My Billionaire Fake Fiance: A Romantic Comedy (Beaky Tiki Series Book 1)

by Elyse Riggs

  Honestly, I could spend all morning wrapped up in these satiny sheets.

  But it’s not going to happen. Not because of any regrets that I have. Because it’s the perfect crime. Now I can sneak out of here and go on with my life. Nobody other than me will ever know that I broke my number one rule or that last night even happened.

  My phone vibrates again, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turn the alarm off and stretch, careful not to make any noise. No sense waking him and endangering my total victory.

  I pull the covers back and slip out of bed as quietly as I can. Ha, like a ninja. Then I freeze for a moment, holding my breath just to be sure.

  He sighs and snuggles his head back into the pillow. In his defense, and I know this from experience, they are really comfortable pillows.

  I realize I’m holding my breath and release it softly. Whew. It’s okay, Kaylee, you can breathe. Breathing is good, passing out onto the floor and waking him up is bad.

  Looking down, I realize that I’m still in Jellybean’s old college t-shirt. It’s soft and warm and smells of his scent. Pine and musk and old cedar. Before last night, I never caught this particular scent before, but it’s intoxicating. and I’m already in danger of wanting more.

  The t-shirt hangs just past my hips and fits in that perfect, satisfying, way. The way that covers almost everything important in a soft, long-broken-in, non-constricting way that also manages to not look like a Momo.

  It’s sleep tee boyfriend shirt perfection, minus the boyfriend. I decide to steal it. A soft, comfortable, delicious smelling memento of the occasion. Besides, if he is as rich as he lets on, he can afford to buy a thousand more Harvard-College Of-Business tee shirts if he wants. And if he’s faking it, then he fully deserves to have the tee stolen.

  The morning sunlight picks up intensity behind the curtain, making it easier to locate my clothes on the floor. I gather them up in my arms into a clothes ball. Then a decision has to be made. Where do I change? I decide it’s too risky to change here in the master bedroom.

  Last night I saw several other bathrooms scattered around the suite. I’ll just use one of those.

  I tiptoe dramatically to the door, excited at the prospect of slipping out and getting on with my life. It’s exhilarating. Like I’m pulling off a crime. Not a real crime. A pretend crime. Either way, there’s a little bit of a rush from it.

  Then I crack the door open. It gives a nerve wracking and unexpected creak.

  I freeze again and force myself to breathe in and out. Stop holding your breath, Kaylee.

  The moment passes and he stays asleep. I take the opportunity to sneak all the way out of the room, still holding the clothes ball lightly in my arms. Then I quietly shut the door. Whew. Did it.

  I turn toward the rest of the suite. The morning is a beautiful one. Light streams in through every window, and I can see that the beach already has people sprinkled across it.

  The windows are open, letting in a gorgeous morning sea breeze. I tiptoe lightly across the suite to look for another bathroom.

  Which is funny. I’m still tiptoeing even though I’m not in the bedroom anymore. I exhale, breathing out a small laugh.

  Then I pass right by the man and the woman sitting nonchalantly and freakishly quietly on the couch to my left.

  I freeze again, my brain trying desperately to back up and process the information. Are there really people right there sitting quietly on the couch? Have they been here this whole time? Who are they? What are they doing here? Why didn’t I see them before?

  Maybe I imagined the people. I take a couple of steps backward past the couch again. There are, in fact, two people sitting there. One man, one woman. Sitting absolutely silent on the couch. Who does that?

  I stare for a moment. They are not sitting next to each other couple-style, more like hanging out with a friend or someone you happen to know and are comfortable with.

  At five o clock in the morning. Staring at me. Are they in the wrong room? Am I in the wrong room? What the hell?

  They look up at me and smile. Then the girl goes back to flipping through the hotel magazine. The one that details the on-site restaurants and amenities and concierge services. Along with nearby attractions and things-not-to-miss. Well, she may be a possible intruder, but at least she will be well informed.

  I look at them. They look back at me. The other odd thing, in addition to the fact that they are here in the first place and that it’s five-o-clock-in-the-fucking-morning is that they are both dressed to the nines. Did I mention that it is five o’clock in the morning?

  Who dresses like they’re ready to attend high tea at this time of the morning? The woman is thin and tall with straight, long, dark hair and perfect makeup. Ugh.

  The guy has curly brown hair and is an inch or two shorter than the woman. They sit on the couch relaxed and killing time like they’re waiting for their names to be called at a salon.

  Suddenly, to my utter horror, I realize I’m standing here in the tee shirt and nothing else.

  Under their wordless gaze, I suddenly became acutely aware that I’m not wearing a bra. Or panties. Leave it to me to run into well dressed and judgy strangers while trying to make my getaway. I decide to cover my chest with my arms.

  That ends up being a tactical error as I forget I’m still holding my clothes in my arms in a clothes ball. I watch in disbelief as my bra falls to the floor.

  I look from the floor back up to the strangers’ eyes and try to figure out what to do next. Do I scoop up my bra like I’m embarrassed? Why am I worried about what the well-dressed strangers think? Why aren’t they saying anything?

  Right on cue, my panties take that exact moment, while I’m distracted, to squirm out of my grasp and join the bra on the floor. Oh hell. That causes something in my brain to finally snap.

  “Who the hell are you people?” I ask.

  Now that the ice is broken between us, I wonder if maybe I should kneel down to scoop up my bra and panties. But that’s when they start talking, so I decide to wait.

  “Well,” the girl says to the guy on the couch, shrugging, “she’s definitely nicer than the last girl.”

  “Better looking too,” he answers.

  Now that they are talking like I’m not even in the room, I wish they would shut up. It’s all very confusing. Did they, in fact, know Jellybean?

  Still trying to make sense of things, I decide to ignore them and make a play for my bra and panties since the situation feels like it’s starting to spiral out of control.

  Carefully, I position myself so that I’m kneeling down in front of the people on the couch. Because I’m quite sure that from behind, everything is visible due to my lack of panties.

  The conversation with the strangers is louder than I intend. And of course, the moment I bend over, I hear the door open behind me.

  I sigh in frustration. If Jellybean is standing behind me, which I’m pretty sure he is, he’s getting an eyeful right now. This is not how any of this morning was supposed to go down.

  I suck in a breath and try to get a handle on my rising anger. This sneak-off could not possibly have gone worse. I’m supposed to be out of here and on my merry way by now. Except, I’m no longer merry.

  I see the faces of the couch people swivel toward me, then to Jellybean, and then back to me.

  I grab my clothes and stand back up.

  “What the hell are you guys doing here?” Jellybean asks the people on the couch. His voice is angry and growly. It reminds me of why he was so irresistible last night.

  The guy on the couch looks up from his phone and stares at something behind me, presumably Jellybean. Then he glances at the girl on the couch next to him. “At least the two of them are on the same page, taking their anger out on us instead of each other in what is an awkward, stressful situation. That’s what you’re supposed to do. At least that’s what my therapist says.”

  Did couch stranger just assume that Jellybean and I are a couple? I turn around and
shoot Jellybean an annoyed look. The look he’s giving me is far from annoyed, and I know he saw me bend over.

  Then Jellybean turns his attention back to the couch people. His green eyes flash hot and he looks like he’s trying to suppress a snarl. “I asked what you two are doing here.”

  From context, I guess that he knows them. The frown and care lines that were on his face last night are back with a vengeance, and they have a friend in the vein popping out of his forehead.

  Yikes. He looks like he’s going to yell at them. No wait, he looks like he wants to pull out a pistol and challenge them to a duel.

  “There’s been a development. On the board,” Couch guy says. “It’s important.”

  “And I was just bored,” couch girl chimes in, wearing a grin. “This trip sounded fun. And I have to say, so far it has not disappointed.”

  None of this conversation makes any sense to me. That’s a good thing, I remind myself. It means that none of this is any of my business.

  The couch people seem to know Jellybean, so all of this is now his problem.

  I just want out of here. I’m angry that I didn’t get my sneak-off. But to be fair, the only people who know about last night are a couple more tourists and Jellybean. So what? Maybe, despite it all, I can still get out of here with as little fuss as possible.

  “I’m going to go change,” I announce. As soon as I say it, I realize it isn’t necessary for me to explain my decision to them, but it feels too late to take it back.

  Ugh, why am I so bad at awkward situations? For a brief, awful moment, I wonder why I thought this situation would go differently when the rest of my life is a hot mess.

  I head back into Jellybean’s bedroom now that he’s awake and there’s no point to sneaking around anymore. It seems like a better option than wandering around the rest of the suite carrying my undies.

  I head into the bedroom, half waiting to hear the shouting match that I assume is coming. I’m annoyed and want to leave, but now that I’m outside of the conversation I have to admit that I’m both curious and a little nosy.

  Instead, I hear footsteps behind me as Jellybean follows me into the bedroom. The door opens and then closes.

  I do the same with my mouth, as I wonder why the hell he is following me when he’s supposed to be out there arguing with the couch people, whoever they are.

  Instead, he stands there in his boxers with his arms crossed, staring at me. “You were sneaking out?”

  I scowl at him. “What? Of course I was sneaking out. That was the deal, remember? No names, no getting tangled up in the whole bullshit vacation boyfriend and girlfriend drama. We’re both adults here. So yes, as agreed, I was sneaking out.”

  Now it’s my turn to be accusatory, since until a few minutes ago I was under the impression that we were alone in the suite. “Who are those people?”

  Jellybean sighs. “They’re my brother and sister.”

  I close my eyes and try to count to ten to calm down like my own therapist suggested. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call Fi my therapist, but she read it in a psychology article, so it’s close enough. I don’t even make it to three. “What are they doing in your room so early in the morning?”

  “We took the redeye,” a voice from the living room shouts.

  “Oh my God, now they’re eavesdropping. How did they even get in here? What do you do, share a room with all of them? Are more relatives coming?”

  Jellybean’s eyes widen and he indicates his head toward the bathroom. First, he crosses and locks the bedroom door and then he goes into the bathroom.

  I roll my eyes and follow him into the bathroom. Then he shuts and locks that door. Then he turns on the shower.

  “Really?” I ask him, putting one hand defiantly on my hip. “Are you sure this is enough privacy?”

  It feels like overkill to me. After all this is a one-night stand, not a spy thriller. “What are you going to do, give me some illegal insider trading tips?”

  For the first time since last night, I see the smirk playing at the edge of his lips. But right now, stress and fear are winning out in the battle of his adorable facial expressions. “I happen to think this is just the right amount of secrecy.”

  “The right amount of secrecy for what?” I demand to know.

  He sighs. “Okay, listen. I checked out what my brother said earlier about there being a development where I work. And he’s right. A guy named Mark is making a play for my job. In fact, there’s an emergency board meeting on Sunday afternoon.”

  A growing worry gnaws at my insides. That maybe there is more going on here than me throwing panties on and hitting the road. I give him the universal girl stare that means get on with it so I can put my damn clothes on already.

  “Then I guess it’s time for you to be flying back to wherever it is you came from, Jellybean,” I say, hoping this is an opportunity for me to get the hell out of here without getting dragged into all the drama.

  “I can’t just go back,” he says.

  “Bummer,” I say, giving up and finally slipping my panties on whether he’s standing there or not. “Listen, you’re a grown man. You can do whatever you want. You had a fling, it’s over. It’s fine. Trust me, you don’t need my permission to go get on with your life.”

  He slumps back against the wall, as if explaining all of this is painful to him. Like I’m the one who’s stupid. Well, it’s his arrogant face that’s stupid.

  “This guy Mark is trying to convince the board that he’s more stable than I am. I take one fucking vacation all year and he pulls this stunt the minute my back is turned. Snake.”

  There is a moment of silence as I pull on my skirt from last night but keep his t-shirt on hoping he won’t notice in all of his obvious emotional upheaval. He looks deep in thought. Then he turns to me. “The board is naming a new CEO, soon. The job’s supposed to be mine. But Mark’s married. The board thinks that means he’s settled down. I’m not in a relationship and they are going to hold it against me. Don’t you see? If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked for.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” I say softly. “That sucks. They sound very mean. Good luck to you, I hope you win in the end.” I say the words, but I don’t think he’s listening. He’s lost in his thoughts.

  “Thanks, Coconut. What I really need now is a girlfriend. Oh, or even better, a fiancé.”

  I blink at him. Sure, he’s sexy and he was fun last night. But none of this is any of my business. I have to get to work. “Good luck with that.”

  “Wait, the photographer last night,” his face lights up in a way that should not be possible at five-ish in the morning before coffee. “It was probably the paparazzi. The photos that he took are probably already out there. Of us together. If so, then I can prove that you and I were a couple even before this whole hostile takeover thing began. It might be enough to sway the board.”

  Now instead of getting out of here easy and quickly, the situation feels like it is starting to approach telenovela level drama.

  How can any of this be real? I hold up a hand for him to pause, then I pinch myself on the arm. Hard. Ouch. Then I do it again. It doesn’t work, though.

  I’m still here, in Jellybean’s bathroom with the door locked and the shower running, whispering like a paranoid maniac.

  Is he seriously suggesting what I think he’s suggesting? “Wait. Are you seriously saying you want me to be your fiancé?” I shake my head. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. But as I keep saying, I have to get to work.”

  He bangs the back of his head gently against the wall, and this time the action makes me feel better because it means that he’s experiencing as much emotional turmoil this morning as he’s causing me. Ha, serves you right.

  I run a hand through my hair. Despite all of the drama, he is ridiculously handsome, even first thing in the morning and despite the scowl that he’s wearing. Or maybe because of it.

  His green eyes flash at me as I stare at the stub
ble and the brown hair I still want to run my fingers through. It reminds me of last night. Stop it, Kaylee. Don’t get distracted. Get out of here now. Run!

  And then my eyes betray me and drop to the rippling muscles in his arms and chest and even further down to the boxers he’s wearing.

  I know the anaconda that’s hiding in there. And I know that if I don’t get out of here right now, I might get sucked into Jellybean’s world again.

  Not to mention all of the drama. Am I the only one incapable of a morning after sneak-off?

  That’s when his eyes light up. He obviously has an idea. It couldn’t be more obvious even if a giant lightbulb literally appeared above his head. “Listen, I know it wasn’t our deal, Coconut, but what if you stay the rest of the weekend as my fiancé? Don’t worry. It’s not real. Just to help me out. Please.”

  I feel my mouth fall open and realize I’m gaping like one of the coconut monkeys from last night. “I’m sorry, what? That’s crazy.”

  “Look,” he says, “it’s a business decision, right? You pretend to be my fiancé, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I stare at him for a long moment. This guy has completely lost his mind.

  Chapter Seven

  Chase

  There are a million things going on in my head right now. Or several million if you count the money on the line.

  But I can barely focus on business when I’m looking at her dark curls. And don’t get me started on her curves. My body is already responding to her. Again. Her determined brown eyes stare at me angrily, turning me on even more.

  She’s wearing my old college tee shirt too well. The sight of her bending over just a few minutes ago still threatens to banish all rational thought from my brain. I have to fight it. I have to make her understand how much I need this.

  “Okay, I realize that saying I’ll make it worth your while seems a little bit,” I try to figure out a tactful way of saying what I mean.

  “Sleazy,” she suggests, lifting an eyebrow at me.

  “Fine,” I admit. “Making it worth your while was a bad choice of words.”