Single Daddy's Valentine: (A Small Town Fake Fiancee Romance)

by Amanda Horton

  Sympathy and understanding flitted across his face but mostly anger for what she suffered because of the bastard.

  “Diggs is back. He appeared at the café a few days ago. I was shocked to find him there. He said that he was out on parole and wanted to know about our child. But I know he came to find out if I had money to give to him. I couldn’t say no because I was afraid he would cause trouble.”

  Hunter’s face turned dark with rage.

  “And he knows about my problem with Immigration. I lied to him but it won’t take much for him to find out the truth.”

  Talking was painful. Noelle sobbed just thinking about her problems.

  Hunter looked at her with confusion.

  “What exactly is the problem with Immigration?” Hunter asked earnestly.

  Noelle sobbed even harder.

  “Mom never meant to stay permanently in America after she brought me here from Italy. That was all she ever talked about. She just never made it back there. She never filed any papers about my citizenship. I don’t have a birth certificate. The café is under her name. But now that she’s gone, my permit to operate a business cannot be granted because I’m not an American citizen. It’s all so complicated. I’ll lose everything that I’ve worked for all my life,” she cried.

  “Hush, it’s alright. I’ll help you. I have powerful friends. I won’t let you lose anything you’ve worked hard for. I promise, Noelle.”

  She found the reassurance very comforting. She believed him. It was like a heavy burden was lifted from her chest. She didn’t know how Hunter could possibly help but if he did, she would be indebted to him forever.

  “Alright,” she replied tremulously.

  Suddenly, a phone rang somewhere inside the house.

  “That’s my private line,” Hunter announced with a frown.

  Who would be calling at such an early hour? It had to be important. Very few people knew the number. He left her and went to take the call.

  Alone, Noelle cleaned up. Keeping no secrets definitely worked. She was back to being excited to spend the day with him. Diggs and his threat were never really far from her mind, but telling Hunter her story made her breathe easier. She had the entire day to look forward to.

  But first, she had to make that call to Miranda. Nikko always wanted to visit the zoo. Miranda could take him. That would surely make him forget that he hadn't seen his mom since yesterday.

  ***

  When Hunter reappeared, he looked perturbed and agitated. But he managed a relaxed smile when he saw her. Noelle saw the look and wondered.

  “Take a shower with me?” he asked.

  Curiosity fled her mind in a snap. Everything that happened during and after the shower was exactly how she expected it to be.

  Lying spent in her arms, he suddenly asked: "Would you like a tour of the house?"

  It was the last activity Noelle was interested in doing, unless he planned to make love to her in every room. She knew there had to be nearly a dozen. She repeated the thought to him.

  "You'll be the death of me, woman," Hunter replied in mock anger.

  She giggled then remembered. “I have nothing to wear except your shirt.”

  “I think I have that covered,” Hunter replied leaving suddenly.

  He reappeared with shopping bags in his hands.

  Noelle looked at him in wonder.

  "Thomas." He said simply. "I gave him a call and asked him to do some shopping."

  “Is he still here?” Noelle asked, eager to thank the personal shopper.

  “I highly doubt that. Here, try these on.”

  To Noelle’s delight, Thomas Gaye not only got her size right, but he had good taste too. There were ladies shorts, pants, and tops. He even had the foresight to include a pair of undies and a brassiere.

  During the tour of the house, Noelle realized that Hunter’s home was not only magnificent, but it was sprawling too.

  “Exactly how rich are you again?” Noelle asked sassily, having lost track of the number of rooms in the house.

  She only came to realize that he even had his own private chef when they returned to a lunch spread out in the patio. No wonder he didn’t know how to cook. He didn’t have to.

  Time went by so fast that Noelle hardly noticed. When she looked out the window, the sky was a dazzling shade of purple and pink against an orange sun descending slowly in the horizon.

  Hunter was standing by the window looking out into the sea. Noelle thought he was acting strangely again, often with an introspective look on his face, giving her glances when he thought she wasn't looking. She attributed it to being tired after all the sex they had.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" she approached and asked softly. She stood behind him and crossed her arms against around his waist.

  He shook his head and turned to face her. He pulled her close and whispered, "Would you like to take a walk with me by the beach? The sunsets here are really spectacular."

  Noelle nodded with enthusiasm. Nothing could be more romantic than to cap her day with a stroll down the shore. She was elated when he removed his shoes and intended to walk barefoot in the sand. She did the same.

  She was pensive because she had to leave him soon. This was a day she would never forget but she didn’t have a clue what would happen after. Hunter too seemed to be lost in his own world. The wind was gentle and the light waves that swirled around their toes erased the footprints they left behind.

  They ended right back at the beachfront of his house where Noelle noticed a white blanket spread out on the sand. There was a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket and two flutes beside it. A dainty napkin covered a tray of Hors d’Oeuvres.

  Noelle was curious about the people he employed. They had to be the most discreet team or were really just ghosts because she hadn’t seen a soul since she arrived.

  Hunter sat on the sand with Noelle beside him. He still had that strange look on his face, like he was anxious or about to tell her some bad news. It struck her that he was worried about telling her to go.

  Even if the idea of leaving tonight made her sad, Noelle wanted to reassure him. She was fine with everything that happened between them. She had no expectations. She would even settle with being friends if that was all he could offer.

  She looked at him earnestly and said, “Hunter, there’s nothing to worry about. Everything that happened between us today…I’m okay with it. It doesn’t have to happen again and we don’t ever have to talk about it.”

  An expression like she just wounded him crossed his face.

  “Noelle, everything that happened between us meant something to me…” his voice trailed off.

  Noelle was elated. So the feeling was mutual. But why did he look so anxious? Hunter seemed to be struggling with something. Then he gazed at her and took her hand.

  "Remember I said I wanted no secrets between us?"

  Noelle nodded.

  He took a deep breath before proceeding.

  “The call you heard this morning was from James Powell. Remember him from last night?”

  She remembered the imposing black man and nodded.

  "You know, he heads the council that has been giving me a tough time about getting a nomination ticket in their party. Those guys have been making a huge fuss about me being single and therefore not credible for the office of Senator. Well, those crafty idiots also know that I have no immediate plans of getting married anytime soon. James knows that I am just as stubborn as those old farts."

  Noelle listened and wondered where this was all going.

  “Well, guess what? James and I had a long talk this morning. It seems his admiration for you goes beyond just your beauty and brains. He basically spelled it out that they will give me a ticket tomorrow if I wanted it. But I have to do this one thing.”

  “What?” Noelle asked.

  “He wants me to ask for your hand in marriage.”

  “What?” Noelle recoiled in shock.

  “I know. I
told him he was crazy. But he was adamant… said that my public persona would increase tenfold. Having a wife would make my image sweeter to the voting public.”

  Noelle was so stunned that she couldn’t say a word.

  "I know you're probably shocked out of your mind. I was just as shocked when he said it this morning. But think about it. When you shared your problems with me, I promised I would help you. I still didn't know how this morning, but I said I would. Now it all makes sense. If you marry me, all your problems about your alien status will be resolved. You need not lose the café.”

  Despite the rioting thoughts in her mind, Noelle realized that to be true.

  “And more importantly, I can get the nomination I desperately want. I can help you. You can help me, too. Call it a marriage of convenience, if we need to put a tag to it. Please, Noelle, say yes?"

  Noelle felt her spirit detach from her body and hover above their heads, similar to an out-of-body experience. She noted these two people talking while seated in the sand. She saw the need in Hunter’s face to become a senator, just as she saw her own need to keep her store and her son safe. It was so clear in her mind, as clear as the assuredness that what she felt for Hunter transcended the bounds of friendship.

  She was in love with him.

  It wasn’t important what he truly felt about her. She would never deprive him of the chance to follow a dream. She would give him anything he wanted.

  It was through this dreamlike state that she heard herself say, “Yes, I will marry you."

  Chapter 10

  In a seedy side of South Bronx, NYC, decrepit and broken-down warehouses lined an alley. Like feeble sentries of a bygone era, these once majestic depots have surrendered to the rigors of time and weather, with broken glass windows resembling the toothless smile of a septuagenarian. A lone light post cast a weak glow over the narrow alley. But even the reduced lighting couldn’t hide the debris that lined the narrow passageway. Garbage vats lay strewn all over the narrow cobblestone as rats scurried in and out of open bins in search of food scraps. Stench of vermin death and decay reeked, causing unsuspecting passersby to move on in haste.

  One particular building had its aluminum door pried open. Dents indicating forced entry were visible against the doorjamb, even as the rusted handlebar wobbled from a loosened screw against the dented door.

  A rickety stairway led to the second floor landing of the structure where floorboards rotted in several places. Rat droppings lay visible everywhere, even as cockroaches scampered about and scavenged among the dried dung.

  A slight breeze blew against a tattered curtain hanging by a glass pane. Remnants of flattened glass sticking out from the sidings posed danger to the unwary.

  A hunched figure limped towards the couch in painful measured steps. Any sudden movement triggered paroxysm of pain from broken ribs. His entire body pulsated with pain. Reaching the sofa, he sat down slowly, wincing at the pain it made. Rummaged athletic bandage covered each finger of his left hand. He tried flexing his fingers to gauge the damage on the muscles and was instantly rewarded by a stab of pain that reached all the way to his elbow.

  “Fuck…” Diggs Romero grimaced.

  This dump had been his refuge for the last twenty-four hours. It was a stupid decision to show up at his old neighborhood, homage to his ego that assumed that people still feared the young punk from years ago.

  Any other sane person would steer clear of the neighborhood where he once made headlines for almost killing a young woman, an old girlfriend whose family hounded him relentlessly in court until he landed in jail.

  Things were initially fine in the old neighborhood, with former gang mates giving him high-fives and slapping his back in welcome. The five-hundred dollars he obtained from Noelle provided the cans of beer and the pizza for his homecoming, providing him with the bragging rights to monopolize the entire night with stories of his prison escapades.

  But Diggs failed to remember that in the ‘hood, news traveled fast. After the party, on his way to the nearest bus stop, a figure approached and dropped a sack over his head. Then he was dragged quickly and taken to a dark corner where four other individuals waited. They took turns beating and punching Diggs until he dropped to the ground like an empty bag of potatoes.

  “That’s for Sheila, asshole. The next time you show your ugly mug around here is when you die.”

  A heavy kick to the groin followed the pronouncement. He then lost consciousness. When he came to, he was alone in the dark corner. He slowly stood, shaking from the ground and staggered, barely regaining his balance and tried to walk back to the street where he was targeted. Fear tore at him, but the place looked deserted.

  Diggs decided against going back to his apartment, knowing that that was not a good idea. The bruises on his body would be a dead giveaway. Someone may think of calling his parole officer, and then shit would hit the fan, that was for sure.

  It was then that he spotted the buildings a block away. He gathered whatever strength he had and hobbled his way down the sidewalk. He passed a dump, spotted the crowbar and the bandages, and picked both items from the trash.

  It took a few attempts before he found this particular structure. The door gave way instantly, indicating that hobos used the place for shelter. It didn’t matter. He would burrow his broken body here in this dump and wait until he felt better.

  He had all the time in the world. A bottle of whiskey lay discarded on its side and he picked it up and savored the few drops that remained. A half-smoked cigarette was among the treasures he also found and yesterday’s tabloid that was rolled and stuck into the side of the chesterfield.

  Diggs slowly unrolled the newspaper, not really intent on reading. He was never that kind of dude. But the front page immediately grabbed his attention. He lifted the sheet closer to the window.

  It was her, Diggs was certain. She looked different, sure. And the photograph was a bit grainy.

  But he recognized at once that it was Noelle’s face on the newspaper with some guy he didn’t recognize. Despite the gloom, he managed to read the short article. He put the paper down slowly. He was perplexed and baffled by what he had just read.

  Noelle was seeing some fancy guy named Hunter Blackwell. The write-up called him a billionaire businessman.

  “Holy fuck…”

  An idea began to form in his head. Despite the pain, he couldn’t help the malevolent leer that appeared on his face. His life had just taken a turn for the better, despite all the beating that he had just taken. But he had to think things through and plan his next move.

  Folding the tabloid carefully into a square, he pocketed it and stretched his body down onto the dirty sofa.

  Noelle was his meal ticket now. If he played his cards right, he need not worry about getting a job. Money would never pose a problem again. Fuck. He deserved a better life anyway.

  Chapter 11

  For the second time since Hunter arrived in her life, Noelle Mancini once again stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was tempted to ask her glam squad how they managed to pull this magical creature out of the hat.

  Getting to a significant day like her wedding was like going through a meat grinder. Noelle recognized the fact that Hunter was wealthy. She would soon find out exactly how affluent the man was as he would shortly be walking down the aisle by her side.

  If a man’s bank account was measured by the prominent names that made it to the guest list, Hunter was certainly at the top of the heap. Noelle was blown away by the names on the guest list that composed of the crème dela crème and top elite figures in New York City. Political figures from the Mayor, Lieutenant Governor, and Attorney General, down to the comptroller were invited. The state senate and the state assembly alone composed nearly a hundred members. Then there were names that Noelle only read about in Forbes Magazine. Movie stars, models and other members of the performing arts composed the rest of the inventory in their wedding guest list.

  Noelle doubted that she n
eeded both hands to count the number of people she actually knew.

  The cast and crew that needed to make the wedding happen were staggering as well. There were wedding planners who had to set their egos aside to work together to come up with a lavish single idea. Wedding music was to be provided by a string quartet at the cathedral and a 24-piece orchestra at the party venue.

  The Plaza Hotel, as the venue, was chosen for a sentimental reason. It was where they had their first dance.

  Then there were the flowers that would adorn both the church and The Met ballroom. They had to be flown in from Amsterdam by cargo plane. The caterers outdid themselves in presenting various menu lists with food items and names that Noelle could hardly pronounce.

  Oftentimes, she felt like running for the hills screaming. Hunter had the good sense of sending over Lisa, his personal secretary, who arrived with her own retinue of minions. When Noelle was swamped with requests for approval, she would look at Lisa with panic-stricken eyes. Lisa would shoo everyone away, talk to her about what she wanted, and take over the mob.

  What Noelle wanted and what Hunter needed were two different things. If Noelle had her way, it would have been a simple private affair with just her, Nikko and Miranda. But Hunter was not just anybody. He was trying to win in public office. That meant that this wedding had to be as well-publicized as a Broadway play.

  Noelle understood the need.

  All these were the consequences of agreeing to marry him that night at the beach. What began as recognition of her true feelings for him resulted in the bedlam that followed after the announcement came out.

  The betrothal was featured in the society pages of The New York Times. The announcement stirred media interest about the unknown girl who managed to capture the heart of one of America’s most eligible billionaire bachelors, and would-be senator. The date of the wedding was eagerly anticipated.

  James Powell was true to his word. All the obstacles that Hunter initially faced simply faded away. The upcoming wedding announcement even bolstered media mileage for the political party that once told him that he wasn’t a suitable candidate.