Fake Bride Wanted - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (Billionaires of Europe Book 1)

by Holly Rayner

  Julian nods. “He proposed with the ruby. He won the honor of marrying her, and that wasn’t all. He also was granted knighthood after the king heard about all that he had done. That was the beginning of my family's noble lineage.”

  Julian turns his beer, pointing to the elaborate logo. “That’s why the hawks feature our crest—to symbolize his spirit and victory. And this tree, with the red droplets on it? That symbolizes the ruby. It was once said that rubies grew on trees, ripening like fruit.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I say. “I never noticed the tree before.”

  “It’s my favorite part of the image. I love the idea of rubies ripening on trees. Such abundance!”

  “What happened to it?” I ask. “You said you’re searching for it.”

  Julian, who has been smiling as he points out the hidden symbolism on his family crest, now frowns.

  “It was lost. Shortly after the French Revolution, the ruby disappears from all of our family records. Up until then, it was passed down from generation to generation—always to the eldest son. Traditionally, what I gather is that it was used as a means of proposal…as a way of remembering the power of love between the first Meijers to be bonded with the ring.”

  “And it just…disappeared?”

  Julian nods. “But…” he says, perking up now. “I spent months searching for it, and I’ve finally had success. I found the location of the ring!”

  “That’s amazing!” I’m so invested in his story now that I feel my eyes grow wide with excitement, too. “Your family will be so happy!”

  “My grandfather especially. He turned ninety just a few days ago, actually, and made it clear that he hoped one of his grandchildren would find the ring while he’s still around to see it.”

  “You’ll make him so proud!” I exclaim.

  “I hope so.” Julian is still frowning.

  “What is it?” I ask “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to have it back in your possession?”

  Julian lifts his beer and chugs some of it down, tipping the bottle back to catch the last drops. I wonder if he’s bracing himself for something that he has to say. But what could it be? What could have him—the king of confidence—nervous?

  He sets the bottle down resolutely and squares his shoulders.

  “I don’t have the ring in my possession. And I won’t. Not until I can prove that I’m going to use the ring to propose. It’s all written out in the previous owner’s will.”

  “Well, then,” I say. “I guess it’s going to have to wait. You just told me that you were absolutely, completely single. Didn’t you?”

  “It can’t wait, Shelby,” Julian says intently. “My grandfather deserves to see that ring before he dies. Plus, Fleur is after it, too. If I sit on this, she’ll find it before long. She’ll swoop in and claim it, and I’ll be left watching from the sidelines.”

  “Fleur!” I say. I haven’t thought about Julian’s too-cool-for-school cousin in years. “How is she these days?”

  “Oh, she’s all right. Not too happy about my success with the brewery—you remember how competitive she was.”

  “Right.” I slump back into my chair. “But there’s nothing you can do about it. If you’re not planning on getting engaged, there’s no way you can rush the thing and get the ring sooner rather than later.”

  “That would seem to be the position I’m in…” Julian hedges.

  What is he getting at?

  He continues, a mischievous glint now in his eye. “However…you know how I’ve always had a good imagination?”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I shoot back.

  “Well, I was in a meeting in The Hague, and a lawyer was reading me the will. And suddenly I had an idea. What if I do propose to someone?”

  “I don’t get it,” I say. “You’re not even seeing anyone, Julian.”

  Julian looks away sheepishly, just like he used to do in school when he was embarrassed to tell me about a failing grade.

  “What did you do?” I ask.

  My voice has a scolding tone, and I have to remind myself that no matter how well I used to know this man, that’s changed now. We’re not two teens on a tennis court, arguing over English essays. He’s a billionaire CEO, and I’m a woman he hasn’t seen in years.

  “I told a little white lie,” Julian says, holding up two fingers an inch apart.

  “To the lawyers?” I arch my eyebrows.

  He nods.

  “Julian!”

  “I had to!” he protests.

  “No, you did not. You chose to.”

  “Okay, I chose to. I want that ring. Who knows what Fleur will do with it! She might lie to get her hands on it, too! And once she has it, she’ll marry some random guy and pass it along to who knows who! Better that I have ownership, so that I can keep it in the family and pass it down to the next Meijer. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

  I sigh. On one hand, I can see his point. The ring is rich with family heritage and he wants to keep it within the Meijer clan. I can’t exactly blame him. But…

  “Julian, how are you going to get yourself out of this? The lawyers are probably going to make you prove that you’re going to use the ring to get engaged. They can’t just take your word for it.”

  “You’re right. They asked to meet my girlfriend.”

  “Meet her?! She doesn’t even exist! What are you going to do?”

  Julian gives me a funny look. “That’s where, hopefully, you…come in?” The sentence turns to a question.

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” He scoots forward on his seat and leans over the table. “It would only be one interview. We’d say that we’re a couple, and I’ll stage a proposal. Then, the ring will be on loan to me until we officially marry. Once we tie the knot on paper, the ring is mine. We can file for a divorce. The whole thing would only take a couple of months, and it would be over before you know it.”

  “A fake proposal? A fake marriage? Are you out of your mind? Why would I agree to a scam like that? You’re completely dishonoring the entire institution of marriage! It’s a sacred—”

  “Five hundred thousand dollars,” Julian says.

  I stop talking.

  I close my mouth.

  My pulse is hammering in my temples.

  Did he just say what I think he said?

  In case I missed it the first time, he repeats himself. “Half a million dollars, Shelby. That’s what I’ll give you, once the deal is done.”

  My mouth is dry. Now, it’s my turn to lift my bottle and drink as though I just crossed the Sahara. I let the last drops of my beer slide down my parched throat.

  Half a million dollars.

  I could have my life back. I could buy my mother a place and stop stressing over paying both her rent and mine. Maybe, for once, I could hire nursing help and take my weekends off.

  Free time. Walks in the park. Reading for pleasure. I could join that tennis league that meets on Saturdays!

  “You’re considering it, aren’t you?” Julian guesses.

  I keep my face neutral, not wanting to let on just how right he is.

  “Think about it. One little interview. A bit of paperwork. And then a big, fat paycheck.”

  Some paperwork. Does Julian really see a marriage as ‘a bit of paperwork’? His words ring in my ears.

  My blood pressure starts to rise.

  “I’ve been thinking about it since I saw you,” Julian says. “I mean, it’s perfect. I need a fake girlfriend, and poof! Here you are. I knew that I had to ask you. I just didn’t know how.”

  Is that why he invited me out to drinks? To propose a plan that’s better suited to a two-bit con artist than my dear, sweet, long-lost friend? Really?

  I feel anger flowering in the pit of my stomach.

  It’s red hot.

  How dare he? Here I am, thinking that he’s into me…attracted to me…wanting me. Here I am, wanting him. Imagining his lips on mine.

  I thought we were both re
membering how wonderful it was to be together. I thought he was falling back into the magic of us, just like I was. And yet, the whole time, he’s just been building up to his big ask?

  I want to bolt. I want to swoop up my purse, storm out of the bar, and hail the first cab I see.

  There’s only one thing keeping me in my seat.

  Dollars.

  Five hundred thousand of them.

  Freedom. That could buy my freedom. More importantly, it would help my mother.

  I swallow. I’m stuck. I would be crazy to turn this down. I have to say yes.

  Only moments ago, I told Julian that he always had a choice. But now, in this moment, I feel that choice has been robbed from me. It was robbed years ago, when my mother was diagnosed with the disease that’s dogged her body since.

  I have no choice. “Okay,” I mumble.

  “What?” Julian says.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “You will?” Julian looks incredulous. “I thought you might say no. You’ve always been so moral. But this will be painless, Shelbs, you’ll see. We’re not hurting anyone. It’s nothing to worry about. Plus, we’ll get to spend more time together.”

  He stands up. “Come here,” he says.

  I stand, too. He steps forward and wraps me in a hug.

  I know that he’s only happy because he’s about to get his hands on a valuable family heirloom, but for a moment, I let myself imagine that he’s simply happy to be hugging me.

  I can feel his muscles bulge as he tightens his hold around me. I feel his chin rest against my hair. I breathe in and smell him. Not just his aftershave this time, but him. I can barely believe that I actually remember that smell.

  Our bodies are pressed together. I wait for him to release me, but he doesn’t. I fall deeper into his embrace.

  “It will be fun,” he says, and I can feel his breath move my hair as he talks.

  Then, too soon, he releases me.

  He steps away.

  “How about lunch tomorrow? I’ll have my lawyers draw up a contract, and we can go over the details.”

  My head feels fuzzy. I can’t think straight. In addition to the brain-dead state that I apparently always slip into when wrapped up in Julian’s strong arms, I’m also two beers deep and jet-lagged. Is this really happening?

  I feel myself nodding. “Lunch would be good,” I say.

  My flight isn’t until tomorrow evening, so that will give me plenty of time to get to the airport. I wonder if he’ll arrange to have the bankers and lawyers meet us right after lunch, to meet me. Probably. Julian seems very eager to get his hands on this ruby.

  “Will you be at HQ?” Julian asks. “You could come up to my office.”

  I lean down and fumble in my purse until I find my phone. I pull up the emailed itinerary of meetings that I have scheduled for the next day.

  “Yeah. I have meetings starting at eight, through until four. I have an hour for lunch at one.”

  “An early start,” Julian says. “Should we head out of here? I bet you could use a hot shower and a comfy bed. Where are you staying?”

  I feel offended, like he’s rushing the evening now that he’s gotten what he wants. At the same time, I am tired. And the idea of a shower and bed sounds thoroughly delightful.

  I search through my emails until I find my hotel confirmation. “The Jager,” I say.

  I gather my purse and follow Julian back up the dark stairs.

  We emerge into the alleyway, and it’s much darker now than when we went in. A lone streetlight emits faint light, which reflects off of the puddles. We weave our way between them and make it back to the rundown parking lot. I see now that this lot is filled with other high-end makes and models of cars. Further observation leads me to spotting the guard’s booth tucked away into one corner. No wonder the fancy cars are safe—they’re protected by a security guard.

  “Clever,” I say, pointing to the guard.

  “Pretty low-key, isn’t it?” Julian asks with a wink. “No one ever guesses what’s down that alley. You had no idea, right?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  This is the truth, in more ways than one. When we parked here earlier in the evening, I had no clue that I’d be emerging with a proposal on the horizon—and half a million dollars on its way.

  Julian unlocks the car and reaches for his messenger bag from the back seat. “We better catch a cab,” he says, pulling out the bag and looping it over his shoulder. “I’ll pick up my car in the morning. The Jager’s just down the road a few blocks, and my place is past that.”

  We start walking past the parking lot, to the city street beyond it. Julian hails a cab and we each get in.

  I’m quiet, watching the sights of Amsterdam nightlife fly by. It’s nearing nine, and storefronts, restaurants, and bars are lit up beautifully. Whereas my hometown of Springfield would be winding down around now, this city seems to be coming to life.

  A few blocks pass and the cab slows down, pulling to the side of the road. I glance upwards and see a sign on the building we’re parked in front of: the Jager. I guess it really is close to the speakeasy.

  I place my hand on the door handle, and am about to open it, when Julian says, “Wait.”

  I turn to him. What now? I can only handle so many life-changing schemes in one night.

  “There’s something I want to say.”

  Julian has a quick word with the driver, asking him to hang tight for a moment while we talk. The man nods.

  Oh, boy. This is something important.

  I remove my hand from the door and settle back into my seat. “What?” I ask.

  He shifts so that he’s facing me. “Remember that fall dance, right before you left Paris for good?”

  Do I remember? Of course I remember. He went with Catarina Alfonsi. I stayed home and cried. At the time, I didn’t understand my grief. I remember wondering why I was so upset and scolding myself for it.

  “I think so,” I say, underplaying my recollection. “You went with a girl named Catarina, right?”

  “Catarina Alfonsi.” Julian says. “You and I never talked about it, afterwards. But I remember thinking that I hurt your feelings…somehow.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “I was just fifteen. You were my best friend. I guess I felt left out.”

  “We were best friends, weren’t we?” Julian asks. He smiles at me. “We never really said it in so many words, but it’s so obvious, looking back on it. We used to have such a good time, when we were together. The days seemed to fly by.”

  He exhales and shakes his head. “I don’t know why I went with Catarina. I should have invited you. I was an idiot.”

  I should have invited you? What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Is that what you wanted to tell me?” I ask.

  He nods. “I know it sounds silly. But I thought about it a lot after you moved back to the States. I always wished I could apologize to you. I even wrote it down in a couple of letters, but I never worked up the nerve to send them. I convinced myself that it would be better to say in person.” He shrugs. “So now…I’m telling you.”

  “Thanks.” I put my hand back on the door and push it open. I really have no idea what to make of all of this.

  “See you tomorrow?” he asks as I’m scooting out of the cab.

  “Yeah.”

  “One o’clock. My office. I’ll have Max escort you up; just meet him in the lobby where you checked in for yesterday’s meeting. Sound good?”

  “Perfect.”

  I close the door and watch as the cab pulls away. I catch sight of Julian’s face. He’s facing towards me, and his head keeps turning as the cab drives, until he’s looking backwards. Then, the cab turns the corner, and he’s out of sight.

  And I can breathe again. I think.

  I try to compose myself as I head into the hotel lobby to check in, but it’s hard to do. My head is spinning with all that’s just happened. He said I was beautiful. He said he should have taken me t
o the dance…not Catarina! Oh, how I wish I could tell my fifteen-year-old self about this evening.

  Before I can get too excited, the rest of the evening crashes into place, like a boulder juddering to a stop.

  I’ve just agreed to fake marry Julian Meijer—my first love! We’re going to lie and cheat our way through a proposal, and then an official marriage!

  What on earth am I thinking?

  Chapter 6

  Julian

  At five past one, I hear a knock on my door.

  “Come in!” I call from my desk.

  Max steps in. Today, his spiky mohawk has blue tips.

  “Boss, I’ve got Shelby Bright here to see you.”

  Shelby enters after Max.

  I swear, the sight of her actually takes my breath away. When did she get to be so stunning?

  As far as fake fiancées go, I could do a whole lot worse than Shelby. She’s dressed in form-fitting black pants, a flowery, feminine blouse, and a blazer. Her hair is pulled back, which accentuates her stunning, big eyes and model-like cheekbones. I’ve become utterly distracted by her presence, but I feel Max hesitating, waiting for my orders.

  “Uh…thanks, Max. Hey, man, sorry about not getting back to you earlier. I had an urgent meeting with my personal lawyer. Couldn’t put it off. Did you figure everything out?”

  “No problem. I put one of our marketing guys in touch with product design—I think it’s all sorted.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Need me to stay? Take notes or something?” Max looks between Shelby and me.

  “Nope, we’re good.”

  “All right. Holler if I can do anything. I’ll be down at shipping for next few hours but I can hustle back here anytime.”

  As soon as Max closes the door, I feel the energy in the room change. It’s as though Shelby and I were two kids in a clubhouse, waiting for the adults to leave. I feel both of us exhale.

  “I met with my lawyer,” I say, gesturing to the stack of papers on my desk. “We’ve got a contract all lined up.”

  “That was fast,” Shelby says. She takes a seat, holding her purse on her lap. She’s avoiding my eyes. “Are you sure that you want to do this, Julian?”

  “I’m sure. How are you feeling about it?”