Fake Fiancée, Bride Forever (Billionaires of Europe Book 8)

by Holly Rayner

  “I have no way of knowing if that’s true or not,” I point out.

  “You have to trust me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “This tax thing,” Magnus indicates the papers spread in front of us. “I didn’t want you to see it, Leah, because I knew it would upset you, that it would make you doubt everything else that’s transpired between us. But you need to understand, this is just business. Part of doing business is knowing how to spot opportunities and take advantage of them. That’s all this is. I saw an opportunity, and I went for it.”

  “You saw an opportunity, and you went for it,” I repeat numbly.

  “Exactly.” I can hear the relief in his voice, relief that he’s gotten me to understand.

  “Like you did at Vipers’ Nest,” I say. “You saw an opportunity there, too, didn’t you?”

  “Leah, no. That’s different—”

  “What’s different? You take whatever you want, don’t you? Because you’re Magnus Johansen and you ought to have whatever you want, right? You took my chance to impress the Vipers. You took your brother’s chance to run a successful business. And now you’re taking a government tax cut even though it means you have to upend my whole life to do it. You don’t care who gets hurt in the service of you getting what you want, do you, Magnus? You just see and then you take.”

  He’s staring at me, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

  “It’s just a tax break, Leah,” he says. “I don’t understand the problem.”

  “You wouldn’t, though, would you? You never think about anyone but yourself.”

  I see him flinch at my words, but it hardly matters. I didn’t say it to hurt him. I said it because it’s just now occurring to me that it’s the truth. He told me himself, didn’t he? He told me how he betrayed his brother, how he wasn’t there for his sister. How even his parents almost never get to see him. He sees what his choices are doing to his family. He just doesn’t care.

  And what about me? He was never sorry he stole my opportunity at Vipers’ Nest until he realized I could have won. It never would have occurred to him to think that for a girl like me, just making that presentation would have been a win.

  I like the thought that I could have won the whole thing, but that’s not why I went to Los Angeles five years ago. I went there to be in a room with my heroes and to tell them what I’d been working on. I wasn’t entitled to victory, but I was entitled to that presentation. Magnus shouldn’t be sorry that I didn’t win, he should be sorry that he took my chance to present in the first place.

  I can’t believe I ever thought I was in love with this man. So he took me skiing and bought me expensive wine. So what! Didn’t he tell me himself that money was nothing to him, that I shouldn’t take his expenditures very seriously? I have no one to blame but myself for not listening.

  I almost, almost tell him the wedding is off. I can taste the words in my mouth, feel how satisfying it would be to say them. But I swallow them back. I want my app to see daylight, and Magnus is my investor. All I have to do is get through the next few days. We’ll be married, I’ll have my money and Magnus will have his. I have to concede that it doesn’t feel bad at all to be taking money for my services when I know the only thing he’s getting for my services is money too.

  “It’s just business, then,” I tell him, and settle back into my seat. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what it will be. Just business.”

  Neither of us says another word the entire way home.

  Chapter 21

  Magnus

  A Week Later

  This is not the way I imagined this happening.

  I tried not to dwell on it too much, because I suspected that to Leah, at the end of the day, it really was all business. Or maybe I thought it was mostly business. Or maybe…

  I don’t know what I thought anymore, except that I definitely thought these past few weeks meant something. Something. I thought we were getting to know each other. I thought we cared for each other, at least a little. How could we have divulged all those intimate things about our lives, the stories of our families and our biggest regrets, if we meant nothing to each other at all?

  No. I’m wrong. We definitely mean something to each other. We have to. But then why does this wedding feel more like a funeral?

  Certainly, it’s not the appearance of the place. I peeked into the ballroom earlier, and it looks resplendent. The whole venue is decorated in ivory and gold, with golden flower arrangements on the center of every table. I didn’t even know there were golden flowers. I suppose that wedding planner was worth her stripes after all. I’m glad I hired her.

  I don’t know what we’re having to eat, and I haven’t seen or tasted the cake. It strikes me that at a normal wedding, under normal conditions, these are things I would know about. I would have helped to choose the band that was providing the music. I would have picked out my own tuxedo instead of just having one purchased and delivered to my house sight unseen. I would have made the guest list.

  I don’t know who made the guest list. I highly doubt it was Leah. I know my parents are here—they called to tell me they were coming—and that my siblings are not. I know that most of my colleagues and business partners are in attendance, as well as several of my competitors. Most of these people, I think, are here for the networking opportunities, not because they care that I’m getting married.

  I wonder if anyone besides my parents does care.

  I suppose Leah cares. But I haven’t seen her all day either. In fact, I haven’t seen her since our plane home from Norway landed. I would have taken her home. I was planning to take her home. But she hoisted up her suitcase as if I wasn’t there, marched away across the tarmac, and hailed a cab. And that was that.

  I hope she’s here today. This is going to be humiliating if the bride doesn’t even show up. But, I suppose, somebody would have told me by now if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

  Two thoughts strike me in quick succession.

  I really wish my brother and sister were here today.

  I really wish I could go and talk to Leah.

  I never would have imagined that I’d become this dependent on her, that I’d miss her this much when she wasn’t around. And yet, the lack of her since our vacation together has been almost physically painful.

  We’ve spoken on the phone a few times, it’s true, but it’s always been exactly what she promised it would be on the plane. Just business. She speaks to me in clipped tones now, instead of in that soft voice I’ve grown used to. She never laughs. She never sounds happy to hear from me. She’s never gentle. The way she talks to me is the same way I talk to men I’m trying to make deals with.

  And it kills me.

  I never would have believed that she could hurt me like this. Wasn’t the whole point of this arrangement that it was low risk, high reward? All right, the circumstances would have been bad if we had been caught in a fraudulent marriage, but I never believed anyone was really going to catch us. So this should have just been a very basic positive thing for both of us. Instead, I’m sitting here in a wooden chair that’s probably as old as my father, wrinkling the pants of my new tuxedo and lamenting the fact that the girl I’m about to marry doesn’t like me anymore.

  How did it come to this?

  God. I just miss her. I miss her so much. It’s a strange feeling and not a very welcome one. I’ve never had a girlfriend as an adult. I’m not used to the way she tangled herself up in my days, how every morning became about the first time I’d hear from her—would she have called by the time I got out of the shower? Would it be a text message on the way to work?—and every evening became about whether or not I would be getting together with her. On the days we didn’t see each other, I was living for the days when we would.

  What am I living for now?

  I always thought I would eventually tell Leah about the real reason we needed to get married. I never intended for it to stay a secret forever. But somehow,
the timing was never right. At least, that was what I told myself. More likely I was just being a coward, refusing the responsibility of telling her what she needed to know. Some part of me understood that if I gave her the truth, she would turn on me. And I couldn’t face that. How could I be expected to face it? I never would have imagined anything could hurt me like this.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m supposed to marry her soon. The time is ticking away on the clock in my little ready room. In five minutes, I’ve got to go out there. The whole congregation will be waiting on my vows. But how can I possibly do what I have to?

  I get to my feet and move to the ornate full-length mirror that’s been wheeled into the room for my use. I don’t even look like myself. I’m vacant and staring. I’ve been practicing looking engaged for years, standing in front of mirrors and meeting my own gaze because it’s a good listening technique. It allows people to believe you’re taking them seriously in business meetings, hearing and considering their propositions. But today my eyes are empty. Have I been walking around like this ever since my argument with Leah? Have other people noticed?

  I’m not fully dressed. Ordinarily, I would take pleasure in the little details of putting an outfit together—neatly tying the bow tie, positioning the cufflinks just so—but today I feel like I might forget them altogether if they weren’t laid out on the table for me.

  I slip my cufflinks through my buttonholes. They’re aquamarine gemstones. My birthstone. Leah picked them out, what feels now as though it was ages ago. In reality, it was just a couple of weeks, of course, but it feels like someone else’s life. Whoever went shopping with Leah that day was a different man, a kind man, a man who would never lie to her and who deserved to be in her presence.

  But I have never been that person, I remind myself, absently picking up my blue bow tie and threading it around my neck, flipping the collar of my shirt up so I can make sure the band is even and not twisted. I was never the man she thought I was, the man who wouldn’t tell her a lie. I was never the man she thought she loved.

  My fingers form the bow tie gracefully, absently. It’s something I know how to do without paying attention. Strange, isn’t it, the things I’ve learned how to do without effort? I can tie a bow tie. I can live my life of beauty and splendor and, eventually, emptiness. The things that take real effort, things like consideration of my family and the woman I love…those are the things at which I always seem to fail.

  Love. Do I really love her? Is that possible?

  And, if it’s true, how can I face her today?

  I glance at my watch. She’s probably already out there. She’s probably waiting on me, and that is not going to make her any easier to face. I’m sure she’s beautiful in her wedding gown. I’m sure she’s absolutely picturesque. But why is it that I can only picture her looking sad? Even when I thought of this wedding as completely business, something that had nothing to do with personal feelings whatsoever, I never wanted to see her sad. The idea of lovely Leah Simmonds waiting for me in a wedding dress with a tear spilling down her cheek…

  That settles it.

  I’m not going to be able to go out there. I can’t do it.

  But I have to do it, don’t I? What’s the alternative? Leaving her there alone? That’s not an option. No matter how bad things are between Leah and me at the moment, I know that leaving her at the altar will definitely make them worse. I need to get moving. I need to turn around and walk through that doorway behind me and out into the ballroom. Leah is waiting. My parents are waiting. I don’t have a choice.

  Of course, you have a choice. The voice that speaks into my head seems almost as if it belongs to Leah, and I know in a heartbeat that the words are what she would say if she knew what I was thinking. Nobody’s forcing you, are they? If you don’t want to marry me, then don’t.

  Do I want to marry her?

  I have no idea, I realize. I have no idea whether or not I see a future with Leah in the long-term. It would be crazy to put a bet on that since I’ve only known her for a little while. But the one thing I can say for sure is that I like her right now. That we’re friends. I should put my money where it’s safe. I should bet on the relationship we have right now because that’s the one that makes sense. That’s the one that functions. And that’s the one both of us really want.

  She doesn’t want to marry me either. I have to believe that.

  Except that…except that there have been so many moments. So many times when she looked at me and something more than friendship shone out of her eyes.

  There was the time at the ski lodge, of course, when she took apart the darkest parts of my history for me and rewrote them as opportunities for redemption. There were the nights we spent together, lost in each other’s bodies and in the surrounding embrace of darkness. There were the mornings we woke up together and the days seemed fresher and brighter just because she was there. The time she got me to eat a grilled cheese at a diner. The time she showed me her app and I couldn’t look away from her magnetic stage presence. The time I picked her up from where she’d fallen on the ski slope, her face still flushed with cold and excitement, and I carried her all the way back to the lodge…

  I can’t marry her.

  I can’t marry her because if I do, I’m accepting her terms. If I go out there and say the vows we agreed to take, I’m doing it with the understanding that things are business-only between us. And those are terms I can’t accept.

  I’m a businessman, and I know enough to never sign a contract until I’ve gotten everything I want and until any offending clauses and riders have been stricken from the text. I will not marry Leah Simmonds on the understanding that we’re only doing it as business partners. That’s an idea I can’t accept.

  Chapter 22

  Leah

  I’ve never really imagined a wedding for myself. Even when I fantasized about men, about boyfriends and romance, I never got as far as the wedding. Weddings have always seemed to me like something that happens in fairy tales, like something that happens to other people. But if I had envisioned a wedding, I know I wouldn’t have dreamed it would be anything like this.

  The most jarring thing, I think, is that I’m alone. I don’t know that we decided against having attendants, but we never decided to choose any.

  That’s fine with me in theory. I don’t know who I would have asked. But now that I’m here, in my little room getting ready to marry Magnus, I really wish there was someone with me. I wish Aimi was here to distract me from the thoughts that are plaguing me. I wish one of my aunts was here to nitpick at my dress so I wouldn’t be doing all the nitpicking myself. Most of all, I wish I could think about someone’s worries other than my own.

  I wish I could stop thinking about the fact that I’m about to marry Magnus Johansen.

  It’s not too late to pull out, I remind myself, knowing even as the thought passes through my head that it isn’t true. Of course it’s too late. Everyone is in the ballroom, already seated, waiting for us. Ridiculous amounts of money have been spent on this ceremony, and on the reception to follow. There are probably a dozen cameras between me and the exit to the building. I don’t have a hope of slipping out unnoticed. My only choices are to run away publicly, creating a huge scene I don’t want, or to just grit my teeth and get this over with.

  If I didn’t want to go through with it, I should have said something before now. I’ve had plenty of opportunity. Besides, there’s the money to think of. The sponsorship for my app. I want my app to succeed. It’s not even just the fact that I want to be famous and successful anymore. I know my app is good and I want it to reach the people it can help.

  But God, why did it have to happen like this?

  I haven’t been able to eat anything all day, and not just because of the overly tight dress I’ve been stuffed into. I hate this dress. I don’t know what I was thinking when I chose a huge ruffled ball gown. It’s not my style at all. There’s a platter of fruit and cheese on a table beside
the mirror, along with some bottles of water and an open bottle of champagne, and I know I’m welcome to whatever catches my eye, but I don’t want any of it. I just want to go home, let down my hair, take off this silly dress and this overdone makeup, and fall into my bed. I want to crawl under my comforter and sleep for three days.

  I draw a couple of deep breaths, steadying myself. Just a few more hours. Then I’ll be able to get away from everyone and go back home. I’ll make some tea. I’ll cuddle up with Dragon and a good book. This will all seem like a very bad dream.

  If only I had managed to make things right with Magnus! How much better everything might have been if we were on good terms today. We’d have parted last night, perhaps after enjoying our final dinner together as fiancés, both of us feeling giddy and excited about the day to come instead of dreading it. I would be able to look forward to walking into the ballroom. I would be excited to see him and excited for him to see me. And this dress, this over-the-top dress that feels like a costume, would just be fun if someone was in on the joke with me. Magnus and I would be able to laugh about it together.

  I realize with a pang that I miss his sense of humor. I miss his way of looking at the world. When he’s not busy manipulating situations for his own personal advantage, he’s actually a great person to have around.

  I would have enjoyed marrying Magnus today if I wasn’t so angry with him. I wouldn’t have minded that it wasn’t a fairy-tale wedding, because it held the potential for future romance. Because…because in spite of everything, I do love him. I love him even now.

  My feelings for Magnus haven’t gone away just because I’m angry. I resent the things he’s done to me, the positions he’s put me in, but I can’t forget about the man who cared for me in the ski lodge in Norway. I can’t forget about the man who talked so painfully about his family and the regrets he had when it came to his siblings. Those moments were real too, and they were powerful.