by Emma Quinn
Copyright 2020 by Emma Quinn
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
WARNING: This eBook contains mature themes and language intended for 18+ readers only.
The billionaire's (fake) fiancée
Emma Quinn
Content
The billionaire's (fake) fiancée
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Extract from the book: Sugar Rush
The billionaire's (fake) fiancée
Emma Quinn
1
Peter
“ T
here were only two things in life that I needed: money, and the passion to make more.” I paused and allowed my words to settle in amongst the crowd. The presentation hall was full of eager investors, all of them gazing up at me with wide-eyes and smiles of admiration. I continued, “Yes, it was true that I came from a very long line of wealthy businessmen and women. My great grandfather got his start in Texan oil and my great grandmother was founder of Charlia, one of the world’s most exclusive jewelry brands. But I tried my very best not to define myself by their success. Rather, I strove to create my very own.”
I motioned behind me to the massive screen, which had up until this point been showcasing Alance Tech’s bright and bold logo of royal blue and brilliant gold. The slide seamlessly faded into an image of the company’s rising stock graph, the end point peaking at over 500 per unit. It was wildly impressive. Especially considering we started the year at only 150.
“Was it hard work? Of course. But was it worth it?” I paused for effect, waiting for my cue. It was a trick I’d picked up over the years. Everybody loved anticipation before a big reveal. It helped to keep everybody’s eyes on me, the star of the show. The presentation hall’s lights suddenly flicked on, blinding and overwhelming by design. “Hell yes!” I shouted into the microphone I was holding, my voice ringing out over the room’s booming speaker system.
The audience erupted into applause, clapping and cheering and whistling. It was deafening, really; an incomprehensible chorus of approval.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I continued into the microphone, “welcome to the fifth annual Alance Tech Innovation Conference. As many of you may already know, I’m Peter Alance, the founder and CEO. I’m very excited to present to you all of the company’s plans for the upcoming year. As some of Alance Tech’s most involved investors, please accept my humblest thanks for your continued support. Now, without further ado, let me pass the presentation over to my partner in crime and Alance Tech’s vice president, Billy Waters.”
Billy stepped out onto the stage from the wing looking as dapper and sharp as ever. I’d known him since our time together at MIT, back when we were more science nerds than rising start-up entrepreneurs. The only differences between our college years and the present were that Billy was already starting to go bald at the ripe age of thirty-seven, and that we were stupidly successful. Apart from that, nothing had changed. Billy was still the creative genius and innovator behind the majority of the company’s projects, while I was the face and primary investor. Together, we were unstoppable.
“Um, thank you,” he said into his mic. His voice was smaller, a little shakier than mine, but I knew he could hold his own when it came down to it. Nevertheless, there was a reason why I was responsible for conducting interviews and meetings with interested parties. In those situations, Billy was just there for support to answer more technical questions that I didn’t know how to answer.
I stepped off stage to the sound of loud applause as Billy began his presentation. We had a number of speakers lined up over the next couple of days to go into more detail about our upcoming projects. My company had their hand in a little bit of everything –from clean energy solutions to space travel technology to the field of medical advancement. Because we were involved in so many different fields, our investors had a much easier time seeing returns on their investments because of how diversified our expertise was. But that was a really clinical way of putting it. I liked to tell people that people invested in my stock because they know I’m a winner.
It was just that simple.
Stacy, the girl I hired as a temporary replacement for my old personal assistant, was waiting with a can of soda water in one hand and a clipboard with important documents attached in the other. She handed both to me –well, more like shoved them at me– as she mumbled, “Your, uh, appointment tomorrow at, like, ten? The one with, um, Dostco? Yeah, I think they rescheduled.”
“You think?” Yeah. I was definitely going to have to find myself a new personal assistant. Ideally one with a few more braincells and a sliver of finesse. “When did they reschedule the meeting to? We planned to get together almost a month in advance.”
Stacy, the poor wide-eyed thing, simply shrugged at me. “I wrote it down on my hand, but I forgot about it, and like, totally smudged the ink before I could tell you. So I think you’re meeting at four. Or nine. One of the two.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, but I refused to raise my voice. It wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart or anything. Stacy was most certainly going to be receiving a pink slip the moment I could find the time to host job interviews for her position. No, the reason I didn’t yell or get upset with her was because I didn’t want to waste the energy. I had more important things to deal with than worry about the poor work performance of a temp. “Call them back and reconfirm,” I ordered without another word. “And this time, write it down on a piece of paper. Can you do that for me?”
“Um, yeah. Totally. But, uh–”
“What is it now?”
“Where are you going? Don’t you have, like, a conference to run?”
I almost let out a frustrated sigh. I walked as we spoke, unwilling to spend any more time than necessary on the woman. “I told you this morning that I had to head straight back to the hotel to finish off some paperwork before the investors banquet tonight. You did call the driver to pick me up, didn’t you?”
“Oh, shit. I totally forgot. I’m sorry. I’ll do it right now.”
There was no doubt about it. Stacy was so fired. I was going to send the official paperwork through to legal the second I landed back in New York. Hell, I was half-tempted to lay her off then and there, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get through the week-long conference without a bit of help. Even if it was incompetent help.
I took the side hallway to exit the venue, the one that the massive team of banquet servers used to get hot food from the massive kitchen downstairs up to the main floor. My face was too recognizable to take the more direct route t
hrough the main lobby out. As grateful as I was that my name and face were practically household names, the overly eager people who wanted to get a word in with me –whether to compliment my achievements, tell me that they have a brand new invention they’d like to back, or that they’d like to set up an interview– would more often than not take up way too much of my time. Instead, I liked to use back entrances and unconventional arrival times to keep as much of my privacy as possible.
My driver wound up picking me up by the service entrance of the venue. Sure, he was ten minutes later than our original agreed upon pick-up time, but I was going to let Stacy take the fall for that one. I got into the back of the black SUV and strapped in, slumping into the firm leather seat. I practically chugged the club soda I’d been given, relishing the way it fizzed down my throat and left my chest both refreshed and burning at the same time. After a big presentation, I liked to cool down with a chilled soft drink. It was actually a habit that I picked up from my father. He had a similar ritual after a successful meeting, although his celebratory drink of choice was always vodka. Mother liked to say that he was so successful that he wound up killing his liver. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake.
I arrived at the hotel in record time. Traffic had been surprisingly light. When I stepped out of the vehicle, the doorman who I tipped graciously earlier that week immediately pulled the door open for me. He looked all prim and proper in his bright red jacket lined with gold, his pristine white gloves, and the little hat he wore atop his head. The young man looked no older than twenty, still fresh-faced and a bit pimply around the hairline and chin.
“Mr. Alance,” he greeted, “welcome back.”
“Thank you, Tommy,” I chuckled, tucking a twenty-dollar bill in his jacket’s front pocket. “Would you mind doing me a favor and letting me know if you see any reporters snooping around? I’d like a little heads up to slip away, if it comes to that.”
The doorman beamed. “Of course, Mr. Alance. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out. I hope the rumors aren’t getting you down.”
I forced a polite smile. “Rumors are just words. They can’t hurt me. Have yourself a goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Alance.”
I tread across the polished floors of the Four Season’s main lobby, admiring how everything appeared to be painted in golden light from the dazzling crystal chandelier hanging above my head. The area was relatively clear of people, so I easily made it to the elevators without being spotted. I rode the shiny silver elevator all the way to the fifteenth floor and strode down the long hallway, stopping at the large white double doors with the numbers 1501 bolted to them.
I walked into the suite to the sound of pop music playing over the surround sound speaker system. In the living room, several young women were hosting their own little party, flutes of champagne and colorful cocktails in hand. They were laughing and singing along to the music, their voices high and sweet and bubbly. They were all scantily dressed, the majority of them in nothing more than their lace underwear.
“Ah, just the way I left you,” I chuckled.
One of the women, a curvaceous redhead with long lashes and pouty lips looked over her shoulder and squealed, “You’re back! About time, Peter, we were getting so bored.”
Another one of the women, the one with a brunette pixie cut and floral tattoos running up and down the length of her arms and back, quickly waltzed over and grabbed me by the tie. “We’re so glad you’re back, handsome. Do you want me to whip you up a drink?”
I shook my head, circling her tiny waist with my arms to pull her in close. “That’s alright. I’d rather drink you up.”
She giggled. “Well, aren’t you a charmer?”
The other women, jealous of the attention I was giving the brunette, immediately came over to surround me. They clung to my arms, shamelessly grabbing themselves a handful in order to vie for my attention. I wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Far from it. Was I concerned that the rumors swirling around me? The ones that claimed I was some hedonistic billionaire who did what he wanted with company money? No, I wasn’t concerned at all. If anything, I owned up to it. The only mistruth that bothered me was that people believed I dipped into Alance Tech’s profits to pay for my lavish lifestyle. I may have been a man who knew what he licked –fast cars, pretty women, the finer things in life– but I was still a man of honor. I’d never dream of skimming money for personal gain.
To me, I was Alance Tech. And Alance Tech was me. Why would I ever think of stealing from myself?
I smirked. “Well, ladies, shall I take you on that tour of the suite like I promised?”
The redhead massaged my shoulders and grazed her lips along the back of my neck. “How about we start with the bedroom?” The rest of the girls all nodded in agreement, working together to drag me into the next room.
2
Rachel
“ D
id you pack your lunch?” David asked hurriedly. He anxiously wiped at the lenses of his thick-rimmed glasses with the edge of his sweater’s sleeve.
I patted my backpack down and felt the hard outline of the Tupperware container inside. “Yes,” I checked off.
“Did you remember to brush your teeth?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”
“Do you have your keys?”
I reached into the small pocket of the blazer I’d purchased only a day ago from the thrift store down the street. The cool metal of several keys brushed against my finger. “Yes,” I confirmed.
“Did you remember to charge your phone?”
I sighed impatiently. “Yes. I charged my phone overnight. I’ve even got an extra battery pack with me just in case.”
David squinted at me, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied me from head-to-toe. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Did you remember to wear fresh underwear?”
I laughed, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a weirdo.”
He threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, you’ve got to start your first day off right. That includes a fresh set undies.”
“What are you? My mother?”
“I’m just your broke-ass roommate who wants you to succeed at your new job so you can start paying your half of the damn bills,” he rushed, but there wasn’t any heat behind his words. “Are you sure you want to work there, Ray? Why couldn’t you just work with me at the café?”
I offered him a small smile, tilting my head to the side. “I don’t want to work there, but the starting salary is way higher than that of a barista. Er, no offence.”
He shrugged. “None taken. I just… I just don’t understand how you landed a job at Alance Tech of all places.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“And as a personal assistant? I thought you wanted to start building your portfolio.”
I sighed for real as I cast my eyes to the shag carpet. Our apartment was in a desperate need of a vacuuming, but neither of us had had any time to get our chores done. “Graphic design studios aren’t exactly looking for new hires right now. The economy’s just not good enough. Besides, I want to start up my own business. Why work for someone else when I can be my own boss?”
“Exactly. Why don’t you just start freelancing? I’m sure you can land yourself a client.”
“We’ve been over this,” I mumbled as I slipped into my black flats –also from the thrift store. The bottoms were a little worn out, and the previous owner’s footprint had effectively been pressed into the memory foam soles. “We need the money, David. Like you said, I’ve got my half of the bills to pay.”
David grimaces. “You know I’m kidding, right?” he asked warmly. “I’m more than happy to cover for you until you start getting enough business.”
I shook my head, smiling. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? You’ve been carrying me long enough. It’s my turn to help contribute. Plus, with what they’re going to pay me at Alance Tech
, I’ll be able to put away tons of money in no time. Once I know I’ve got enough stashed away to cover my half for a year, I’ll give the freelance thing a real shot.”
Something akin to guilt flashed past David’s light blue eyes. He adjusted his glasses at the same time, so I couldn’t quite be sure. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Just don’t sell your soul to those corporate robots, okay?”
I quickly gave David a peck on the cheek and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I promise not to sell my soul to anyone less than the devil. I’ll be home around eight.”
“I can bring something back from the café for you, if you’d like.”
“If you have any apple fritters left, would you–”
“I’ll snag a couple for you,” he finished without skipping a beat.
I grinned. “This is why you’re my best friend.”
“Because of my apple fritter connection?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to be late,” I giggled as I pulled the door open. “I’ll see you later.”
“Have a good day, darling!” he called dramatically after me.
I pretty much had to sprint to catch the bus. It was just about to pull away from the curb, but the driver luckily saw my frenzied dash and delayed departing by a couple of seconds. Alance Tech’s headquarters was located in downtown Manhattan, so I had to take the bus and then hop on the subway, followed by a brisk fifteen-minute walk to get to my job on time. I purposefully left almost an hour earlier than necessary because I was familiar with how terribly late public transit was. Thanks to my brilliant calculations, I wound up arriving at the front of Alance Tech’s massive glass skyscraper with five minutes to spare. Would it have been faster if I’d taken an Uber? Probably, but I didn’t have enough money in my account to call one. Maybe once my paychecks started coming in, I could finally afford to take a car.
