RING ME: A Fake Fiancé Romance

by Flite, Nora

  I walked quickly towards my sink, rinsing my glass out, letting the water run loudly so I had a reason not to respond. I felt him watching me curiously. My neck began to burn. Just say something! I told myself. I cut the water off because the glass was more than clean and the situation was stretching into being awkward. “It's not bad,” I hesitated, “If you're ready for it.”

  “And you're not ready.”

  Laughing, I faced him and leaned my back against my counter. It was cold through my shirt. “You know how in control I am with my job? I'm OCD about making sure we have the right color stationary during meetings. How would I ever survive all the prep that a baby requires? That extra work, on top of what I do now, it's exhausting to imagine.”

  “Well,” he said, stepping closer to me. “It would be tiring to do it alone, like you're picturing. Ideally, you do it with help.”

  My heart was thumping so hard it was scaring me. “Who's going to help me?”

  Conner flashed me a warm grin as his hands closed on my cheeks. “Your husband.”

  The fluttering in my chest kept spreading. I was too numb to feel his hands on me. “Don't do that,” I whispered.

  He flinched. “What?”

  “Say you'll be my husband... have a family with me... care for me... when I don't even know what you do for a living.” I held up my hand between us so he was forced to look at the diamond he'd graced me with. “How expensive was this? How can you afford it?”

  Conner let a hand fall from my cheek, winding his fingers with mine until the engagement ring was wedged between the gaps of our knuckles. It glimmered in the florescent light of my fish tank. “It doesn't matter what my job was. I wouldn't have bought you something I couldn't afford. I won't make promises I can't keep.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Wait, was? You don't have a job now?”

  He looked genuinely surprised. “I don't want to keep secrets from you.”

  “Then don't.”

  “My old career doesn't matter anymore. Please, believe me.”

  “That's hard when you won't tell me what it was.”

  “I can't.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it'll make things weird,” he snapped, ripping his hand out of mine. He hunched his shoulders, as if he were fighting down a surge of anger. Or maybe shame. Whatever it was, I didn't like it, and it was a credit to my own stubborn nature that I remained where I was. Conner was a big guy, a reaction like his would scare ordinary people away.

  Taking a deep breath, I held my chin high and stood firm. “Everything we've been doing is weird. What could your past do to us that would make things worse?”

  Clutching his forehead, he didn't respond. We were both waiting. Me, for answers. Him? I wasn't sure. Maybe he hoped I'd back down.

  Finally, he looked at me. His eyes weren't angry—they were softened by uncertainty. It broke my heart. “Maya... please... let me tell you when I'm ready.”

  I was going to scream no! I'd been pumping myself up to demand answers. But looking into his earnest, pleading stare, I knew he was begging me for time. I was the one who'd asked him to play this game with me because I had no other options on such short notice.

  Maybe that was why I bent down, scooped up my bag, then walked towards my bedroom. He said nothing, not even when I returned to the kitchen with clean clothes and sneakers on. “I usually go to bed by now,” I said, hoisting the duffel bag onto my shoulder. “Let's get to your place ASAP so I can crash. Otherwise I'll be cranky, and probably want pancakes for breakfast.” I paused. “I'll want those anyway.”

  Conner watched me with growing fascination. The tension left his body, his shoulders slumping. When he smiled, my heart soared. Dammit. I was growing weak to his charms. “I make a mean waffle,” he said.

  I shook my head rapidly. “Pancakes.”

  “Waffles are superior, though.”

  “Superior? Jesus help me, this engagement is going to end with divorce papers before we walk down the aisle.”

  He laughed loud and strong, holding open my front door for me. As I walked by, he bent down, kissing me on the mouth was such energy I lost my balance. When he pulled away, I was disoriented.

  I exhaled. “Don't think for a second that I'm not mad at you.”

  With a wink, he took my bag. “I look forward to making amends.”

  Chapter 8

  Birdhouses

  I STARED AT THE CEILING for a long time. I didn't recognize it, not even when the sun started to slip through the window blinds, illuminating the eggshell white color. This room wasn't mine.

  A warm shape shifted next to me. I rolled over, studying Conner's face while he slept. Everything flooded back—I slumped onto my pillow, breathing easier. Right. I'm sleeping in his bed. I'd forgotten all about the thing we'd done.

  Lifting my hand, I stared at the ring. The sun twinkled on the diamond, highlighting the edges of the exquisite sapphires that framed it. I was engaged. But not really, I quickly reminded myself. Cupping my hand with my other palm, I drew my fingers against my chest in a tight ball.

  Only four more until Pappy's birthday. Was I going to keep this a secret from everyone but my family? Aubrey will flip out if she gets wind of this.

  Oh, dammit. I flipped around, finding my phone buried under my pillow, checking the time with narrowed eyes. I had to get ready for work. Conner's apartment was further away than mine had been, so I had to account for that. I need to shower and change and get going! I'd never been late to work in my life. I wasn't going to start today.

  Shimmying under the blanket, I moved slow so I wouldn't wake Conner. He didn't stir. The sunlight stretched over him, accenting the hard muscles in his arms. The blanket had slipped down to his middle, exposing his upper body in all its delicious glory.

  It had been a very long time since I'd slept at a guy's place. Ben had been an early riser—earlier than me. I didn't remember catching him in a vulnerable spot like this. Or, if I had, it was erased by the new, powerful memory Conner had made.

  Even lying motionless, he looked like a warrior. His washboard abs drew my eye... I was fascinated by how his chest rose up and down with each peaceful breath.

  Focus, I scolded myself. Snatching up my duffel bag from where I'd dropped it last night, I walked into his master bathroom. Like the rest of his place, the room was immense and luxurious. I'd been stunned last night when I entered his apartment.

  “This is all yours?” I'd asked him, circling the huge living room with its recessed lighting and ivory colored furniture. One wall was all windows that faced the city, giving a perfect view of the Cumberland river in the distance.

  Conner had shrugged it off, like he was a little embarrassed. It made me more curious than ever about his financial situation. I made okay money running my own marketing business, but even I couldn't sniff at a place like this!

  Now, I stood in front of the walk-in shower, turning the oil-rubbed bronze handle until hot water poured out of the umbrella sized shower head. Steam filled the room. I loved a good, scalding shower, it always cleared my head. This was no different. Under the pelting, cleansing water, my thoughts focused in on my situation with fresh clarity.

  When I get to work, I can't tell anyone about this. In my perfect world, the deal I'd struck with Conner would never be known to anyone but me, him, my mother, my aunt, and Pappy. That was it. Then once everything was squared away, I could return to my career-focused life without any lingering problems.

  The more people involved in a secret, the more likely it wouldn't be a secret anymore. I loved Aubrey, but explaining everything to her would be too complicated. Just imagining it was exhausting.

  With any luck, this will be settled and done with by the end of the week. I soaped my body up, spotting the diamond ring again. I hope he can return this and get his money back. If not, I'd give him the rest. Conner deserved being made whole. He was doing enough to help me as is. Way more than he should be.

  More than I deserved.


  Wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I dried myself off in front of the bathroom's floor length wall to wall mirror. Seeing myself made me remember how I'd looked in the video Conner had taken of me in the hotel room. I shivered with a wave of hot, raw arousal. Placing my palm on the mirror, I looked deep into my own eyes. My cheeks were red from more than the steamy shower.

  I wonder... if he'd ever fuck me like this. I spread my hands further on the mirror, letting my towel fall to the floor. It would be incredibly sexy to see his face, and my face, as we both lose control.

  Shaking myself, I quickly changed into clean clothes for work. I was lucky that the black ankle-length skirt and long-sleeve deep purple blouse weren't wrinkled from being in the bag all night.

  I'd packed one nice pair of shoes—low heel black straps—which I tucked my toes into before exiting the bathroom. Before I noticed Conner wasn't in bed, I smelled the wonderful buttery scent of pancakes. My stomach growled angrily. Smiling with surprised delight, I walked out into the kitchen. Conner had promised to make amends.

  I wasn't ready for what I saw.

  He was shirtless in front of the huge marble island in the middle of the kitchen. On the stove was a red pan that he was shaking gently. The second he spotted me, he flashed a wicked grin. “Morning, Sunshine,” he said, expertly flipping the pancake. He added it to the stack he'd created on a platter on the counter. “Hungry?”

  “Yes,” I said honestly, coming closer. He was wearing a pair of gray workout pants that sat low on his hips, showing off his angular pelvic bones and lower belly muscles. Gorgeous. “Did my shower wake you up?”

  “It's not a sound I'm used to hearing.” Grabbing two plates with pancakes on them, he motioned for me to follow him. He opened a door by the huge windows, revealing the outdoor balcony with its round table set for two people. “Sit, do you want coffee?”

  “Please.” While I waited for him to come back, I looked out at the beautiful view. The wind was gentle on my damp hair. I felt like a woman dining out on an expensive vacation.

  Conner sat down across from me, handing me a steaming mug. He was still shirtless and didn't seem to care. “Try the pancakes before they get cold,” he said.

  I stared at the plate, then at him, my lips pursed in a dubious smile.

  “What?” he laughed.

  “Nothing. Or, I guess, everything. I can't believe you really made me breakfast.”

  “I said it was a deal.”

  “Sure, but people say stuff like that all the time without being serious.”

  “Not me,” he said, half smirking.

  Unsure how to respond, I chopped at the pancakes with my fork. They were soft, cutting easily, chewing easier. I groaned as their subtle sweetness filled my mouth. “So good!”

  “Please leave me a good review,” he said, laughing. As good as the pancakes were, the view of him adjusting on the chair, ink on his skin flexing, was better.

  I devoured the two pancakes in a flash. “Those were seriously delicious, Conner.”

  “Let me get you more.” He started to stand.

  “No, no,” I said, waving my hands. “I couldn't. I want to, believe me.”

  Sitting back down, Conner smiled like he knew something I didn't. It was cocky, but I liked it, and... he deserved to feel a little proud. He'd done an ace job. “Next time I'll make you waffles. I really do make the best ones.”

  “I bet.” Scanning the skyline, I sighed out of relaxation. “Pity I have to run off to work. This view is stunning. I can't believe you live here.”

  “Why?”

  “It just seems like a lot for one person.”

  His jaw tensed. “Mn. I've thought about getting a dog.”

  “I like dogs.” He stared at me, and I thought about what I'd said. “I mean, not that it matters if I like dogs. I don't live here,” I laughed awkwardly. “You should do what you want. I've never had anything but fish.”

  “Never? Not even when you were a kid?”

  “I had cats. Or, well, my grandmother had cats. I spent a lot of time over at her house, so I felt like they were mine. My granddad couldn't stand them, though. They'd chase the birds that tried to live in the birdhouses he and I made. That was his favorite thing, making birdhouses with me. I loved it too.” I smiled softly at the memory. “He complained about those cats all the time. Up until she passed away. After that, he never said a bad word.”

  Conner was silent, his chin on his fist as he listened to me. I started to squirm uneasily—had I overshared? Dammit. He'd made me pancakes, and I'd brought the mood down by talking about my dead grandmother. This was why I sucked at relationships, I could never read the mood of the men I was interested in.

  He stood up, grabbing my hands, pulling me from my chair. “Let me show you something.”

  Blinking, I followed him as he guided me down his balcony. It wrapped around the apartment, taking us to a side with a shoulder-high barrier that faced the rising sun. This was near his bedroom, I realized.

  Conner pointed—I followed his finger, and gasped. “If I knew you liked birdhouses,” he said softly, standing close, “I would have moved the table to this side so we could eat here.”

  Hanging from a high corner of the wall was a red and blue birdhouse. As I watched, a yellow finch darted inside, then out again, singing as it went. The sight of it was spiraling me back in time. I felt the weight of a hammer in my hand, the gentle scolding of my grandfather as he showed me how to hit a nail, how to not bend the heads, and how to fit the roof into place just right.

  Rocked by an emotional wave, I slid my hand into Conner's. He held it tight, wordlessly holding me against his shoulder. When he kissed me, the flavor of pancakes still lingered on his lips.

  It was the best thing I'd ever tasted.

  Chapter 9

  Dirty Ideas

  “EARTH TO MAYA?”

  I jolted upwards in my chair, slamming my knee into my desk. “Son of a—!”

  “Sorry,” Aubrey said, wincing. “I didn't mean to scare you, you were just staring off into space.”

  “Was I?” Running my hand through my hair, I felt the tell-tale sensation of my naked finger. I'd taken the engagement ring off before I got out of my Uber at work. I'd refused to let Conner drop me off, worried we'd be seen by someone who knew me. Removing the ring was the next logical step.

  But I... kind of felt weird not wearing it.

  Had I gotten used to it that fast?

  “What did you need from me?” I asked, focusing on my friend. Aubrey was still peering at me like she was trying to figure something out. I stood taller, giving my best I'm the boss pose.

  She relaxed her shoulders. “These are the newest client request forms. Can you go over them and sign off on any you want me to contact for following up?”

  “Sure, but do we have time for more new clients?” I flipped through the papers with a mild frown.

  “Generally? No. But I know you and your willingness to ignore the 40 hour work week, so I assumed you'd take on one or two and fit them in by working weekends.”

  I sucked on my lower lip. “I can't do that.”

  “Bwah?” she asked, not hiding her confused laugh.

  “I can't work this weekend.”

  “Okay,” she said, back to squinting at me. “Why?”

  My face was getting warm—she saw my blush, and I felt my explanation disintegrating before I got it out. “I don't have to explain anything to you,” I snapped. Her eyes went wide. I regretted my harsh tone and fumbled to fix it. “I just... have things planned.”

  “Okay, Boss,” she said, gathering the papers back up. “Your obedient assistant will remember her place.”

  “Aubrey—”

  “The Gibraldi group is coming in soon to go over mock-ups for their next event. I'll prepare the conference room.” With that she spun, stalking off with her head held high. I felt like total trash. Aubrey was my best friend and while working together had its occasional flaw, we were usually good a
t navigating the boss-assistant relationship.

  Miserable with how I'd behaved, I sank low in my chair. This was a good reminder that I had to get the stuff with my mom solved ASAP. More than a week of this nonsense was going to strain things with Aubrey. She'd been there for me after Ben had crushed my heart and my self-esteem, and she'd asked no explanation for any of it.

  She deserved better than this.

  I FLIPPED THROUGH PAGE after page of pretty blonde girls holding guitars. They all had on diamond earrings, luxury brands, and they laughed as they lounged on the hoods of expensive cars. Not one of them was playing an instrument. The mock-ups for the release packet for Nashville's newest—hopefully annual—music event, Summer Heat Fest, had finally arrived.

  “So you see,” Michael said, “The plan is for these to hit coffee shops and music store shelves in two weeks.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke. I ignored his salesman smile, distracted by the flashy watch he wore. “If you see our vision—”

  “What is that?” I asked, pointing at his wrist.

  Michael blinked. “This? It's a Rolex.”

  “How much did it cost?”

  He creased his lips, flustered as he looked at the people sitting around the table with us. The Gibraldi team were all men. “I don't know, a few hundred dollars? Why?”

  “The musicians you're trying to convince to come to your festival don't have that kind of money lying around.” I pushed the mock-ups back to him. “Why are none of these women playing any music?”

  Michael looked lost. Another man, a much older one, cleared his throat. His forehead shined in the lights of my conference room. “Ma'am... it's paper. You couldn't hear the music if you wanted to.”

  “But you can make it look like they're actually enjoying a performance. Channel some energy, some soul! I'm sure if you got one of these singers in front of a mic and asked her to play, you'd get beautiful photos.”

  They shared a bemused look. “Ms. Fontine, with all due respect, none of these people are actual musicians. They're just models.”