Billionaire's Fake Fiancee

by Eva Luxe

  “And he paid for my groceries,” I said, ignoring her question.

  “He did what?” she asked.

  “I left my damn purse in the car, and the cashier was giving me a hard time. He turned around and handed the woman his card to pay for my groceries.”

  “Oh, shit. Is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot.”

  “Why does that matter?” I asked.

  “Because it just does,” she said. “What does he look like?”

  I groaned as I turned onto the road that led to my hotel.

  “Kami, he’s fucking gorgeous,” I said, sighing.

  “Oh, yes! Details. All the details.”

  “He’s tall and very muscular. But it’s a lean kind of muscle. He’s not bulky, like a bodybuilder. And his eyes. They’re this blue. Like sapphire. Or aquamarine. Or a cross between the two. And Kami? He’s got tattoos.”

  “Oh, hell. You’re a sucker for tattoos.”

  “He’s got tattoos coursing down his arms,” I said.

  “Which means he’s probably got them underneath as well.”

  “I can hear your grin.”

  She laughed. “Good, because I want you to. Look, what’s so bad about getting close to him? You gotta figure out what the hell’s going on, and he’s obviously into you.”

  “Paying for my groceries means he’s attracted to me?” I asked.

  “Was he eyeballing you?”

  I stayed silent as I pulled into the parking lot of my hotel.

  “You’re a private investigator,” Kami said. “So, investigate. What were his reactions?”

  “Yes, he was checking me out. He licked his lips when he saw me in the aisle, and he tried to help me out to my car with my groceries.”

  “Damn. Okay. So, you get close to him. He gets comfortable around you. You get the information you want. Maybe you get a bit of dick in the process—”

  “No way,” I said. “That’s completely unprofessional.”

  “Fine. You get the dirt on him, you relay it to your boss, you close up the case while you’re there, and then you get some dick.”

  “And when am I supposed to paint you this picture you asked for?”

  “Woman, your life’s a mess,” she said. “One step at a time. You have a prime opportunity here. Don’t ruin it.”

  “This is a horrible idea. I’m not doing that to him. I can do my job just as well from a—”

  A knock at the window startled me in my seat, making me jump. I whipped my head sideways, and my heart leapt to my throat.

  “Paige? Paige, what’s wrong? Are you back at your hotel yet?”

  “I’m gonna have to call you back,” I said.

  “Paige, what the fuck’s going on?” Kami asked.

  “Nothing bad. Just hold on.”

  I hung up the phone and dropped it into my lap before I rolled down my car window. I stared at the man from the grocery store. The man with the aquamarine eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. The man with the tight-ass shirt and tattoos cascading down his arm. The man with the cheeky little grin on his face and the hair that hung down perfectly against his forehead.

  The man I was supposed to be surveilling.

  “You forgot to tell me your name,” he said.

  “So you followed me?” I asked.

  “You left in quite a hurry.”

  “But you followed me.”

  “You left this behind.”

  He held up my purse, and I felt my face pale. I craned my neck to look in my backseat, my hand pushing things off to the side to try and find it. That wasn’t my purse, was it? I couldn’t have been that stupid. Not while I was on a case. Not while I was trying to track down a thief.

  But I had been. I had been that careless.

  “Shit,” I said breathlessly.

  “A ‘thank you’ will be just fine.”

  I shot him a look as the grin on his face grew.

  “I’m Zach,” he said.

  I know.

  “Paige,” I said, nodding. “And thank you. For getting this back to me.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t mind that I followed you after you realized why.”

  “Yeah,” I said, grinning. “I don’t mind.”

  “So, you’re from out of town?” he asked.

  “Just passing through,” I said.

  Now I’ll have to find a different fucking hotel to stay in.

  “Where you from?” he asked.

  “Here and there.”

  “Ah. A nomad. I can get behind that.”

  “I’m sure you can,” I said.

  “Well, Paige the Nomad. I was wondering if you would let me take you to dinner tonight.”

  “Actually, I can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Then possibly tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “We’ll have to see. I’m not in a random town in Oregon for pleasure purposes.”

  “So, you’re here for work,” he said.

  Damn it. What the fuck?

  Digging through my purse, I pulled out my wallet. I rifled through some money and counted out sixty dollars before I handed it to Zach. His beautiful eyes looked down at my hand before he took a step back, prompting me to get out of the car so I could shove the money at him.

  “Take it,” I said. “I don’t like owing anyone.”

  Then, when he didn’t take the money, I balled it up, grabbed his hand, and placed it into his palm.

  “Again, thank you for paying for the groceries. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “I’m not,” he said plainly.

  I sighed before I got back into my car and cranked it up.

  “I thought this was your hotel?” he asked.

  “Forgot to run an errand. And I’ve got my purse now, so don’t feel like you have to follow me just to pay for my things.”

  His eyes connected with mine, and I had to bite my tongue in order to keep my mouth shut. He was the epitome of gorgeous. Every single thing I’d ever physically wanted in a man. My tits popped to life behind my bra, and my pelvis grew hot. Shit, this was going to be a hard case, especially since this asshole had already seen me up close and personal.

  I was inches away from blowing this entire thing out of the water.

  Without another word, I rolled up my window and backed out of the parking lot. I circled the block and took in the city, finding myself another hotel to check into.

  I was relieved when I saw Zach was gone, his bike nowhere to be seen as I pulled back into the parking lot. Without turning off my car, I went to my room and gathered my things before I checked out. I could no longer stay here now that he had followed me back to it.

  The last thing I needed was him randomly waiting for me outside.

  I checked into a new hotel four blocks down the road and got settled in. I dropped my things and put the groceries away, then sat down at the desk in the room to work. I spread out all the files Mr. Kent had given me in the manila envelope, as well as the few new files I’d added to the mixture.

  Then, I took Zach’s picture and tacked it up to the wall.

  He was a beautiful man indeed, but until I knew otherwise, he was wanted for theft, and I couldn’t forget that. I opened up my laptop and got to work, rifling through some things I already had pulled up. I had his driver’s license and his DMV records, along with his current and past employment records.

  He worked at a lumber company in town and had been there for the past seven years. Before that, he had worked at the grocery store I had just come from— for seven years as well— and that thought made me giggle. A massive, tattooed man scanning groceries and bagging them up was a funny little mental image.

  But he didn’t always live in Brookings apparently. He was born in Seattle, and he’d moved to Brookings when he was fourteen years old.

  Interesting.

  I was still having issues unsealing a couple of files I should’ve been able to get my hands on easily. I was running into dead ends when trying to pull up certain documents, and
my connection at the police station back in Seattle told me I’d have to go through an entire chain of bullshit paperwork to unseal some of these documents. I couldn’t pull up his birth certificate, where he went to school in Seattle, his current social security card, none of it.

  It was like Zach Harte didn’t exist until he turned eighteen. I was staring at a rental agreement in Brookings that confirmed he and a woman by the name of Melissa Harte rented out a home in Brookings for five years, but that was it.

  I assumed the woman was his mother, but that was all I had.

  None of it was relevant, of course. As far as thieves went, they always worked their way up. A cyber thief didn’t start out with cyber theft. There was always an escalation. A couple misdemeanors as an adolescent, maybe one major arrest for theft in the teenage years. Just like any other skill, theft was practiced and perfected before they went in for the big score.

  And Zach didn’t have any blemishes on his record.

  Other than the fucking sealed documents I couldn’t get past, he was a squeaky clean, tattooed man in Brookings working at a lumber company.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” I said to myself, sighing. “He doesn’t fit the standard.”

  I looked back up at his picture on the wall and frowned. My gut kept churning, screaming at me that something wasn’t fitting into its socket. I kept going back over the conversation I had with Mr. Kent, rolling around everything he had told me. A ding from my laptop pulled me from my thoughts, and I navigated over to my email to check it.

  It was the finance office of Kent Enterprises, sending me another document that showed an unauthorized withdrawal of four hundred dollars.

  But I’d just seen Zach thirty minutes ago.

  So, I got back onto my software and started trying to figure out where he lived now. I needed to know how far away from the hotel he lived because something was seriously not adding up.

  Chapter 11- Zach

  I turned my fucking computer off and stormed out of my chair. All of this was bullshit, and I needed to go for a ride. I could feel my heart rate skyrocketing as my blood pumped through my veins. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I needed to figure out why this had started and why this was going on.

  But I knew I wasn’t going to figure it out until I calmed down.

  Tossing my leather jacket over my shoulders, I grabbed my helmet and headed for my bike. Onyx was sitting there for me, shining in the sunlight. If she had a face, I knew she’d be smiling at the view she had of the water.

  I threw my leg over my bike and started her up. Her engine revved beautifully for me, and I smiled at the sound. A nice drive up the coast would do wonders for me. There was a seafood place just before the Washington State border that had the best soft shell crab sandwiches in the state.

  It was near my mother’s gravesite, and I figured I could pay her another visit.

  The wind ripped past my body as I drove up the coastline. The ocean was beautiful this time of year, especially since it wasn’t riddled with tourists. The sand was undisturbed, and the waters weren’t filled with screeching children. The water crashed upon some of the jagged rocks that peppered the coastline.

  Those were my favorite places to sit. I felt helpless on those rocks. Helpless to the fury of the ocean as it crashed along the jagged edges. I loved the way the water washed over my body and drenched my clothes. I loved the way it curled around my form just before the water broke and soaked me to the bone.

  My mom used to stand with me on the rocks, and we’d laugh our asses off as we got soaking wet.

  I came upon an accident on the road, and it stopped me in my tracks. The traffic was moving at a snail’s pace, and the longer I sat there, the darker it became. This was my day off, and I wasn’t about to spend it sitting in fucking traffic trying to go get a sandwich. This drive was supposed to clear my head, and the only thing it was doing was adding to my stress levels.

  So, I turned myself back around and cruised back up the coastline.

  I drove through town, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to eat. My nerves were shot, and I knew cooking wasn’t on the table. If I went back to my cabin without something to eat, I’d end up ordering a pizza, and the grease alone would make me feel gross for the next couple of days.

  If there was one thing my mother ingrained into me, it was a natural appreciation for one’s body. She taught me that there was nothing we did or ingested that didn’t have some sort of impact on us. She cooked fresh whenever she could, and when we ate out she showed me how we could still eat well. She taught me to stay away from fast food joints whenever possible, and she showed me the importance of a gym.

  The gym helped her to relieve the stress she was under as a single mother running from the situation my father put us in. She worked two jobs, raised me, and shoved her love life under the rug to make sure she was doing right by me. The gym was the only thing that kept her sane. It kept her afloat when she felt the world was caving in around her.

  I should’ve known something was wrong when she stopped going.

  Nothing in town seemed to strike up my appetite, though, and I was getting pissed. This head-cooling drive was quickly turning into a massive bust, and as I rounded the corner, I was ready to start home. I could just order a pizza and pile the vegetables on it to make myself feel less guilty. All I wanted to do was get out from underneath the eyes of this town and get back to the solitude that was my cabin.

  Then I saw a car on the side of the road.

  The tire was obviously flat, and the young woman was bent over trying to figure it out. I saw the trunk opened and in disarray, the tire iron and random lug nuts scattered on the ground. The woman was struggling to crank the jack in order to get the tire suspended into the air, so I decided to pull over and see if I could offer my help.

  Then, the pile of blonde hair looked up at me with those dark green eyes.

  “Well, hello again,” I said.

  It looked like my luck was about to turn around.

  “Hi,” she said, sighing.

  “Need help?” I asked.

  “I think I’ve got it.”

  It was obvious she didn’t. I was thankful for the opportunity to see her again. There was something that drew me to her. Her body called to mine. Her ass was jutted into the air as she grunted, her entire body heaving as she cranked the jack that started hoisting the car into the air.

  “You sure you’ve got that planted in the right spot?” I asked.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, grunting.

  She gave the joist another crank, and that was when the car creaked.

  “Look, I get that you don’t need help, but I’m going to help you anyway. If that jack isn’t positioned correctly, you’re gonna have bigger problems than a flat tire.”

  She glared up at me before she relented. I watched her get up and dust her knees off as I took her in one last time. Her curves were sensual, primal in a way I hadn’t found in this town yet. My cock throbbed for her underneath my jeans as I got down onto my knees, releasing the car and letting it sit back down onto the ground. I got up underneath the car and repositioned things before I cranked it up into the air. Then I got to work on switching out the bad tire with the spare.

  “You keep a full spare in your trunk,” I said.

  “Doughnut tires are shit,” she said.

  “I take it you’ve worked with them before?”

  “Yep. Blew a tire when I was seventeen, put the doughnut one on, and blew it two miles later.”

  “Bad luck,” I said.

  “Shitty tire.”

  “That, too.”

  I slid the bad tire off and rolled the good one over to me. Within ten minutes, I had the new tire on the car and was piling everything back into her trunk. She was being clipped with me, but I could tell she was quirky from the way she held herself and the way she spoke with confidence. She bucked up to me like she was six-foot-two and three hundred pounds. Except she couldn’t
have been more than five-foot-four and one hundred and sixty pounds.

  Maybe.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Again.”

  “No problem. A lone woman in a strange city can get herself into trouble if she’s not careful.”

  “Who says I’m alone?” she asked.

  “You mean you’re with some shitty dude who hasn’t accompanied you anywhere in Brookings yet?” I asked.

  “Why’s it gotta be a man?”

  “You mean you’re with some shitty woman who hasn’t accompanied you anywhere in Brookings yet?”

  She shook her head before a small giggle fell from her lips. The sound was radiant. Like sunshine piercing through the dark clouds of a thunderstorm. Her deep, dark eyes flickered with a bit of light as her smile crossed her cheeks, and I found myself captivated by it.

  “Maybe I’m just by myself,” she said. “An independent woman who knows how to kick your ass twelve different ways without touching the knife in my pocket.”

  “Those exist?” I asked.

  “They do! They stuff their face with cinnamon rolls, walk with their heads held high, and say ‘fuck you’ to heels.”

  “Not a fan of heels?”

  “I don’t own a damn pair.”

  “I don’t blame you. They’re uncomfortable.”

  That smile lit her face and she giggled again, but this time, she seemed a little more relaxed. She had a quirky sense of humor, but I enjoyed that. She could hold her own in a conversation, and not many women could do that. My eyes scanned her body and took in her skinny jeans and her ballet flats. She was the opposite of all the women I’d ever come across in the bars I hit with Caden, and it was refreshing.

  “Are you sure I can’t take you to dinner?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Dinner. On me. Anywhere you’d like. Or I could take you somewhere where all the locals go to get the best food.”

  “Ah, the places that are never advertised?” she asked. “Did I mention the knife I have in my pocket?”

  “The knife in your left back pocket? Yes.”

  Her stare morphed from playful to serious, and I knew I’d stuck my foot in my mouth.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “I didn’t mean to make you—”