Fake It For Me - A Fake Wife Billionaire Romance

by Layla Valentine

  That was when the tradition popped into her head: it was bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding. In the car, her heart thundered. Why would Edmund care about bad luck? It wasn’t as if the relationship were in danger. They weren’t in a relationship. Thinking about it wasn’t helping her nerves, however, so Jada attempted to just focus on driving.

  Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the boutique bridal salon known for being best in all of San Francisco. The exterior looked small, but it was dazzling inside. Jada was again greeted with champagne, and there was even more cake, which she did not partake in. The whole place was shades of white, the dresses, the walls, the floors, the furniture. The only color that stood out in was the silver of the shiny fixtures and the green of the flower bouquets.

  An impeccably dressed older woman walked up to Jada and greeted her. “Hello, darling! You must be Jada. Lovely to meet you. I’m Tish and I’ll be your consultant today. We’ve closed off the entire store, and Mr. Hays says that money is no option, so the sky’s the limit! Now, what are you looking for? Silk, ball gown, mermaid, sequins, Vera, Pnina? Tell me, tell me your dreams.”

  The woman walked Jada to a long rack of dresses. There was every poufy style imaginable, and some that sparkled so brightly that Jada wanted to shield her eyes.

  “Well, I’m actually a pretty simple girl. Nothing too big or flouncy. I like elegance and ease.” She tried to be as honest as she could without saying that she was not excited about this and that she was in fact nauseated from the stress.

  “Ahh, I see. Perfect.”

  After about an hour of looking at nothing but fluffy, huge ball gowns, Jada was finally ready to be more direct.

  “What I like is silk, a straight line to the floor, and no sequins or jewels. Does that help?” She was getting frustrated, and it was starting to show.

  “Hmm,” Tish, self-proclaimed dress consultant extraordinaire, searched the room with her eyes. She landed on a collection of dresses near the rear corner. As Jada followed her over, she saw the lines of the dresses were much more to her liking. They were simple, classic, and involved absolutely no tulle or crinoline.

  “This is a newer designer for most people: Jenny Packham. Let me look at you again.” She grabbed Jada’s shoulders and spun her around, gazing at her form critically. “You’re a good shape for this, slender, but enough in the bust to fill out the line. Look.”

  Tish held out a gown that rolled in waves of ivory silk. Jada’s eyes were glued to the beautiful form and the exaggerated sweetheart neckline. She loved it.

  “Oh, yeah. This is gorgeous.”

  The bridal consultant smiled directly at Jada for the first time that afternoon and clapped at having finally pleased her client. Jada was led to the fitting room, and Tish passed her the gown so that she could change. The size was right even off the rack, with only the hem being a bit long. There was no mirror in the fitting space, so Jada had to step into the center of the room and up onto a small pedestal to see herself in the huge, three-section mirror set up on the far wall.

  When she stepped onto the pedestal and slowly looked up, Jada hardly recognized herself. The ivory silk draped over her skin like a glove and hugged her in all the right places. The sweetheart neckline exposed her chest and gave just the right hint at the cleavage beneath. At her feet, silk waves pooled around her and created a medium-sized train. What she hadn’t seen on the rack was the daring slit which showed her right leg up to her thigh. The allure it created was undeniable, and Jada could only stare at the gorgeous stranger staring back at her in the mirror.

  Tish walked over, a silent question in her eyes.

  “This is the one.”

  The women both smiled, and it was a done deal. Jada had chosen her wedding gown. In a flurry of toasts, measurements, veil options, and shoes, Jada’s fitting ended in a dizzying whirl. She only wished her mother would have been there. Jada sighed a little, but before Tish could grow concerned, she put her happy face back on, confirmed the billing name on the account, and assured the woman that whatever Edmund had said was correct.

  She had decided to go without a veil. She had never liked them anyway, and the dress left little room for extravagant undergarments, so Jada agreed she would not wear a bra and that a thong was the only option. She hated thongs, but when she looked at her butt in the mirror, her own undies creating lumps in the fabric, she went along with it.

  The session wrapped up and Jada got back in her car in a haze. Before she could start the engine, her cell rang. It was Edmund.

  “How did it go?” He sounded excited.

  “How’d you know I was finished?”

  “I saw the charge on my account.”

  “Stalker much. But it went fine. I found something I liked.”

  “Yeah?” The concern in his voice was odd.

  “Yes. It’s beautiful.” Jada took a deep breath. “I was about to go home.”

  “I figured. That’s actually why I called. I have something to go over with you back at the office. Could you swing by?”

  “Can I park in the special garage?” Jada teased.

  “Sure.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “All right. I guess I can make that work.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jada hung up and drove back to the office, this time turning into the private garage at the back and walking to Edmund’s private elevator. When the doors opened at his top-floor suite, Jada saw that the main space had been cleared and her boss was waiting at the side, near a stereo that definitely hadn’t been there before.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I thought we’d practice our dance.” He pushed play and music filled the space. Walking to the center of the room, he bowed and held out his hand for her to join him on the impromptu dance floor.

  “Don’t you remember what we talked about? Buffet table?”

  Edmund only clucked and walked closer to Jada. “Hence the practice for the first dance. Don’t worry; I’ll lead.”

  As Jada let herself get pulled in and the music of the waltz hummed around them, she sighed in defeat. “You’re the one who should be worried. I hope you don’t like your toes.”

  But there was no more talking. Mr. Jackson P. Hays, CEO and chairman of the board, simply took Jada’s hand and led her around the room in a whirling display of perfectly executed steps. He was really good, more so than she would have ever expected, and his arm on her back pulled her in close. Jada smelled his cologne, and the only word her brain would come up with to describe it was “yummy.” At first, her steps threatened to falter as her partner murmured out gentle instructions. Each time, however, his strong arms took her weight and kept her afloat.

  “You’re very good at this.” Jada’s voice was just above a whisper.

  “Thank you. You’re learning quickly.”

  Jada’s face got warm, and she was convinced she was blushing. The temperature in the room seemed to have shot up like a million degrees, but instead of requesting air or moving further out, Jada leaned into the embrace.

  There was no sound except for the quiet music and gentle shuffle of their steps. Edmund continued to give instructions and count out beats for her. After a few turns about the room, Jada realized he was teaching her a specific dance. She did her best to remember the steps, and after some time she picked the dance up and the instructions were no longer needed. Without words, the intensity in the room was magnified.

  Jada had felt her heartbeat quicken when she had learned she had to dance, but even once she felt more comfortable with the steps, her heart continued to thunder inside its cage. They were just so close, the two of them moving in intricate circles across the office floor. Was she simply nervous about dancing? That had to be it. Or else she was—no, she couldn’t possibly be aroused. But as the thought surfaced in her mind, her body took the initiative and responded in kind.

  It was totally inappropriate. They had agreed that this was to be strictly a business arrangemen
t, and though her boss was certainly handsome and some level of attraction was reasonable, fantasizing about his lips making their way down her neck was certainly not.

  But she couldn’t move, couldn’t pull away or stop, or think for that matter. She just let this beautiful man lead her around his office in a slow waltz while she gazed, hazy-eyed, into his baby blues.

  As they completed another take of their routine, their steps slowed. He’d ended each round with a deep dip and guided Jada back up to his face successfully each time, but this was so much longer a hold. Inexorably, Edmund pulled her back up to meet him in a standing position. His face was so close to hers, so very close. Jada saw the pink in his lips and the light stubble on his face. The moment seemed to stretch out and thicken, making the air heavy and wet. Slowly, Edmund moved his face closer to hers. Was he really going to kiss her? Would she mind?

  As the distance shrank to nothing, however, he seemed to remember himself and pulled away abruptly. Suddenly, she was standing on her own and the warm blanket of his arms was gone, replaced by the far less inviting air. Jada was momentarily breathless. This was definitely Jackson, and he was now facing away from her, his shoulders drawn tight.

  “What’s wrong?” She attempted to make her voice stern, but it sounded small to her ears.

  “Nothing. You did well. Rehearsal is over though. You can go home. I’ll see you at the ceremony.” He didn’t turn around as he addressed her.

  “I don’t—”

  “Really, it’s fine.” He looked over his shoulder, and his smile was shaky and uncertain. “Go. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Fine.”

  Jada stormed out, went through the elevators doors, and down to her car. She made the drive home in no time and was still fuming as she slammed her apartment door closed behind her. Walking straight to her bedroom, she threw her shoes into the closet, threw her purse somewhere on the floor, and threw herself right onto the bed.

  What the hell is with him?! Ugh!

  She pulled her shirt over her head and yanked the pants she was wearing off her legs as she fell backward. Her pajamas were on the floor, but she was too angry and frustrated to get them. Instead, she climbed under her blankets and shut the light off.

  Sleep never came easy when Jada was angry, and she spent a long time tossing and turning.

  As unconsciousness finally found her, Jada’s mind filled with strange dreams: terrifying hospital encounters, homeless nights spent painting for money, and intensely erotic dreams involving Jackson. Of the three, she really could of have done without the shirtless images of her employer, but they wouldn’t let up.

  In her head, the warmth of Jackson’s arms found her again, and his uncompleted kiss was finally placed on her lips. The taste and smell of him was a drug pushing her deeper and deeper into bliss. He kissed her while he walked her to his desk and shoved its contents aside. His hands roamed her flesh, and his strong fingers ripped her flimsy button-down in two. Then, he explored her with his mouth, and she was left gasping and squirming on the hard wood. In a dream blur of clothing, the two of them were naked before each other, and the Adonic form of her boss pressed into her over and over. The fuzzy details were a mess, but her brain made it plain that she was having the best sex of her life.

  It wasn’t the last dream in the lineup her brain had arranged. The entire night was plagued with hot, endless images of their two forms entwining, releasing, and crashing back together again. When the morning announced its presence via the loud alarm on her cell, Jada woke feeling both frustrated and angry. She was sure Jackson had been about to kiss her, and what was worse, she knew now that she had wanted him to. The words “business arrangement” surfaced in her mind, and Jada mentally kicked herself.

  It was all insanity from start to finish. The fact that she’d agreed to this ridiculous sham wedding, the outings where she’d desperately tried to get to know her boss and change his selfish ways, all the way down to the stupid crush she had developed. Because that was all that it was: a crush.

  Shaking off the storm, Jada got out of bed and dressed for the day. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she thought to herself, Just two days till the ceremony. Just get through these two days, make it through the wedding, and you’re done. You can do this. You have to.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next two days went by in a blur of paperwork, meetings, free lunches, and sleepless nights. But now the morning of the ceremony was here. Jada was still confused and put off by Jackson’s strange behavior. She never did let go of a grudge easily—a bad habit her mother loved to point out any chance she could. What was even stranger, however, was that at some point Jada had apparently retrieved the sketch from her desk and taken it home.

  The image of her boss was now propped up against the wall on her nightstand. It stared at her as she slept, changed, and woke in the morning. Why had she put it there? Jada had no clue. At least none that she wanted to explore further. In her mind, though, the image was a living, breathing man who acted like he had the other day and enjoyed his free time spent with her, with only her.

  It was definitely a problem.

  Back at home, relaxing in bed with blue eyes staring at her, Jada’s mind was a swimming pool of conflicting thoughts, emotions, and unacknowledged feelings. Evelyn had called the night before to let her know a limo would be waiting for her outside her apartment the next morning. Her usual tone of disgust had colored her voice even over the phone.

  Sleep had not come that night, and instead Jada lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, taking momentary breaks to stare at the sketch that haunted her bedside. The logical half of her was furious, kicking the inside of Jada’s skull in an attempt to knock some sense into her. Unfortunately, the less rational side of her was thinking of Jackson’s—or Edmund’s—words, and the way his lips had looked when they’d been so close to her face. The heat of his body, the strength of his arms, the changes she’d seen in him, and the way he’d opened up—it was all a choking mess surrounding her body.

  As morning broke and Jada dressed, the black car Evelyn had informed her about, and its French driver, arrived outside. Jada’s heart thundered, and she couldn’t tell if it was from excitement, frustration, or an imminent heart attack.

  Jada had been instructed to bring a small bag of clothes and necessities—which seemed strange considering there wasn’t going to be a honeymoon—and all her important identification information for the wedding license. The bag was easy enough to put together, but Jada really had to search for her passport, birth certificate, and proof of residence.

  The last time she’d used her passport, it had been for a girls’ weekend in Mexico with a bunch of women from the office. That trip had served to instill in her the knowledge that tequila was an evil, evil drug. God, there’d even been pictures, and her team hadn’t let her live it down for months.

  Overall, the papers and clothing all seemed like overkill, and Jada was getting more frustrated with each passing minute that she wasn’t given more information. Where was the ceremony set to take place? Why did she need these things? What was her boss up to? He hadn’t called or emailed, and, honestly, Jada was beginning to panic.

  Once she had gathered everything up, Jada stepped outside and locked her apartment door. The clack of the deadbolt securing was loud in her ears, and her fingers shook slightly. Suppressing a wave of nausea, Jada tucked her keys in her purse and put on the best game face she could manage.

  Jacques, sweet chauffeur extraordinaire, walked to her door and took her bags from her without a moment’s hesitation. His sure fingers wrapped around the handle and swept up the luggage in a bit of a flourish. He was either showing off or excited to be needed for an entire day. Poor guy needed to learn the joys of a day off spent with nothing but Netflix, sweats, and processed food.

  “I can carry that,” Jada said.

  “Nonsense. Mr. Hays is waiting in the car.” Jacques gave a little smile and walked to the car with a sli
ght spring in his step.

  Jada shook her head and walked over to the giant automobile. She opened the door for herself—thankfully Jacques had allowed her that—and scooted inside. Jackson was sitting at the front of the limo, a stack of papers exposed inside his briefcase.

  The suit he wore had clearly been made for him, and Jada wondered if that was what he was wearing to the wedding. It would certainly work, but with the dress she had picked out, she had been sure he was going to rock a tux. His hair and face were ready for the event, however. He’d had a fresh haircut, and the bit that hung in his face now did so much more artfully than it had when it’d been getting a bit shaggy. Jada decided then that she liked the shaggy look.

  He'd shaved, too. His clear skin made the stern lines of his chin and jaw stand out even more. He looked a bit menacing, to be frank, and again Jada found herself missing the less formal look he’d been sporting a few days before.

  “How are you this morning?” It was such a formal, unwelcoming greeting that Jada assumed he was deliberately trying to keep things more business-like than they had been.

  Well, two can play that game, buddy, she thought.

  “Fine.”

  Her tone was equally cold and uninterested. Jackson was about to learn that Jada played rough and took no prisoners.

  “Where are we going? I’ve yet to be informed as to the location of the meeting.” Jada crossed her arms over her chest. Jacques had started the car and was leaving her apartment’s lot.

  “First to the airport, and then to the Qaresman capital.”

  “What?!” Jada’s stomach fell through the bottom of the car and the rear tire ran right over it.

  She couldn’t possibly have heard that right. They were leaving the country—going to her mother’s country—without any type of notice or opinion from her.

  “In order to fast-track the business license, the wedding must take place on Qaresman soil,” he said coolly. He closed his briefcase and reached for a bottle of water off to the side. The car had been stocked with water, sparkling and still, champagne, some type of liquor in a crystal decanter, and a bunch of other provisions stuffed into ice. Jada wanted to scream.