Pretend For Me

by Laurent, River

  "Do I get to be your Maid of Honor?” she asked, leaning over and clasping my hands excitedly.

  I grinned. "Of course.”

  “This calls for a drink," she shouted happily, and waved down a bartender. He was there in a split-second. She ordered margaritas and told him to make them double strong.

  "To fake marriages," I announced, lifting my glass to clink it against hers.

  "To fake marriages," she echoed, a mad giggle escaping her throat.

  I started laughing too.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur, with the two of us drinking and dancing with each other. Now that I understood there wasn’t a person here who didn’t know we were gatecrashers, I didn’t care anymore about pretending to be someone else. Lorraine declared it my unofficial bachelorette party. Such a hilarious concept to me, but I went along with it, letting loose in a way I hadn’t in ages. We ended up having an awesome time. The last thing I remember was Lorraine dancing on the bar counter.

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning, more than a little worse for wear with my feet throbbing like mad. The night before seemed like a dream. An impossible dream. Part of me still believed it could be true, but rational side of me knew it must have been a joke. It had to be some kind of joke, some sick, twisted game that he played to get women into bed with him. Though, it was a hell of an elaborate story to concoct if there really was no use for it...

  Since he never even tried to get me in bed.

  I reached over and grabbed my phone, blearily peering at the screen so I could check the time. I didn’t have work today, at least, so I didn’t have to worry about rolling onto a bus to make it to my shift on time. Instead, I found myself staring at a message.

  A message from the secretary of none other than Gabe Grayson.

  Chapter 8

  Gabe

  I sat in the restaurant unsure if she would even turn up.

  This had to be one of the most spectacularly hair-brained things I’d ever done. I didn’t know her from Eve. She could easily go to the press or to someone who worked with me, bust open my whole scheme, exposing me completely, and ruin my reputation. And yet, here I was, sitting in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Chicago, waiting for a woman I barely knew who I was planning to make my wife as soon as possible.

  What could go wrong?

  Tina, my secretary, had set up the appointment for me, and sent her on a shopping trip with a personal shopper. Not like there was any hurry to get her a wardrobe today, but it was a softening tactic. What woman doesn’t like to shop? Besides, I wanted to keep her busy and not thinking until I could talk to her tonight.

  She could still bail on me, take the clothes and run, or she could come along to tell me she can’t do it, but the one thing I’d learned very early on was… money talks. The deal I was offering was too sweet for most girls to say no to.

  I put my drink on the bar counter and saw her being led in by the hostess.

  Jesus, she looked good enough to eat. Wearing a blue dress and heels, her hair was loose and wild down her back, totally different from all the uptight hairstyles that populated the place. I stood as she approached.

  She slipped into the seat next to me with ease. "Hey," she greeted, a little shyly, as though she wasn’t quite sure what she was meant to say. Then she smiled. Her smile was slightly crooked, but that just gave her face a little more character. In the upper echelons of this city, I was so used to seeing people groomed to perfection that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be around someone who was just normal. It was almost a relief, knowing that she was as real as they came. Even if I was asking her to be my fake wife.

  "Hey," I replied. "Good to see you again, Willow."

  "I didn’t know you were the Gabe Grayson.”

  "Yeah,” I said mockingly. “That’s me, the Gabe Grayson."

  "Gabe Grayson," she repeated, as though she was testing out how the word felt on her tongue. "Well, it’s nice to finally meet you properly, future husband."

  The words caught me off-guard, even though I had engineered it all. The idea of marriage was still a foreign, unfamiliar concept. I hadn’t even given it a thought until last night.

  She raised her eyebrows at me when she noted my reaction. "Is that still on? Did I hallucinate that entire thing?”

  I shook my head. "No, you sure didn’t. I’m glad you brought it up. There’s a lot that we need to go over before we get this started. Let me get you a drink first. What’s your poison?"

  “A glass of white wine would be nice.”

  I ordered the drink and turned back to her.

  "Yeah, I’ve never done the whole arranged marriage thing before, so I think you’re going to have to let me know what the etiquette is," she remarked.

  I glanced around with a frown. In my position, even the walls had ears. "Keep your voice down," I whispered. "The most important part of our bargain is that you maintain complete secrecy. I cannot stress enough how important that is. You or your friend can never talk about this to anyone or the deal is off and you don’t get a penny.”

  "Sorry, sorry," she apologized. "I wasn’t thinking. It’s just... this is a lot to take in. Especially with your... background."

  She really did have the most beautiful eyes. They seemed to light up her whole face, making it radiant. "So, you’ve been doing some research?”

  Her drink arrived and she took a sip. "Yeah, well, I like to at least know something about the guy I’m going to jump into a wedding with," she replied with a grin. "Your resume is pretty impressive though."

  "Sure is," I replied.

  She laughed. "Not afraid of coming across as cocky, huh?”

  I shrugged. "Don’t see any reason to play down my achievements since I worked my ass off to get them.”

  She glanced at me sideways and fire raced through my system. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she had the most beautiful grey eyes. Pale and bright, all at the same time. The soft makeup she wore accentuated her full lips, natural and not overly plumped with fillers or injections.

  I caught myself in my line of thought. No, no, don’t go there Gabe. If this is going to work, you can’t complicate it with sex. I cleared my throat. "Right, let’s get down to the specifics of this deal."

  "That’s how every woman dreams of being proposed to," she shot back, clasping her hand to her heart as though it was more than she could take. She had a sense of humor, which didn’t please me in the least. I didn’t want to be attracted to her. To make this work, I had to set the rules down clearly. We are not lovers. We are not friends. We are business associates.

  A waiter approached with menus for us. I told him we were ready to go to our table and he immediately led us into the restaurant proper.

  I noticed a few people watching us covertly from their tables, probably wondering what the hell I was doing here. I had a bit of a reputation around this city—all right, a big reputation—and it wasn’t for sweeping girls out for romantic dinner dates every chance I got. In fact, word was starting to get around I might not be straight, or have some other perversion that couldn’t be made public.

  Willow ordered a creamy pasta dish, which was another first for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been out on a date and the woman had ordered anything but the lowest-calorie salad with a pained expression on her face.

  When the wine was poured into our glasses and the waiter slinked off, I leaned in to tell her about the deal I had in mind. I told her the relationship would only last for as long as it had to, the time span I was thinking of was a maximum of a year. I was sure of that. Certainly, I wasn’t committing to anything beyond what I utterly had to. For as long as it took the lawyers to make it all nice and legal. I’d already done some research on surrogates and had a few clinics that I was sure would match my needs well. My most discreet lawyer was already at work on the contracts we would need to pull this whole thing off. Everything would be above-board, strictly business, completely platonic. There woul
d be nothing, absolutely nothing going on between us beyond what we had to do in public to convince everyone that we were madly in love.

  "Right," she said, once I had finished my long spiel. "What happens after we’re actually married? Where will I live?"

  "You’ll move in with me, of course," I replied immediately. "I have plenty of spare rooms at my place, and we’ll get one of them set up for you."

  "And I’m assuming this also means that I’ll be giving up my job?”

  "Of course," I replied. "Naturally, I’ll cover all living expenses that come up while you’re staying with me and you’ll have a monthly allowance for shopping and stuff. This would be on top of the agreed final settlement."

  "Well, then…” She leaned back in her seat while staring at me as though she couldn’t quite believe that this was happening, "I don’t think I have any other questions."

  "So it’s safe to say that you’re on board from here on out?” I asked eagerly.

  She hesitated, but only for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, I think it’s safe to say I am.”

  I almost wanted to rub my hands together with the sensation of victory I felt. There you go, granddad. Problem solved and thanks for nothing. I smiled at her. "Great. We can figure out what we’re going to do about the actual wedding part of it before then, but for now, I think we’ve come as far as we can. I’ll make sure you have the contracts by early next week, maybe even before…"

  "You’re going to at least let me finish my meal first, right?" she asked playfully, pointing at the delicious plate of food that had recently arrived in front of her.

  "I’m sure I could see it in my heart to," I teased.

  She giggled and her cheeks became suddenly rosy. Her gaze slid away from me, as if looking me in the eyes was proving a little too difficult. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I think that’s the least you could do, seeing I’m going to be wearing a belly bump for a few months," she pointed out before tucking into her food happily. She closed her eyes and chewed. “Oh, my God,” she gushed. “You have no idea how freaking delicious this is.”

  I smiled at how natural and unguarded her reaction was. It was almost like watching a child.

  As we chatted over our food, I was surprised to note that I was actually enjoying her company. She was smart, well-spoken, and had this goofy sense of humor unlike anything I encountered in the carefully-cultivated corporate world I exclusively moved in. It was actually a wonderful thing to be around someone who was clearly without any hidden agenda, as opposed to someone who was secretly trying to wring me for everything I had. Her brand of vulnerability and openness seemed so magnetic that I had to remind myself again and again, that this was still a business relationship, and I would do well to remember this in the coming months.

  All too soon, the meal ended. I’d even treated myself to dessert. I told myself I was putting on a good show for anyone paying attention to my date. I had to sell the whirlwind romance shit relatively convincingly if I intended to get through this without arousing any major suspicion, but the truth was I had dessert because she’d said with a hopeful look on her face, “I’ll only have one if you do too.”

  When we were ready to go, I got to my feet and went to help her chair out, but my hand dropped too quickly and my fingers brushed over her bare arm. Her skin felt so silky under my fingers that for a fraction of a second, I forgot this was meant to be nothing more than a business deal.

  Willow caught her breath and stiffened.

  I swiftly pulled my hand away from her and stepped back. "I’ll speak to you again soon," I quickly interjected, before the tense silence grew too intense.

  She nodded and got to her feet, glancing away from me. "Yes, right, of course.”

  I made a small gesture with my palm. “Shall we?”

  She headed towards the entrance.

  Outside, in the cool night air I turned to her. “Do you need a lift home? My driver could drop you off.”

  "No. I’ll just get a taxi. Thank you for dinner."

  “Look, let my driver drop you off. I’ve got a conference call in a couple of hours, so I’m just going to go back to the office. It’s a five-minute walk.”

  She hesitated.

  “It would make me feel better knowing you will be safely taken home.”

  She sank her teeth into that plump bottom lip. “All right.”

  I led her to my car.

  Brad, my driver, jumped out of the car and held the door open for her.

  I didn’t try to touch her. I just stood back stiffly and said goodnight.

  The car pulled away, leaving me standing there in the cool night air, with nothing but the feeling of her warm, soft skin against mine for company. I shook my head with disgust with myself. What the hell was I doing?

  So, she’s a looker. So what?

  There were plenty of beautiful women in this city I could hook up with if I wanted to. No matter what kind of attraction I felt for her, nothing was going to happen. I could never jeopardize my plan because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. Grayson Inc. was far too important to me. It was what I had worked for all my life.

  I already knew I was flying pretty close to the sun as it was… coming up with this crazy scheme.

  Chapter 9

  Willow

  I swallowed and glanced at the registrar. He kept looking at me expectantly.

  I wiped my hand down the white sheath dress I was wearing. I wriggled my toes. My feet were killing me, and that was Lorraine’s fault. She insisted I buy these baby blue heels that perfectly matched the little soft blue roses in my hair. As my Maid of Honor, she insisted that looks were more important than comfort.

  I glanced at her. Clutching a bouquet of peonies, she kept watching me with a huge smile on her face. I could practically see the dollar signs pulsing in her eyes, and I reminded myself that this was why I was getting married. To make a better life for myself and for my best friend.

  That had been all that mattered from the moment Gabe came up with his crazy proposition at that fancy party. Then it was a non-stop whirlwind of activity. Gabe had said I would get the papers in a week, as it turned out I was at his attorney’s office within two days. It was a long contract, thirty pages long. They left the room so I could read it. I started reading and gave up at the second page. It was so full of jargon. I went back out and asked the attorney if he thought he had drawn up a fair agreement.

  He said he had followed Gabe’s instructions to the letter.

  That was good enough for me. I signed the papers and made our agreement a formal contract. After that, it got crazy. His super-efficient personal assistant set up a day for me to go out shopping to gather everything I might need for the lifestyle that was ahead of me, the clothes, the accessories, the makeup, the perfume, everything.

  I searched on the net to see if there was anything in the way of etiquette lessons in the city, but I didn’t find anything so I decided to just hope I didn’t do anything too spectacularly stupid.

  The hasty, simple wedding turned out to be more complicated than I could have possibly imagined. It included some fancy PR footwork of getting some “leaked” photos and stories planted in some celebrity magazines so that the press would pick up on the story and run with it.

  Which they seemed to do a lot when it came to him.

  After a while, it felt as if my life was no longer my own. I was constantly on show. I started to meet people as people. Snooty people who thought they were better than me. Gabe promised that once we got married, everything would die down and we could settle down to a more private existence.

  So here I was, standing before him in the middle of a civil ceremony pledging my life to him for a million bucks. In terms of money, it was barely a drop in the ocean to him, at least according to the estimates I’d found of his wealth online.

  He wasn’t exactly hurting for cash… let’s put it that way.

  One of his staff gave me a tour to his insanely luxurious apartment on the expensive s
ide of Chicago, and I swear my jaw was dragging on the expensive granite floor as we went from room to room. The place was amazing, huge, airy and perfectly decorated. I tried to imagine him lounging around here eating expensive fruit from glass bowls or whatever it was rich people did with their time and I couldn’t. The place looked as if it was a showroom. No one lived here.

  When I told Lorraine about it, she promised to check in often to make sure that I was still safe and comfortable where I was. I assured her there was nothing wrong with his place, that if she’d seen it she would have been clawing my eyes out to get in instead of me, but she held firm.

  It was odd to think that I wouldn’t be living with her for almost a whole year. She’d been my roommate since we’d both moved to this city around the same time and happened to pull each other in an apartment lottery.

  I smiled back at Lorraine and turned my gaze back to Gabe.

  Hopefully, I was selling my part as the blushing bride, as the registrar continued to drone through the rest of the service. I said my I do when the time was right. He looked deep into my eyes as he said the words right back to me, and I felt a twist deep in my gut. I wasn’t sure why, but something about this man committing himself to me, utterly and completely, even if it was only as part of this charade we were playing, flicked a switch inside of me.

  I’d been doing my best to hold back the raw attraction I felt for him and keep myself back from doing anything physical with him, but honestly, in that moment, I understood fully the meaning of the phrase ‘wanting to jump someone’s bones.’

  "You may now kiss the bride," the registrar announced, beaming at us.

  Gabe moved forward and brushed his lips over my cheek, at the very corner of my mouth, a kiss that looked chaste, but only if you weren’t looking too closely. Because his lips burned my skin and when he pulled back, I could feel the spot he had touched me with his lips throbbing.