.

  “Her mother was a Baroness. She went to the best finishing school.”

  I looked down at the forks. I had this one covered, as there was only one of everything. I flicked my napkin open and wove it about like a flag and dramatically draped it on my lap and went back to buttering my roll.

  “Like that.” Devlin flicked his hand without lifting his gaze from the wine menu.

  I looked at my roll. Was eating carbs lousy etiquette? Possibly. We lived in a new gluten-free world, and I hadn’t been apprised of it.

  He looked over at my bread plate. “You don’t dip your knife into the universal butter and reuse it. You scoop some butter onto your plate, and then you transfer it to the bread from your plate.”

  This was so exasperating! How the heck could I learn every nuance of fine society in such a short time, no matter how much I crammed? It was all so frivolous and stupid and rich people problems. I let out an irritated huff.

  “And don’t huff and grumble like you’re on a chain gang.”

  “Seriously, do you know how many trees they are cutting down in the rainforest? Abusing the natural resources and driving the indigenous tribes and animals out? Real-world problems, Devlin! Not your fancy-dancy pants SHALLOW life issues! Use this fork, don’t’ drink chocolate milk, don’t spit. Where does it end?”

  “Okay, that’s what I’m talking about,” he drawled as he leaned back in his chair.

  “What?” I said as I put the butter on my plate and stuck my tongue out at him.

  “You—you ranting and raving about saving the world. Nobody cares. It's boring.”

  My mouth hung open.

  “And that is completely unattractive!”

  He snapped my chin shut, and my teeth clicked.

  RUDE! I fixed
him with my full Betty Boop I-mean-business glare.

  “It’s called giving a darn. I wish more people with your money did. It would be world-changing.”

  He laughed.

  “And what would you do with the money–give it all away and buy the rainforest?”

  “Yes!” I declared. “I’d buy it to protect it, yes. Someone has to. It’s a resource, and they sell it for cattle or palm oil; why not for a protected world park?”

  He motioned the server over. “As I was saying. Let's stay away from volatile subjects, or anything that might lead my father or whomever to ask questions about us. Like the date of our wedding, etc.”

  “So, what can I talk about?”

  He looked out the window and gestured.

  “The weather.”

  “The weather?” My mouth curled up. “You want me to prattle on about the weather? What’s to say? It’s snowing. Oh, looks like snow. Hey, snow again what do you know?”

  Devlin faced me. “How about you just don’t talk at all. Fine ladies often just sit and look good. Can’t go wrong.”

  “Really? Seriously?” I arched a brow and shook my head.

  Devlin was all smiles as he ordered the wine. It fell as soon as she left, and he leaned over and hissed at me again.

  “Look, I’m paying you. Can you just act like a good employee? I’m not asking you to do anything except keep your mouth shut. Have wine, of course. But zip it!” He made the zipper motion across his mouth and dead-eyed me.

  I shook my head. He’d obviously never seen me after two glasses of wine, or he’d know keeping my mouth shut after that was no option.

  Everything inside me felt worthless. We were a foot away, but worlds apart. Devlin was right. I just needed to do my job and get out with the money. But why did part of me want to teach Mr. Fancy Pants a lesson?

  My mouth must have been hanging agape again after the last insult, and Devlin instinctively reached over and tapped me under the chin to close it. Again.

  I didn’t like this pattern that was forming. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t finger my face,” I snapped.

  Devlin almost spit out his wine.

  Suddenly, the sun emerged, and he smiled from ear to ear. “My nanny used to do that to me, and I hated it too. Sorry, old habits die hard and all that…”

  I looked up at him from under my fake lashes. Was that an apology? He must be getting drunk. He sure looked good drunk, I had to admit. Somehow, the inebriation just brought out a more easy-going charm that had remained hidden before.

  Now, he was adorable with his childlike grin, even while he hurled insults at me. Still, he was Devlin, and I hated him. I wasn’t about to get my plans waylaid by some hot guy.

  Ethel Landers came over and uncorked a new bottle. Devlin winked at her and pulled over a glass, filling it with some wine.

  He pushed it toward me. “Drink.”

  I wasn’t too sure about this. We needed to be on our wits. I wasn’t about to come this close to getting my two hundred grand and have it fail.

  “To us.”

  I smiled.

  “Darling.”

  He laughed again. “You might be common, but you’re funny.”

  Ugh. He had to go and ruin it.

  Chapter 16

  Devlin was twirling his wine around in the glass and looking like little Lord Fauntleroy in his perfectly tailored Gucci suit. He made it seem so effortless.

  I nibbled daintily on the blueberry crumble we had for dessert. Typically, I would have ordered a chocolate milk and extra whipped cream, but I refrained.

  Devlin looked me up and down.

  “We’ll leave the limo at the car rental down the street and pick up something more suitable. I can’t have my fiancé driving me.”

  I nodded and rolled up my uniform sleeve that had fallen into the whipped cream.

  Devlin looked at me with a glint of disgust.

  “What?” I said, swiping a piece of crumble from the corner of my mouth.

  “Slow down. You look like you haven’t eaten in a month.”

  “Well, this is the best blueberry crumble I’ve ever had.”

  He looked at me with the side of his mouth pulled down. “Better change here as well before we drive up. I don’t expect my father to still be awake this late, but just in case.”

  I nodded as I finished up the last of my dessert.

  The sister with the flaming beehive appeared with a coffee pot in hand.

  “Did you like it?” she asked me.

  “Oh, yes! So unique!” I smiled.

  “It's our special recipe.”

  “Yum! It’s extraordinary, indeed. I couldn’t place the one spice you had in there–”

  The elderly lady laughed a sweet, deep belly sound. “It’s not often I get to serve up the Marry Me Blueberry Crumble. But we slipped it in on our manager, Kat, so we had some extra leftover.” She leaned over and brought her finger to her mouth. “Mums the word.” She winked at me like I was Bonnie to her Clyde.

  Devlin took one delicate bite and nodded his head. “Truly superb–as usual. What kind of crumble did you say this was?”

  She refilled our coffee and smiled.

  “Marry Me Blueberry Crumble.”

  I gulped. “I never heard of that.”

  She clapped me on the back. “That’s because we only serve it to people that wanted to get married. Can’t be messing with those single people! Ha-ha.”

  “Marriage? I almost spit up my coffee when I caught Devlin shaking his head at me.

  “What?”

  “You’re engaged, right?”

  I nodded and recovered.

  “Yes–I just adore him.”

  Devlin gave a tight smile.

  “Well, then–no harm is done.” She beamed.

  I turned to Devlin, who looked amused at my discomfort.

  “Better be careful–I’ve seen some mighty strange magic come out of this place.” He was enjoying my unease.

  I blushed. Obviously, they were joking with me—making the new girl the butt of their joke.

  Chapter 17

  Devlin rented a truck, and we left the Rolls at the rental place. He opened the passenger door for me, and I knew things were about to get real.

  He drove with expertise up the mountain roads. I hadn't expected him to know how to drive, let alone handle himself on icy terrain.

  "Okay, so our ‘falling in love at first sight’ story– how's that going to go?" Devlin asked.

  I thought about it. "People fall in love quickly sometimes. It makes sense. We need a good story."

  Devlin looked doubtful, but waved for me to continue. "Such as…?"

  I wracked my brains for memories of all the syrupy Hallmark films I binged-watched. They all had adorable first meetings—none I could remember on the spot.

  "We have so much to lie about. Maybe we can keep as much truth as possible. What if I actually did pick you up for a ride, and you took one look at me and knew I was the one."

  Devlin smirked at me. "There is no way I'm letting my father know who you really are."

  I guessed he was right. Better keep it as simple as possible.

  "Let's just say we met at the horse races?" he offered.

  I frowned. "How about a protest rally?"

  He snorted.

  "Let's settle on a bar. You were hovering at the VIP section begging to get in, and I saw you and decided–you were the one."

  He glanced at me; I shook my head.

  "Fine. Just stick to saying as little as possible and let me answer the questions if in doubt."

  "What about all this snow we're having?” I said like a Stepford wife.

  He looked at me with a dangerous glint in his eye.

  "Just don't talk, please. Easiest money you'll ever make."

  I nodded. Not that I had a choice.

  Still. I was going to have to step up my game to make his father believe the chauffeur's daughter had whisked his commitment-phobic son off the market
.

  Chapter 18

  The Chalet, or should I say mansion, in the mountains was epic. Luxurious on a whole other level. All those shows where you see the super-rich houses…yeah, those aren't the REALLY rich ones. The super-rich people hide their stuff. The real rich are sequestered behind huge bushes or long driveways or up high in the mountains like this.

  I felt my mouth gaping and closed it before Devlin reprimanded me.

  An older man in a fancy, formal uniform answered the door and beamed.

  "Mr. Devlin, sir! What a surprise, sir, you made it."

  Devlin grabbed both his hands. "Jeeves, how great to see you."

  "You too sir, truly. Your father has retired, but he will be thrilled you came home."

  I hesitated a few feet behind Devlin. He held out his hand to me, and I stepped forward carefully on my ridiculously high heels.

  "Jeeves, this is Allie. My fiancé."

  Jeeves's eyebrows rose, and he bent from the waist in a deep bow. "My honor to meet you, Miss Allie." He kissed my hand.

  "Me, too," I mumbled, and threw in a weird curtsy.

  "Jeeves is my father's butler and one of my favorite people." The elder Jeeves blushed.

  He cleared his throat.

  "I'll have James get your luggage, sir, and if you give me a moment, I'll have Alice freshen up your room."

  Devlin ushered me into the mansion, and I tried not to gawk. It looked like something out of Downton Abbey.

  "Miss Allie will be needing her own room–” Devlin said. "She snores horribly."

  I blushed.

  "Let's put her in the South Wing–The Sapphire Room."

  Jeeves glanced about uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, sir, but all the rooms are taken."

  Devlin spun around. "What are you talking about? This place has more than a dozen rooms."

  Jeeves's mouth went tight, and he rang a bell. A young red-haired woman appeared in full French maid garb. Black uniform with a frilly white apron.

  "Please have Mr. Devlin's room straightened up, and remove the dogs…"