Playing Pretend Box Set

by Natasha L. Black

  "When did you get such a negative view of me?" I said. "I'm doing my best here. It's not like I have much experience in this area."

  "Maybe you'll do better with your next fake wife," Kandice spat, her upper lip curling.

  I made for the door. "Drop it.”

  I was halfway down the hallway when I heard the door creak open behind me. Kandice walked along, hooking her arm through mine.

  "I'm sorry. It's just all this back and forth—it's jarring. I think we just need to stick to the basics here, to business."

  I let her words sink in, just as her scent tickled the edges of my nostrils. Even with my cock stiffening again, I managed to speak. "My thoughts exactly."

  The brunch restaurant was Maria's pick. She knew all the hotspots for food, not only because she loved going out, but also because she was usually in charge of entertaining many of the clients Bruno Inc did business with.

  This time, she chose Area 31. The name reminded me of a science fiction movie I'd seen a while back, but the inside was beautifully arranged with a variety of chic taupe decor.

  In their flowy chiffon dresses, Mama and Maria fit right in. I tugged at the collar of my shirt uncomfortably. As much as the workplace and fine dining demanded stiffly starched shirts, I didn't like them. It made me feel constricted.

  Sure enough, Mama noticed immediately. "Giovanni," she said, wrapping her arms around me in a hug before patting one of my biceps admiringly. "You need new shirts, my son."

  We all chuckled as she turned her focused, chocolate brown eyes to Kandice.

  "And this is the lovely lady," she said. "It's a pleasure."

  My heart stopped momentarily, forgetting that I hadn’t told either of them… Shit. I looked at my mother’s cautiously happy face and knew I had to do the right thing.

  “Mama, Maria… I know this is unexpected, but please. Meet my wife, Kandice.”

  Kandice did her best to fake a genuine-looking smile as they moved to shake hands, before Mama gave up halfway and threw her arms around her.

  "Wife? Giovanni, what!" Mama cried, then realizing it was too much, conceded and said, “My, Giovanni, he is a picky, secretive boy. If he likes you, you must be something special, si? Though, hopefully you are more… Aperto, no?"

  "I guess," Kandice said, chuckling, probably not knowing that aperto meant ‘open’ in Italian. I could tell her that later.

  Maria gave her a light hug, too, though her expression lacked Mama's warmth. She looked at me, over Kandice’s shoulder, her eyes shrewd. She hadn't shared Mama or Papa's enthusiasm for finding me a nice wife. She was more suspicious, knowing more of my secrets than Mama. She knew that there was probably a lot more to the story than I was telling her.

  "Can we eat?" I asked. "I'm starving."

  "Giovanni," Mama scolded me. "Okay, okay."

  As we moved into breakfast with French-press coffee and eggs benedict, conversation slid back and forth between details of the funeral to details about Kandice, herself. She performed admirably, obeying the cardinal rule when lying: tell the truth as much as possible.

  She told them about how she had moved to Shanghai with her parents, then decided to stay because she liked it so much. She told them about her beloved job as a journalist at Rayli, where she had recently been laid off for a contentious article she had published.

  "Now, that's just ridiculous," Mama said, chomping her breakfast so angrily, a few stray crumbs scattered across the table, quickly followed by Maria, deftly cleaning up the carnage with a napkin. "In the United States of America, something like that would never happen. Never."

  "I don't know about that, Mama," I said skeptically. She didn't seem to have heard me.

  "In my eyes," she told Kandice. "You are a hero for doing such a thing."

  An uncomfortable flush rose on the apexes of Kandice's cheekbones. "Really," she said. "I was just doing my job."

  "But you didn't have to do that," Maria said. "No one forced you. In fact, they punished you for it. You knew there was a possibility of that happening, and you still did it."

  "I don't know," Kandice replied. "I mean, I had an idea that things might go south, but had I known just how bad they would get—that I would get fired and..." She trailed off, obviously not wanting to mention Jin's disappearance, as well as the potential threat looming over her own head.

  I could see by the crinkle at the edges of her dark eyes, though, that what Mama and Maria said had pleased her.

  Suddenly, after taking a long, thoughtful sip of her water, she returned it to the table. "I have something to tell you," she said to them.

  My jaw dropped.

  Was this it? Now that Kandice had gotten what she wanted, gotten fed up with the situation already, she wouldn't dare sell us out. She wouldn't dare.

  17

  Kandice

  Okay, so maybe it was mean, but I was kind of enjoying this. Giovanni’s face, previously so pompously pleased with himself as if this brunch going off without a hitch was his doing, now had an expression of sheer terror.

  Finally, I put him out of his misery.

  "Meeting Giovanni was the best thing that has ever happened to me."

  As I smiled evilly at him, the embers in his eyes quickly changed from murderous to appeased, though still a bit forbidding.

  He squeezed my hand a bit too tight. "You took the words right out of my mouth, darling."

  Yep, Mr. Bruno was laying it on thick. I was surprised I hadn't had to fake much of my behavior for this breakfast.

  His mom and sister were genuinely friendly, nice people. Not at all like the suspicious and demanding family members I'd expected. I had been preparing for something like the Spanish Inquisition. The witch who was accused of having stolen their precious son. Instead, they seemed genuinely happy to meet me.

  As Maria and her mother left to go to the bathroom, Giovanni turned to me. "Thank you," he said.

  "I'm not just doing it for you," I replied. "Your mom and sister actually seem really nice."

  "They are," he said, his brows rising for a moment then lowering again. He shook his head a bit. "I shouldn't be lying to them like this, just..." A furtive smile crept over his face. "They watch soap operas a lot, you know, lovey-dovey stuff. They believe in love too much. They would only want me to wait, to find someone I love deeply—in the movie way."

  "I understand," I said. "My parents are just going to freak out that I’ve married someone so quickly, whether I love him or not. Preparation first, caution second, they’ve always said."

  "But you are going to tell them eventually, right?" Giovanni said, tension building in his jawline.

  When I said nothing, he insisted, “You are taking this seriously, aren't you?"

  "Yeah, I am," I said. "Seriously enough that I don't think my parents need to be involved."

  "Be realistic," Giovanni said brusquely. "This fake engagement, now a fake marriage, is going to have to last for years. How are you going to keep it from them for that long?"

  His words were a cold slap of reality across my face. I paused, a myriad of excuses racing through my head.

  Yeah, there is no way that is going to fly.

  "I don't know," I admitted finally. "Maybe I'm just being naïve, but for now, I'm not getting them involved. "

  Giovanni fell silent. I rose.

  On my way to the bathroom, I ran into Maria and Mrs. Bruno.

  "Now you go?" Mrs. Bruno teased. "We asked you if you wanted to come along."

  "Lay off, Mama," Maria said jokingly, ushering her away. "Maybe Kandice wants some alone time."

  I just smiled at them, the expression so frozen in place that I only remembered to relax once I'd reached the safe emptiness of the bathroom.

  Yeah, now that I thought about it, some alone time would be great.

  Giovanni was driving me nuts.

  I do virtually everything he asks, come to this stupid, stressful brunch last minute, and what does he do? Tries to make more demands on me.

&n
bsp; This was a big deal. We still had a lot of details to work through. I got it. But we’d gotten here literally last night. I hadn't had time to call friends or family, let alone process anything in between. Here he was already trying to take over and put his spin on it.

  Well, too bad for him, but there were two people in this equation, and I was not just bowing to his demands because he'd saved me and was great in bed. Not happening.

  My mind went to my parents as I looked at my reflection glumly. Everyone always told me that I had my mother's large, soulful eyes. I always saw my dad in their shape. A bit slanted in the corners, like an elongated almond. I had his long, full lashes, too. My mouth was my mom's, there was no doubt about that. My top lip, equally as full as the lower, with a defined cupid's bow that was worshipped by make-up artists everywhere.

  There was no escaping my mom and dad. They were here, even if they weren't. I always told them that I took marriage seriously, the way they'd instilled in me. They basically drilled it into my head since day one. The importance of finding the right person, giving the relationship time to germinate, like a seed.

  How was I going to break it to them that I'd married some guy I met less than a week before? Or worse, that the guy I'd chosen to be with was somebody that I didn't even consider having them meet? Even… After we’d been married.

  Yeah, there was no way to spin this that would make sense to them.

  In the sink, I ran water over my hands and cupped my palms on the back of my neck. I exhaled.

  There, better.

  It didn't really solve anything, unfortunately. It just made me feel better in the moment.

  There was really no way to make my mom or dad understand, least of all accept this. I was in no position to have the big, family-laden affair of a wedding that they'd always dreamed of for me, nor did I want to.

  Right now, the last thing I wanted to deal with were their disapproving, sure voices mixing in with the cacophony of uncertainty in my head.

  Back at our table, Mrs. Bruno and Maria were preparing to leave, thank God. Not that I hadn't enjoyed my time. I had, more than I'd expected. But there was only so much acting I could do in a day, and right now, I was mad at Giovanni and tired of pretending like I wasn't.

  "It was great meeting you," I told them as we embraced.

  "Giovanni picked himself a winner," Mrs. Bruno said with a definite nod. "Even if he didn't consult his family about it."

  Her hawk eye gaze landed on him, but Giovanni just smiled. "Oh, Mama, I knew you would approve."

  "Yeah, yeah," she said, nodding as she walked away. "You two just hold onto each other, you hear?"

  "Okay," we chorused.

  As we left the restaurant, too, I couldn't ignore how pleased Giovanni looked with himself. "What is it?" I asked.

  "Nothing," Giovanni said. "Just that I thought of an idea to cheer everyone up after Papa's funeral tomorrow."

  "Oh?" I said.

  "Don't worry," he added quickly. "You don't have to come to the funeral if you don't want to. I could see how it would be awkward for you. The important thing is, we’ve now planned a party for the following day, the day after tomorrow, to celebrate us. I told Maria and Mama that your family would be coming along, too." He said this with an infuriating level of nonchalance.

  I stopped dead on the sidewalk. "You what!"

  "I meant what I said," Giovanni shrugged. "Trust me, it's better to get it over with."

  He reached for my hand, which I quickly snatched away. "Maybe. But that is my decision to make, not yours." I strode away.

  "Where are you going?" Giovanni called after me, a condescendingly amused tone in his voice.

  "Anywhere," I snapped back. "Away."

  By now, my final paycheck would have deposited, and I probably had gotten some responses to my online job-hunting. I could go visit Jen, indulge in some retail therapy, anything. Anything but be here with that asshat Giovanni.

  18

  Giovanni

  I checked my phone before tucking it into my pocket one last time. Still no response.

  Maybe I'd acted out of bounds before, but Kandice had no right to go MIA like this.

  The party was tomorrow, for Christ’s sake!

  I forced my hands into my pockets. This wasn't the time for thinking about parties or Kandice. Now was the time to honor Papa. I stood, taking in the number of people who had come to do so.

  The graveyard’s somber stones were surrounded by even more somber people, everyone’s faces slack with loss. Our loss.

  Yes, Antonio Bruno had been a great man. The likes of which we would never see again. I had to try to be a great man too, even if I knew I’d fall short. It was up to me to continue the family legacy. For Papa.

  As everyone stood around his grave, no one ready for it to end just yet, Maria elbowed me. "Say something," she hissed.

  I frowned back at her.

  The service had been presided over by Papa's favorite priest. A few of his closest colleagues had also said some words. Some had asked me whether I was making a speech during the receiving line, since I was his son, after all. But with Mama and Maria each saying their piece, and all of Papa's close friends and associates wanting their turn, too, there simply hadn't been time.

  But now...

  I saw some people shooting me looks out of the corners of their eyes, too. I strained my mind. What would Papa have wanted?

  The answer came to me with a gust of cool wind, carrying leaves and particles on its path. He would have wanted me to say something.

  Pointlessly, just then I wished that Kandice was by my side. Something about her challenging smile would have given me reassurance. That whatever I did say, good or bad, would be enough.

  She hadn’t shown up, and I didn't blame her. As soon as she'd stormed off, I realized that I had crossed the line. Hell, I'd crossed the line several times by that point. I didn't know what it was about Kandice and her defiant independence, but it made me lose my head. Made me want to control her even more.

  Which was exactly the thing that pissed her off the most.

  She didn’t see that I was trying to protect her, to get to know her, not… Hurt her.

  Anyway, here I went.

  "Papa would have been proud to see you all here," I said. "Proud to count himself among such men and women. That was one thing Papa always said to me. ‘Be careful, boy, about the people you surround yourself with. You’ll become them’."

  A sad smile curled at my lips.

  Was I taking his advice with Kandice? I shook the thought out of my head. If only I could shake away this loss, this pain…

  "A few days ago, the world lost a great man. A man of business, a kind philanthropist, a devoted father, and husband. A paragon.” Standing there in the soggy dirt, I realized I had no words for what he meant to me. What he means to me. I looked up at the sky and took a deep breath, “I don't have the words to describe what it's like to have had a father that believed in me enough at fourteen, to bring me into his beloved business and let me discover my talents. What it feels like, after you've failed your third math test in a row, to have your dad tell you to screw it all. To point to your work and tell you that the world isn't about figures and numbers, that it's about making what you see in your mind a reality in the real world. Letting nothing stop you. Not grades, not other people’s expectations and limitations—nothing.” My gaze went to the tombstone that would forever mark my father’s supposed memory, then back to the crowd.

  “That is the legacy Antonio Francesco Bruno left with me. He showed me how he made the ideas in his head—sheer impossibilities in many cases—real, actual realities. He showed me that we could defy what competitors, the press, and his own colleagues in some cases predicted: failure. We avoided their efforts to take down his business. We denied their attempts to try and ruin his name. Because my father was an inventor, an honest, intelligent man and most of all, a fighter, I hope if you remember Papa for anything, it's that. That he did things n
o one thought possible."

  I could feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes, but I held them back.

  Never let them see you cry, boy. That had been another one of Papa's gruff pieces of advice. Truly, I'd only ever seen him cry once.

  "I'll miss you, Papa," I told the grey, rumbling sky as it shed its own tears. "We all will."

  As I finished my speech, my eyes fell on a woman at the edge of the crowd, who I'd only just noticed.

  Kandice.

  The service ended, my address having created a much-needed sense of finality. Everyone dispersed, the crowd slowly breaking apart, the black clothing, umbrellas, and hats shuffling toward the waiting cars. I made my way over to her.

  "You came," I said.

  "I did," she replied simply, her eyes furtive as if still unsure about the decision.

  "About before—" I began.

  "Kandice!" My mother called, walking our way, Maria in tow. "It's so great to see you, even under these unfortunate circumstances."

  Her eyes were watery, still brimming with tears as she leaned into us, placing her arms around us both, her short frame making her feel childlike.

  Kandice shot me a challenging look. I knew exactly what it meant. It reflected the churning in my gut that reminded me I couldn't tell the truth, not now, not with Mama having accepted us. It said what I already knew.

  I'd gotten myself into this mess, and it seemed there was no easy way out of it. Learning the truth would break my mother's heart.

  No, we had to make this work.

  When everyone left, Kandice and I stood alone in the cemetery. I took her hand and we walked toward my car.

  "I can’t… I have to go," she said. "I just thought it was wrong, not to come. Not for the show aspect, but because he was your dad."

  "Thank you," I said. "For ‘not for the show aspect.’"

  Kandice made a skeptical noise.

  "What do you mean by that sound, Kandice?" I asked, her name falling softly from my lips.