My Billionaire Fake Fiance

by Linda West

  Pierre was in awe of the sisters. He fluttered around them, flapping his hands and murmuring French I couldn't understand. "Ooh la la, Ladies Landers. I can cook, but I cannot bake; you are superb!" He motioned to Carol and Ethel, who smiled over the compliments. "Blue ribbon winners for the last 70 years. They’re famous in Kissing Bridge!"

  The sisters blushed, and I thought how adorable they looked in their matching gray dresses and pristine white aprons. They looked like they had leaped out of a Julia Child book ready to be of service. They both hugged me affectionately, and I blushed at their kindness.

  Sissy was absent, thankfully, but all five of her children, including the baby with his nanny, were in attendance. The kids were thrilled to be in a cookie-making class and enthusiastically tied on little aprons that made them look sweet and much less entitled.

  Little Kent junior beamed up at me.

  "Super fun, right?!"

  I smiled back. "Yeah, super fun."

  He stuck both his hands in his flour mixture and tossed a big gust in the air. It came down like a shower and dusted both of us nearly pure white.

  I wiped the flour out of my eyes and Kent beamed. "And nobody cares if we–"

  I reached out my hand and touched his shoulder.

  "Yes, people care if you have manners, Kent." He raised a young, aristocratic brow.

  I pointed to the various staff, and the Landers bent over, helping the other children.

  "These people want you to have fun, but if you make an extra mess, it won't be so fun for them."

  I gestured toward the maid, Alice. " They will have to spend extra time cleaning up your mess."

  He looked at me and nodded.

  "But after this, we can have a re-game on that snowball fight, and you can try and pepper me as hard as you want. Deal?"

  He laughed. "Deal."

  Devlin came into the kitchen dressed in an all-black designer suit and looking like a billion dollars. His eyes met mine.

  He stared at the flour all over my face and shook his head.

  Jeeves came forward. "Can I get you anything, sir, or would you care to join your father and sister in the library?”

  "My sister?"

  The butler raised one eyebrow and nodded. "Yes, sir."

  Devlin looked at me, and then strode away toward the library. He disappeared down the hall and, when the door opened, I could hear arguing coming from the inside.

  I dusted myself off and asked the Landers sisters for official permission to bake.

  Carol Landers came over to inspect my cookies. I had chosen the Christmas tree cutout, and now the tree cookies were lined up on the baking sheet like a mini forest.

  She clapped me on the back and some flour puffed out of my hair. Kent clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. I stuck my tongue out at him.

  "Perfect, Allie. Just the right amount of golden butter color, and all your cutouts are very proportioned." She nodded approval.

  I smiled.

  "Permission to bake?" I said like a soldier.

  "Approved." She smiled back. "Upper oven, middle rack for 11 minutes."

  I saluted and moved off with my glorious cookies to the oven.

  I set a timer for 11 minutes and decided to go outside in the yard to see if I could catch reception and call my dad. I had filled him in on the time frame, but that was about it.

  I slipped out of the kitchen and went to find my parka. Jeeves had put it in one of the closets–but which of the darn ten closets was that?

  I tiptoed past the library, and the door was ajar.

  Devlin was upset.

  "I don't think you understand. China Box is undercutting us on one side, and Bamazon has switched to plastic, so that account has been cut in half."

  I gasped. The only thing worse than boxes made from trees was plastic. That was totally horrible for the planet!

  I had spent days on the Jersey coast on Earth Day weekend, picking up plastic refuse. It never goes away. This was terrible news. I glanced around to see if any of the servants were hovering, but it was only me. I leaned in closer.

  Sissy was equally incensed by the conversation. "That's exactly why we should sell NOW. Before our company is worthless. Besides, Dad isn't capable of dealing with all this stress."

  Devlin whistled through his teeth. "Dad hasn't been dealing with it–I have! As I've been dealing with all the hundreds of thousands of people we employ around the country, Sissy. Great Grandfather would never sell out his employees who made him successful."

  I cocked my head. I had never heard Devlin say anything remotely caring about anyone other than himself. Now here he was, going to bat against Satan on behalf of the little man?

  Sissy slammed something, and I heard broken glass, then Jeeves rushing to clean it up. I pulled back.

  Mr. Somerset intervened in a slow, unsteady whisper. "The employees do matter. I agree with Devlin."

  Devlin hissed out a relieved sound. "Thank you, Father, for believing in me."

  "But…" said the older Somerset. "The China Box takeover and Bamazon changes are a huge impact. We can't be caught with our britches down…"

  Devlin sputtered. "I have a plan–I just need to get some numbers to explain the whole vision…."

  "Good. We'll talk tomorrow, then you show me why I shouldn't agree with your sister."

  Devlin suddenly burst through the door, brows knit together, and strode toward the kitchen.

  I slunk back and breathed a sigh when I spotted my parka. Thank goodness it was in only the third darn closet I checked. No wonder they needed Jeeves to help them find anything.

  I put on the parka and moved toward the side back door when I heard Sissy speaking. I looked around and hovered closer to the door, acting as if I were admiring the Picasso in the hall.

  I opened my mouth in disgust as she rattled off lie after lie about Devlin being irresponsible and flighty. It was so untrue. I barely knew him, but there was no denying how much he put into the business.

  "Here, Dad, just sign this paper, and it will be done. The company is sold. No more headaches. You deserve it, Daddy," she said in a corn fructose sugar way.

  "You want me to sign this? Maybe I should read it first, don't you think, or have my lawyer…"

  "I had a lawyer in California draft it up. Trust me. I know China Box will offer us a price you can't say no to."

  China Box? Both my eyebrows went up at once. I knew all about the vast foreign company that had already swallowed up thousands of jobs around the country.

  Even in Jersey, plants had closed, and jobs had been lost and outsourced because of China Box's growth. Somerset Industries had had to cut over a thousand jobs in a downsizing attempt to compete, and that was just in our state.

  I suddenly felt an odd kinship with Devlin, despite my disgust for him. I held my breath and prayed that Mr. Somerset wasn't going to sign whatever Sissy was pushing at him.

  ****

  I saw Devlin stride through the back kitchen door, and I ran after him.

  Outside it was still a cold, clear day, and the wind whipped my hair like little stingers, but I kept running and within a moment I was by his side and breathless. He looked at me oddly and back to where I had come from, confused by my sudden appearance.

  I huffed and puffed. "What are you doing out here?" he asked as he continued toward the stables.

  I followed him.

  "Look, Devlin. We have to really double down on this. There's so much at stake."

  "Tell me something I don't know," he said without breaking stride.

  I struggled to keep up with him. "Look, we both are on the same team."

  He cocked his head." Since when?"

  "Since I happened to overhear some of your conversation in the library,” I said sheepishly.

  He shook his head and trudged forward.

  "I think you can come up with a solution. Economize and keep your account with Bamazon."

  "Glad you are so optimistic. From what I see,
I'm about to put hundreds of thousands of employees out of work if I don't figure this out."

  I grabbed his hand to stop him because I couldn't keep up.

  "Listen. I want to help you. I care about people's jobs as much as I care about the environment. Plastic isn't the solution either. I already started a petition against Bamazon to stop that. It's cheaper, but it's as bad as killing trees. It kills the ocean.”

  Devlin's mouth went firm and straight, and he dead-eyed me.

  "You really did listen?"

  I shrugged.

  "So, what's your solution then?"

  I swallowed. Solution? That was the problem. I always saw the problem, but rarely found the answer. That was the sad part. You want to help, but in the end, you can only gripe about it, and then nothing happens.

  "I'm not sure, but there are natural alternatives you might look into that are cheaper. I mean, in the end, all the companies are going to have to revolutionize sooner or later– why not Somerset Industries be the first?"

  Devlin glanced at me with what resembled respect. I'm sure I was wrong.

  But he did say, "I'm not against it. I don't need to wait until the fourth quarter and see my competition has changed and I'm out of two hundred fifty million dollars’ profit. Being on the forefront is key in business at our level."

  "Exactly. I can't recommend anything now, but let me think about it."

  "Think quickly." He opened the barn door.

  We entered the large wooden barn that housed the stables. I looked down the long lanes with elegant horses peeking out of their stalls to see who had come to visit.

  "Oh, what pretty stables." I looked around at the rustic, western-decorated walls. It too had the standard royal chandelier and a roaring fire. The homey smell of hay and the whinnies of the horses made it feel comforting

  A stableman dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, who Devlin addressed as Roy, came out of the side office and tipped his cowboy hat.

  "Wondering when I'd see you, Mr. Devlin." He grinned broadly, and he was missing one tooth.

  Devlin smiled. “I actually slipped in late last night to give Majestic a run."

  The stableman nodded in my direction. "Howdy, miss"

  "Oh, Roy, may I introduce my fiancé?"

  Roy beamed. "Nice to meet you, truly, miss"

  "You too, Roy. I love horses." I smiled. "Can I pet them?"

  Devlin nodded. "Hold on." He reached in his pocket. "You want to make a friend, feed them some of these." He handed me some cut apple pieces, and I wandered over to a pretty white mare that looked friendly.

  I could hear Devlin chatting amiably with the stable guy and felt relieved for a moment. The stable felt safe, and I relaxed for the first time all night.

  "Hey, beauty," I said as I held out an apple for the pretty white horse. She was on the small side, and she nibbled the treat out of my hand gently. I felt emboldened, and I reached up and stroked her nose.

  "So…” Devlin joined me. "I see you've met our lovely Daisy." He rubbed her nose, and she nuzzled him back. "Hey, girl, how are you?"

  "She's a sweetheart."

  "She sure is."

  I petted her again and felt the soft fur of her nose.

  "How about if I give you your first riding lesson?" Devlin said.

  I looked around the barn and the horses and took a deep breath. I had never ridden a horse, let alone some spirited purebred owned by the Somersets. I looked up at Devlin for reassurance, and he squeezed my hand.

  "I'll teach you. You'll love it."

  I swallowed.

  "And you can't go wrong with our little Daisy."

  I nodded. Of course, Devlin Somerset's fiancée would be expected to know how to ride. He was like some Duke that had fallen out of an Outlander movie with his servants and stables.

  He grabbed my hand and led me toward the saddles and tack. "I have a saddle that my grandma wouldn't fall out of."

  I followed him. He had changed into jeans, and they hugged him in just the right way. I bit my lip. I was scared to death, but it had nothing to do with the horses.

  Chapter 27

  Devlin lifted me up and sat me on the gentle, white mare.

  “Daisy is a sweetheart. You have nothing to worry about. We start the toddlers on her."

  I nodded. Toddlers. Good. Perfect.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  I smiled. No, I was scared as all heck, but I wouldn't tell him that.

  He gave me a brief explanation of the reins and how to get Daisy to stop. Devlin looked at me and smiled.

  "You've never been on a horse before, have you?"

  "Merry go round."

  He laughed. "Figures. Just follow me, I'll help you."

  After a brief lesson, we ambled down a pine-forested path. I breathed in the fresh mountain air.

  "These trees are amazing," I said, appreciating the tall pines.

  Devlin looked at them. "I guess they are. We grow acres of trees for our boxes."

  "Yes, but they never get this old before you chop them down. These have to be at least a couple hundred years old. Do you know some of the trees in the Amazon rainforest are over three thousand years old?"

  "Really." He frowned. "No, I didn't.”

  "Irreplaceable. And acres being burned for burgers and palm oil."

  I was starting to build up my usual ire over the greed that was eating up what should be a world treasure.

  He glanced down at me riding next to him. His horse was a good six hands higher than mine, and it reared and snorted like it wanted to race. Devlin reined in its enthusiasm, expertly handling the spirited animal.

  "You're really good with horses."

  He looked at me. "They're good for me. I spent most of my time at the stables after…" He looked away into the distance.

  "How many times I ran these trails hoping to outrun my own thoughts." He looked at me, and my eyes met his in understanding.

  Between my mother passing away and my ex's betrayal, I had shriveled away from life. The world had been tainted, and I had just needed to get as far away as possible. I had become a hermit myself for years with nothing but my activism to inspire me.

  I focused on the path ahead and tried to keep my own horrid memories at bay. The rhythmic rocking of the horse's gait and the steady clip-clop on the snow was calming. A squirrel scampered across the path, chased by his buddy leaving tiny print marks on the snow.

  "I see why you could fall in love with horseback riding," I said as Devlin brought his horse next to mine once more.

  It was hard to look at him sitting on the horse and keep hating him. Between the hot guy pose on a stallion and his vulnerability leaking out I was going to have double down on why I hated Devlin Somerset.

  When I dared a glance, he was staring at me.

  "I found out that you can't outrun yourself no matter how fast you gallop."

  "How exactly fast do you need to go for that to happen?" I joked.

  He laughed and grabbed my reins to steady our horses next to each other.

  "So, I'm not the only one with problems."

  I snorted unattractively, and then covered my nose.

  "Ahh, no. My life is pretty much on code red right now. I don't know what I would have done if our deal hadn't come along. We, well, we need it for our house. Mom's medical bills mounted up."

  Devlin looked at me for the first time like he really saw me as a person." Ahhh. So, you just didn't fancy to buy some sports car with the money?"

  I blushed. Like I'd ever buy a car that wasn't electric, please. "No. No Ferrari."

  He nodded. "I've been kind of sheltered. I've seen the world, but I haven't seen much of your part."

  I struggled to keep hating him. He was making it really hard with his authentic personality sneaking out.

  "You're lucky. You'll never have to worry about someone dying and you not being able to have enough money to do anything about it." I chewed my lip. I didn't need to share my personal issues with my fake bill
ionaire fiancé. He would never understand, anyway.

  I glanced over at him looking like a Greek God on his horse and saw his pensive look. I suddenly remembered hearing from my father that Devlin's mother had died when he was young. Here I was complaining about life and fate.

  I gurgled out an awkward apology. "I'm sorry. I heard your mother died of a stroke. That must have been horrible."

  He shook his head. "Yes, and very sudden.”

  I swallowed hard; my heart ached for him.

  "I'd gotten in trouble, and we had a fight. So, I decided to run away," he confessed. "I made it all the way to Jeeves’ back house where I hid out, trying to teach her a lesson. My mother thought I was lacking in my pursuit of becoming a perfect gentleman, and she was right, of course." He laughed a sad, choked sound. "She died that night."

  My face melted in sympathy.

  He glanced at me, and his eyes were a tornado of thoughts. “I blamed myself."

  "But a stroke can't be caused by an argument Devlin.”

  He shook his head. "I know. The doctor sat us all down and told us how strokes work. Still, I blamed myself. I guess we all have regrets."

  He looked like that lost five-year-old boy again.

  I reached out and touched his arm. It felt raging hot, and his muscles tensed when I touched him.

  "I'm so sorry."

  He shook his head.

  "A long time ago."

  We continued down the snowy path, and I pet Daisy's soft neck.

  "So, your father, he never remarried?"

  Devlin shook his head. "No. Well, not officially. After that, we lost him to work. He buried himself and his sadness. I was raised by a continued rotation of nannies because we were difficult or, should I rephrase that, because Sissy was evil."

  I laughed. Sissy was evil! Almost at a comical level–like full-on Disney villain bad.

  "That must've been hard."

  He shrugged. "Nobody feels sorry for a rich kid."

  My face flushed.

  I was one of those people. I often wondered how people couldn't see the person behind the circumstance–as if being homeless made you subhuman–but now I realized that maybe I hadn't been seeing rich people as human either. I suddenly had a new understanding of Devlin and perhaps the wrong way I'd been looking at the world.