Dirty Fake Fiancé

by Sky Corgan

  “I know that my living situation bothers you," I say once Adele has left, and Danny and I are alone in his office. "I know that this is some sort of charity. But you need to realize that this is me—who I am—your poor girlfriend, and you’re going to have to accept it.” I sigh, avoiding his gaze.

  “I have a position in a new company that I don't have the time to run, and I want you to be a part of it,” he tells me firmly. “I know you’re so fucking stubborn, and you have your pride, but please don’t knock whatever position Adele offers you. I'm sure she'll work hard to find something perfect for you. You'll hurt her feelings if you decline.”

  I give him a weak smile. When he puts it that way, it's impossible to say no. “Fine," I surrender. "You know, I never thought about doing anything but cleaning floors or waitressing. Doing something like this will give me the chance to do something with my life.”

  He hands me a drink and kisses me on the cheek, his face lighting up from his triumph.

  “Are you not having anything?”

  “I don’t feel like it.” He moves my hair to the side. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?”

  I sip on my glass of wine and then put it down and face him. “You tell me every single day.”

  “But do you know that you are beautiful?”

  I sigh, predicting what's coming next. He always says something super sweet before he launches into a serious conversation.

  “I have something to tell you. Don’t get mad. I just want you to hear me out,” he begins.

  “Okay.”

  “Your mom was doing pretty bad. No money. It was kind of sad. I don’t blame you for leaving her. You thought about Scott and your well-being, or maybe it was just all about Scott. I hate that you were forced into making that decision.”

  I take a deep breath, feeling guilty that I haven’t thought of her once. Just the same way that she never thought about Scott or me when she constantly kept trying to drink herself into an early grave.

  “Anyway, I put her in rehab. I know that you’re probably going to be angry with me, but if the worst happened to her, believe me, you couldn’t deal with the guilt. I have the money, and it’s no big deal to me.”

  I nod, finding myself speechless. When did he do it? What did he expect me to say?

  "Are you mad at me?" he asks, cowering slightly.

  "No," I reply softly, grateful that he's such a caring guy.

  He moves a bit closer, his eyes growing hooded. “Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”

  I smile, immediately cueing in on what he wants. “I think that you’ll appreciate what I have underneath my dress.”

  He gets up and shuts the door. “You love my office, don’t you?”

  “I’m just in love with you, Danny.”

  I find him hypnotized as I stand and slowly take off my dress, revealing the red number that Adele helped me pick out last week after we had lunch together.

  “Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to come and enjoy my new lingerie?”

  He winks. “I want to admire you for a little while before I unwrap you like a present. You’re so beautiful that I can’t help but love you more and more every day.”

  Danny slowly walks over to me and takes me in his arms. I can’t believe that he’s everything that I’ve ever wanted in a man, and he’s all mine. The girl that cleans floors fell in love with a billionaire. It sounds like some fairytale, but in my case, it’s reality, and I love it.

  EPILOGUE

  LENKA

  ONE YEAR LATER

  I can’t believe how much my life has changed in such a short span of time. Mom’s come out of rehab a different woman. We never moved back in with her. I found it too hard to let bygones be bygones.

  As for work, it’s been more difficult than I thought it would be gaining respect. Once everyone found out that I was Danny’s girlfriend, they felt that's the only reason I got the job, which wasn't exactly a lie. It used to get to me, but then I realized that I don't need their approval. I'm going to stay in the job because of my hard work and determination, not just because I’m Danny’s girlfriend.

  I started going to college to improve myself. I love the way that Danny respects my decision to study and work.

  Scott and I moved from our one bedroom apartment into a two bedroom apartment in a better neighborhood. That seems to have pleased Danny, and we don't argue about my living accommodations anymore.

  “What are you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?” Danny growls as he pulls me back to bed.

  “That I should be getting to work.”

  He smirks. “That you should be staying in bed with me.”

  I shake my head. “No, I need to get to work.”

  “On a Saturday?” Danny says teasingly.

  “I have stuff to take care of at the office.” I smile, thinking of how he used to say the same thing to me.

  “I know. I just want to enjoy you in bed.”

  I laugh. “You enjoy me in bed, in your office and..”

  “I get the message.” He stretches across the bed like a cat to pull me in, but I’m too fast for him. For as much as he's trying to tempt me, I can't get distracted.

  I don't really want to go into the office, but Adele said it's important. I was supposed to spend the weekend in bed with Danny. That was our plan. Just him and me.

  Scott’s been spending more time with Mom. He stays with her on the weekends and comes home on Monday. I feel bad that I'm rarely home during the week.

  “You okay?” Danny asks.

  I shake my thoughts of being a bad sister away. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

  We dress in silence, and I sense that there’s something on Danny's mind.

  “So, what’s up?” I ask him in the elevator since his silence is killing me.

  “If you're going to work, then I might as well, too.” He takes my hand and kisses it gently. “What time do you think you’ll be finished?”

  “Maybe three hours or so.”

  He nods.

  As we sit in the limo, it’s the same routine. Danny gets on his laptop and starts pouring through emails. I just look out the window wondering why Adele called me in. I hated the idea of asking because she made it sound so urgent.

  Henry lets us out in front of the building, and Danny and I walk inside holding hands.

  "Ladies first." Danny gestures to the elevator as it opens.

  I step inside, and we ride it up to our floor. He's acting strange today, and I can't figure out why. When the elevator door opens, I notice that it's eerily silent. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around.

  “That’s weird, I’m sure that Adele said at least by ten everyone should be here,” I mumble, more to myself than to him.

  I carry on walking like a child that’s lost in a department store, unsure where to go next. Do I go left? Do I call? What the hell do I do?

  That’s when I turn around, about to ask Danny if this was all part of some plan he made up, and he’s on one knee with a box in his hand.

  “Will you, Lenka Antonovich, be my lawfully married wife?”

  I walk up to him, thinking that he’s given me so much. I know that he loves me. I know that he wants to be with me for now. But forever?

  “Danny, are you sure?” My eyes glisten.

  “I can’t think of anyone that I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His words are soft as he says, “Ever since I hired you, I’ve turned into a changed man, one that I can’t recognize at times. But I do know one thing. I want you, and I hope that you feel the same way about me?”

  I hold his hand and smile. “Yes, I’ll be your wife.”

  That’s when everyone comes out of their hiding places. Mom, Scott, Adele and their parents. The whole of my team’s here, and so is Bryony. The people that I want in my life and have helped me grow start to congratulate me as Danny wraps me in his arms. I hold onto him so tightly. I love him, not only for now but for always, and I can’t believe
that he’s mine.

  DirtyPromotion

  CHAPTER ONE

  “There he is,” my co-workers say in hushed whispers.

  Not to me. No one ever talks to me. I have no friends here. They're a hard commodity to come by when you seem strange to everyone. I try not to let it bother me because friends don't matter here. This job does. It's all that matters—all that I need to focus on when I'm at work.

  Of course, I know who they're talking about. Mister Xander Sanderlin, CEO of Checkmarks Scholarly, is walking the building for the first time since he took over the company three months ago. I've been working here for a little over six months, but I was out sick the last time he came around. Not that it matters.

  He's handsome, no doubt, but I'm not the type of girl to make a fuss over a good-looking man. I'm not clamoring to get a closer look like my co-workers. They gawk at him from afar as if he's some kind of anomaly to them. I see their rosy cheeks and can only imagine the dirty fantasies going through their heads—the sinful thoughts of the modern woman. To me, he's just my boss, the face I've seen on the wall in the hallway hundreds of times made flesh. And beyond being my boss, he's just a man. There's no point in treating him any differently besides giving him the respect he deserves for heading the amazing company we work for.

  I may be the only woman in the lunchroom not staring at him longingly—not imagining what it would be like to have him as my husband. I doubt that's all they're thinking about, but that's as far as I'd let my fantasies go.

  I'm a devout Christian, many would say fanatically so. I've done my best to keep pure in all regards to honor my Amish heritage. Though my mother was excommunicated for having me out of wedlock, we still try to stay true to as many traditions as possible, which is a lot easier said than done in our predicament.

  All the other women in the room are staring at Xander Sanderlin and his wealthy colleagues as they sit together several tables away. It baffles me why they didn't go out for lunch. I can only imagine that he must want some attention. Vanity is a sin, a derivative of pride. I've heard it's not the only sin that Xander Sanderlin is guilty of. But I have more important things to worry about than his wrong-doings. What he does is none of my business as long as he keeps me in his employment.

  While I stare at my sandwich, my appetite wanes as I think about my future—or lack thereof. On most days, I try to be positive—to see all the good in my life—the things I should be grateful for. An image of my mother in her hospital bed flashes through my mind. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, whispering to myself, “You have a good, stable job. You have a roof over your head. You have Dorothy and Ruby to help take care of Mom. God has a plan for you. He would never give you more than you can handle. Everything is as he wants it to be. Everything has a reason.”

  By the time I open my eyes, I feel better. Faith will get me through another day, as it has so many. I just need to put myself in God's hands, and he'll take care of the rest.

  And I need to eat my sandwich. I'm blessed to be able to afford this food, and I shouldn't let it go to waste.

  Lunch is over faster than I like, and it's back to the production floor. I grade tests for a living. It's not an exciting job; not particularly difficult either. Most of the work is processed by computers. I just check the marks that the computer can't decipher; figure out if the kid bubbled in A or B when they scribble outside the lines. It's a far cry from the manual labor I feel like I should be doing to keep more in line with my religious background, but jobs are hard to come by, and it pays a decent wage. I'm also next in line to be promoted to manager of my department, but only because my current manager is about to retire and no one else wants the position because the hours are crazy long. All-in-all, I can't complain. It's the first job I've ever had with potential for growth. Before this, I worked for a small ranch tending to the animals and helping in the garden, but the pay was minimum wage and the hours were spotty. As soon as my mother fell ill, I knew I needed more than what they were willing to provide.

  Ruby applied me for this job without my knowledge or consent. As soon as the call came in for the interview, she did her best to convince me that I needed to set aside my beliefs long enough to pay off my mother's medical bills and help with the expenses of housing. We share a small two-bedroom apartment with two other women, and with my mother out of commission, I needed to pull the financial weight of two people. There seemed like no other choice at the time, so I sucked up my distress and went in for the interview. Thankfully, no experience was required. I was brought on almost immediately, and the rest is history.

  The job is miles away from what I'm used to, but I can't say I don't enjoy it. Sitting in front of a computer all day is a lot easier on my body than cleaning stables and pulling weeds. Originally, I had thought that when my mother got better, I would return to manual labor, but with a promotion looming on the horizon, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. This promotion could change my life. This job has changed my life. And if everything happens for a reason...then maybe this is what God wants for me.

  Mister Sanderlin walks the floor while we work. He strolls through production with several other men in suits, taking leisurely steps and pausing every now and then to talk amongst them. They stop at my desk, and when I glance over my shoulder, dark green eyes are staring straight down at me. I give my best polite smile before returning my gaze to my monitor. My cheeks flame unbidden as I think again about that framed picture of his visage in the hallway and realize it doesn't do him justice.

  I see it now—what the other women have seen all this time but I've somehow missed. Worse than that, I feel it. The first tremor of something forbidden.

  I can't look at him again. My fingers tremble slightly as I try to concentrate on what I'm doing. It's an A. It's definitely an A. I take a deep breath and nod to myself before selecting the correct answer and moving on to the next.

  I don't understand what's going on. Looking at a man has never made me feel this way before. There was so much power behind his eyes. In the confident way that he stands in his fitted suit with his hands tucked into the pockets. It's odd how in a fraction of a second you can commit so much to memory. His perfectly carved jawline. The five o'clock shadow of dark hair that made him look just off-kilter of pristine.

  “Wow. Just wow. He even made Miss Goody Two Shoes fluster,” one of my female co-workers pokes at me.

  I do my best to ignore her, refusing to admit the truth—that I felt something when I looked into that man's eyes. Something that I can't wait to forget about.

  I'm haunted for the next several hours. Every time I close my eyes, I see Xander Sanderlin staring down at me. His deep voice is silently beckoning. I squirm in my seat, feeling the darkest parts of me awaken. Then I open my eyes, and I see nothing but the screen in front of me and the task at hand.

  This will be gone by tomorrow. You just need to let it fade.

  “Christiana.” My manager has to repeat my name twice before I finally respond to it.

  “Hm? Oh, yes sir?” I look over at him.

  “Mister Sanderlin has asked to see you in his office.” He's still holding the desk phone receiver in his hand as if he's just as shocked to be delivering the news to me as I am to be receiving it.

  “Me?” I point to myself stupidly. It's not like there's another Christiana on the entire production floor.

  Does Mister Sanderlin even have an office here? I think to myself before my manager offers to escort me.

  “I wonder what he wants,” I say absentmindedly as we take the elevator up to a floor I've never been on before.

  “I don't know.”

  There's a hallway lined with offices. We stop at the very end. There's no placard on the door to indicate who is inside, but when my manager knocks, the question is quickly answered.

  The door opens, and everything I felt earlier that I tried to stifle down is brought back to the surface. I can barely meet Xander's gaze before he thanks my manager for bringing me and then d
ismisses him back to the production floor.

  “Come in.” He holds the door open for me.

  I clasp my hands in front of me, taking apprehensive steps into the massive office that's empty of everything except for a desk and a few chairs. It's obvious that this is a spare office. There are no pictures on the walls. No papers on the desk to make it look used. There's not even a computer. The plainness of it should make me feel right at home. But instead, it just makes me feel vulnerable.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I trail him with my eyes as he rounds the desk to sit.

  “No.” He gives me a grin that can only be described as wolfish. “Sit.”

  I do as I'm told, my gaze immediately falling to my hands as I begin to fidget. Just being here with him is so intimidating, and I don't even know why.

  “Do I make you nervous?” His voice is like dark silk, so deep and smooth.

  “No,” I respond automatically, though I know it's a lie.

  He chuckles. “I think I do make you nervous.”

  “What's this about?” I force myself to look at him and then immediately regret it.

  While he may intimidate me, the feeling definitely isn't reciprocated. He stares at me as if he could devour me whole. What's that look he's giving me? It's not professional. At least, I don't think it is. It seems like something else entirely. Something I saw when I was a teenager selling bread on the street one day when my mother was ill. These men grabbed me and pulled me into an alley. I'll never forget the way they looked at me as they spoke vile things.

  I was lucky then. There had been a cop just around the corner who came to my aid. I have a pretty good idea of what would have happened if he hadn't been there. But God was by my side that day. He saw fit to send me a protector.