Dirty Fake Fiancé

by Sky Corgan

  For a moment, I thought about going back to my movie, but he had surely heard me walk up. Begrudgingly, I slid the chain lock out of place and then unbolted the door, opening it up to him.

  “Hey you,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “What's up?”

  Jack looked down at my pajamas. “I thought you'd be out with your friends.”

  Then why'd you bother coming over? “It's movie night.”

  “Oh. What are you watching?”

  “Warm Bodies.”

  “The zombie movie?”

  “Yup.”

  “I haven't seen it yet.”

  “Oh.” The mood was awkward. What did he want?

  “So, are you watching it with friends?”

  “Nope. I'm home alone. Plans fell through this evening, so I got stuck with me, myself, and I,” I said finally, trying to cover up my earlier lie.

  “Care for some company?”

  “Sure.” How could I say no after he drove all the way to my apartment?

  I opened the door wider, allowing Jack to come inside. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the décor. All the stuff on the walls belonged to Mandy, paintings of dude ranches that her grandmother had done before she passed away. I moved around too much to bother putting out my own things.

  Our apartment was small but liveable. It felt strange having mulitbillionaire Jack Kemble walking around inside, not that he hadn't been anywhere smaller or worse. I had learned that by traveling with him. Jack was always a humble guest, grateful to anyone who hosted him, though I never wondered about how genuine he was until now.

  “It's not much,” I felt obligated to say.

  “It's fine,” Jack replied. “Are you going to give me the grand tour or do I wander around aimlessly on my own?”

  I closed the door behind him. “There's not much to see. Obviously, this is the living room.” I gestured toward the television. “The kitchen is over there. And our bedrooms are down the hall.”

  “Mind showing me your room?”

  I wanted to ask why, but instead I just nodded, allowing him to follow me to my room. The inside was less than impressive. There was a twin bed pushed back against the wall, an end table beside that, and a small desk with my old beat up laptop. As with the rest of the apartment, the walls were bare of my things.

  “You're not much into decorating, are you?” Jack commented.

  “Nope. Anything you see on the walls or cabinets belongs to Mandy. I usually don't settle enough in one place to make it worth putting my things out.”

  “That's rather sad.”

  I shrugged. “If you say so. I prefer to call it being prepared for the worst.”

  “You have such a negative outlook on everything.”

  “I'm a realist, and reality usually isn't good.”

  I turned to go back out into the hallway, but he blocked my path. There was something different about him tonight. The air felt heavy suddenly, almost palpable. Jack's blue eyes bore down into me, as unmoving as his body.

  “Let's go watch the movie,” I said, staring straight through him as if he wasn't even there. Jack lifted a hand to caress my face, sending a shiver of electricity throughout my body. Why was he touching me? Why was he so close? “What are you doing?” I asked. My mind told me to move away, but my body wouldn't let me. There were so many strange changes these past weeks. Jack hadn't been sleeping with the girls in the office; his mood had been off, and now this. I wasn't sure what to make of it all. He leaned down, and I knew in that moment Jack meant to kiss me. Without a second thought, my hand came up to rest on his firm chest, my face turning so that he'd miss the mark. “What are you doing?” I asked again, only moments before Jack's mouth would have made contact with my lips.

  “I need to know something,” he whispered.

  “What's that?”

  “What only kissing you will tell me.”

  “What could a kiss possibly tell you?”

  “Everything.”

  Before I had a chance to respond, Jack's hand gripped me gently under the chin, redirecting my mouth. My heart drummed in my ears as our lips met. His moved softly against mine, cautiously . . . but I was so shocked that all I could do was stand there, unsure of whether I should reciprocate or not—of whether I wanted to reciprocate or not.

  Jack closed his eyes, seeming to savor the feel of my lips. I kept my eyes wide open, watching him the entire time. When Jack finally pulled away, I was at a loss for words. The way he looked at me was different than before. Then, as if nothing had happened, he said, “Let's go watch the movie.”

  Not knowing what to say, I followed Jack out of my room and down the hall to the living room, sitting beside him and taking the remote in hand. For a moment, I thought about asking if he wanted me to restart the movie so he could see it from the beginning, but then I realized I wanted him out of my apartment as quickly as possible. I needed to sort out what had just happened.

  We watched the movie in silence. Or rather, Jack watched the movie in silence. My mind wouldn't shut up, my body super sensitive to everything around me. He was sitting so close our legs were touching—closer than necessary. I licked my lips, and I tasted him on them. Mmm the taste of Jack Kemble. It was then I realized my stress wasn't just from the strange event that had occurred, but also from my own sexual frustration. Jack Kemble was sitting beside me, gorgeous and willing. He had made the first move. Now the ball was in my court. If I wanted him, I could have him. All it would take would be for me to lean over and return the affection he had tried to bestow on me. Within minutes, we could be in the bedroom, his fit body moving on top of mine, taking me to places I hadn't been to in so long. There was no question I desired him. But the consequences of those desires were too much to bear. I couldn't risk it—couldn't risk everything for one night of pleasure.

  By the time the movie ended, I was completely numb. My body was on overdrive with lust, and it was taking everything in me to still it. Why was this man sitting beside me so tempting?

  “That was an interesting movie,” Jack said as the credits began to roll. “It didn't really make any sense, but I guess that's fantasy for you.”

  “Yeah,” was all I could think of to say.

  “Now what?” he asked, making my stomach twist into a snake pit of nerves all over again. What did he mean by that?

  “That's the only movie I rented,” I replied, hoping he would get the hint that he needed to leave.

  “If you still want to go out, it's not too late. We could go to a bar, or I could show you my place.” There was something dark behind his offer to show me his place—something I didn't like.

  “I'm tired and Mandy will be home soon. You should probably go,” I suggested.

  “I thought your friend wanted to meet me.”

  “She does, but I don't feel like being up all night listening to her talk about you like some fangirl.”

  “Well you're no fun,” Jack huffed playfully.

  “I never claimed to be,” I said dryly.

  “I guess I'll go then.” He stood. “Though I would have liked to spend more time with you.”

  “You spend eight hours a day with me five days a week. Sometimes more than that. Isn't that enough?”

  “I spend most of that time in my office, so it's technically not spent with you.”

  “Still.”

  He was beginning to catch on to my discontent. “I thought we could be friends outside of work.”

  “Friends don't kiss, Jack.” I gave him a serious look.

  “That was research.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Research?” I arched an eyebrow, leading him to the door.

  “Mhm.”

  “And what did you discover from that research?”

  “That you're definitely not a lesbian.”

  My heart stuck in my chest. Could Jack really tell from one non-reciprocating kiss, or was he just pretending to know? The smug look on his face made me even less h
appy.

  “You can't tell that from a kiss,” I insisted.

  “Of course I can. I've kissed a lot of women. Hundreds,” Jack boasted. “You can tell a lot about a woman by the way she kisses.”

  “You just said by the way she kisses. I didn't actually kiss you. You kissed me, and I didn't reciprocate.”

  “But you wanted to. I could tell.” He stood on my doorstep, grinning as if he was the best mind reader in the world.

  “Well, if you can tell so much from a kiss, then you can also tell I'm not one of your blonde sluts.” I slammed the door in Jack's face, exasperated. Instantly, I regretted it, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to open the door, no matter how many times he rang the bell. Who did he think he was? Hundreds of women. That certainly didn't make Jack anymore appealing.

  I stood with my back pressed against the door, listening to the doorbell ring repeatedly, to him calling my name. Part of me wanted to shatter into a million pieces and sob. Another part of me just wanted to get away. I felt trapped.

  Eventually, the doorbell stopped ringing, and I felt safe enough to return to the couch. What had just happened? I couldn't comprehend it. Had he come over specifically with the intentions of kissing me? It sure seemed like it. Maybe I should have taken Jack up on his offer for dinner. I doubted he would have been bold enough to try to kiss me in public. Getting caught kissing one of his employees couldn't possibly look good. While everyone knew Jack slept with his employees, it was a closed-door affair. None of the girls were dumb enough to take that information public.

  To keep my mind off things, I restarted the movie. Thanks to my thoughts being on Jack the entire time he was over, I had missed most of it anyway. After about fifteen minutes of being unable to concentrate, I resigned to turning off the movie and curling up on the couch with a box of tissues to sob out my frustration. What would this mean for Jack and I now? What would this mean for my job? It felt like one kiss had changed everything. And even worse, when he was on my doorstep, I practically admitted I had lied about being a lesbian. I called my co-workers sluts too. He would probably fire me now. Everything I had worked so hard for felt like it melted away at the sensual touch of Jack's lips.

  When Mandy got home from work, I was no better off. She found me on the sofa and instantly knelt at my side in concern. Despair filled me. The look on her face plainly said she thought I had quit my job or gotten fired. It was hurtful, in and of itself, and only made me want to cry more, especially because I thought the truth of Mandy's fears was right around the corner.

  “What's wrong?” she asked.

  “Jack came over, and he kissed me, and I got mad, and I called the girls in the office his sluts,” I coughed out.

  “Jack Kemble was here . . . in our apartment,” was the only part she heard. “Why was he here?”

  “I don't know. He stalked me. I told him I didn't want to go out with him tonight, so he came over instead . . . without my permission.”

  Mandy's sympathy quickly faded away. “That's it? Why are you crying? That's nothing to cry over.”

  “I don't know. I don't want an intimate relationship with him. It will ruin my job.”

  “Jack Kemble has an intimate relationship with all of his female employees. You've acknowledged that yourself. None of them have quit or been fired over it. I don't understand why you're freaking out.”

  “I don't want to be a part of his stupid harem. But if I refuse him, I feel like he'll fire me.”

  Now she was a bit more concerned. “I see. So, don't refuse him.” She shrugged.

  “That's not fair. I feel like I'm going to be forced to sleep with him.”

  “Jen, it's Jack fucking Kemble. Most girls would pay to sleep with him.”

  I sat up, wiping my eyes. Mandy was right. Things could be a lot worse. Jack could be cruel or unattractive, but he was neither. Most women wouldn't be whining if they were in my position. So why was I? Deep down, I knew the answer. It had nothing to do with my job. I just didn't want to be one of hundreds, a notch on his bed post, not special. Girls were a dime a dozen to Jack, and if I slept with him, it would make me feel cheap. That was the real reason I didn't want to sleep with him, as stupid and selfish as it was. But Jack had gave me so much. The least I could do was give him my body. Still, it was a souring thought, like I was selling myself. I didn't like it.

  “You're right. I'm fine,” I said finally, getting up to go to my room. Mandy didn't understand. She wasn't going to understand, so there was no point in discussing it any further.

  I dreaded Monday like the plague, but it came regardless of my feelings. When I stepped into Jack's office to hand him his coffee, I didn't even want to look at him. You won, you smug son of a bitch. You're going to get what you want. I hope you're happy.

  Despite my internal bitterness, Jack treated me no different than he ever had. The day continued on as normal, though I performed my job tasks with much less enthusiasm. At the end of the shift, I half expected Jack to ask if I wanted to go back to his place, but he didn't, and I was thankful for it.

  When I got home, there was a large bouquet of roses sitting on the middle of the kitchen table. At first, I didn't think anything of it, assuming they belonged to Mandy. But when she got home from work that afternoon, the first thing she asked was, “Did you figure out who sent the flowers?”

  “I thought they were yours,” I replied, pulling myself off the couch to go look at the card.

  “It says they're from your secret admirer. Scrounge up any secret admirers lately?”

  “Not that I can think of. Maybe they're from Eric.”

  Not feeling like playing games, I called up Eric to inquire about the roses.

  “Do you want me to send you roses?” He asked teasingly. “Because I can, if it will make you go out with me.”

  “Not a chance, hot stuff,” I laughed.

  “Looks like I'm not the only one after Jenny. I guess I should start stepping up my game.”

  “Or stepping down, the same as this guy is going to have to do. I don't want to date anyone right now.” Or did I? Maybe if I had a boyfriend, Jack would leave me alone, though it hadn't stopped him from hooking up with the married girls in the office.

  “Poor us,” Eric laughed uncomfortably.

  “Indeed.”

  There were only two other possibilities of where the roses had come from, and neither one of them were appealing. Jack obviously knew where I lived, though I didn't picture him as a romantic guy. Besides, I had just rejected him yet again. Why would he bother?

  The only other person I could think of was my stalker from the last apartment complex I lived in, but that was highly improbable. We had moved shortly after he started harassing me. Besides, he had left the roses on my car, not on my doorstep.

  Jack was the only real possibility, but I was too scared to ask him about it. I decided it was best to just ignore the gesture. If he had sent them, surely he would eventually bring it up.

  The next day when I got home from work, there was an edible arrangement in the fridge. It seemed my secret admirer was relentless. Each day of the week, he sent something else. On Tuesday, it was a box of chocolates. On Wednesday, it was a giant stuffed bear. On Thursday, it was a bottle of champagne. And on Friday, it was just an envelope. It was waiting for me on the table when I walked through the door. The handwriting wasn't Jack's, but as soon as I opened the letter, I knew it was from him. Inside was one thousand dollars in cash, a business card to a dress shop, a ticket to a masked ball, and a note that read:

  Dear Juliet,

  I would be ever so honored if you would attend this year's Halloween Masked Ball with me. Enclosed you will find the funds to transform you into Masked Ball royalty. See the dress maker from the business card to be fitted in a gown made for a princess. Don't forget to buy a mask with it, otherwise they won't let you in.

  When you get to the ball, tell no one your name. This is a completely anonymous event. Simply hand the doorman your ticket, and you
will be admitted into the building. I will be waiting for you at the top of the stairs inside the ballroom.

  If you do not attend, I will be utterly heartbroken. All advances toward you will cease, and you'll forever be left wondering who your secret admirer is.

  All of my love,

  Romeo

  There was no question in my mind who my secret admirer was. Now it was just a matter of whether or not I'd reject him. This was it, the crossroads where I could make all of my problems go away. All I had to do was not show up.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I handed Mandy four crisp hundred-dollar bills. “This should pay up what I owe you for back rent.”

  She took the bills apprehensively. I could tell part of her didn't want to take the money, but she wasn't dumb enough to give it back. This was the only chance Mandy would get for a while to be paid in one lump sum. “Six-hundred dollars should still buy you a nice dress,” she said finally.

  “I think a flat-screen TV would be nicer,” I suggested.

  “Jen.” Mandy gave me a sardonic look.

  “What? He didn't say I had to give the money back to him if I didn't go to the ball.”

  “I know, but you can't just blow him off like that.”

  “Why not? It's the answer to my prayers. Did you read the part in the note where he said he'll cease pursuing me? It's absolutely perfect. Once this stupid ball is over, I can stop holding my breath at work.”

  She sighed. “I suppose you're right. Still, I think you should go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it would be fun.”

  “Jack Kemble's fun is going to ruin my life, and I rather like my life the way it is now, don't you?”

  “It's just sex,” she muttered before walking away with the money in hand.

  Just sex? Not hardly. How could I just have sex with my boss—someone who had complete control over my financial well being?

  I shoved the other six-hundred dollars in my pocket and then picked up the rest of the contents from the envelope and took them to my room. My first instinct was to throw them all in the garbage and be done with it, but sentiment stopped me. It would be a nice souvenir for later, maybe something to tell my children or grandchildren about, if I ever had any. The time I rejected multibillionaire Jack Kemble.