Liar (a FAUX-MANCE novel)

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  The whispers caught her attention before the man, aiming for her office did. She scanned the group, following the he’s coming this way, I’ve never seen him before, and is that really him? to the doorway, and her heart sunk. The man who stepped off the elevator was the man from the park — Nick.

  Her original instinct had been right. He was a stalker, the creepy kind, and now he was standing in her office with her and her team. How on earth he’d found her, she didn’t know. He only had her first name, though she did mention she worked for the event sponsor. Still, getting past security? This guy was good and probably dangerous.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” she asked, her hands on her hips, offering a threatening glare.

  Leaning against the doorway, with his hands in his pockets and a cocky grin, he nodded toward the watchful crowd before saying, “I’m here to see you.”

  “Uh, I can see that. You need to leave. I was very clear yesterday — not interested. Are you stalking me?” she asked, quick to scan the group of eyes fixed on her with shocked expressions to match.

  The whispers were louder, and the team was so invested in the back and forth, the only thing missing was popcorn. Something was off, and she didn’t know what, especially when she heard didn’t think he was real and it’s definitely him.

  Who? she wondered. How did some of her employees know who he was, but she didn’t? Then, a terrifying thought crossed her mind. What if they had seen his picture somewhere, like on TV? Could he be a wanted man? A true stalker? A criminal?

  Her fury escalated, and she felt the sudden urge to protect herself and those around her. “I asked you what you’re doing here.”

  “I answered.” He winked at a couple of the ladies sitting closest to him. “I’m here to see you — my fiancé.”

  Loud gasps filled the room, putting Cori on even higher alert. She tossed her hands in the air. “You know that wasn’t real, right? Do you know the difference between reality and fiction? I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you need to leave, now. Or I’ll…call security.”

  He shrugged, maintaining his megawatt smile, which might have charmed the pants off some, but not her. The chatter didn’t die down, and some of the women seemed to be entranced by his rugged good looks and that flashy smile. This was getting out of hand, and she needed to bring it to a close — fast. For all she knew, he had a gun or knife under that expensive Armani. He was an Armani wearing criminal — a polished thug.

  “Figures, I had to pick a crazy one,” she said while picking up her phone and calling the security desk. She couldn’t help but wonder why members of her team continued to gasp in shock every time she addressed him. “Tony, we have a trespasser…in my office.”

  “Your nose wrinkles when you’re mad. It’s…cute.” His compliment clearly offended her, but he found that just as cute as the wrinkled nose.

  “Cute! Bring back-up, Tony. He appears to be unstable.” She hung up her phone, knowing Tony would be there in no time, given the concern she heard in his voice.

  She looked to her staff. “I need you all to leave quickly. This is not a drill. Please follow safety protocol and exit the floor. Justin, you are the safety manager for this floor. You know what to do.” She turned to the man in Armani. “You’re here to see me, just let them go without incident and security will go easy on you.”

  As the people quickly filed out of the office and went straight for the stairwell, she couldn’t help but notice the snickers and more whispers. Even a few heads turned and laughed before rounding the last corner. What on earth?

  “Protecting your people — that’s honorable,” he said.

  “What do you want?”

  “A date,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, given the circumstance.

  “You really are crazy!” She reached into her nearby purse and pulled out her mace. You can never be too careful, she thought. She tossed her neck left then right, loosening up, ready to use those self-defense moves she learned back in college. “You come near me and I’ll unload this entire canister on you. Then, I’ll kick your ass…or…something.”

  “Wow. City life has really rubbed off on you.” He chuckled.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head, never losing that smile that most likely would have work on her…if he weren’t crazy. “About that date.”

  “I’m not dating you. I have a strict policy not to date psychopaths.” After dropping the insult, she thought better of it. If he truly was unstable, it wouldn’t be wise to provoke any particular violent tendencies he may possess. It was time to take some sort of ninja warrior course. The city was showing its dangerous colors.

  “We should get to know each other, so we don’t blow our cover.” That nonchalant shrug of his was getting on her nerves, and he knew it.

  “Our cover? What the hell are you talking about?” Her hand darted out in front of her, aiming her mace, when he started to move toward her. She did mini lunges, stretching her legs, ready for hand to hand combat, in case it came to that.

  He held his hands up in surrender, indicating he wasn’t a threat. “The invite to the San Juan Islands Memorial Day weekend. Winnie and Phillip? Have you already forgotten?”

  “Are you mad? That’s not happening. Do you really think I’d leave town with a stranger…or date one for that matter? I really can’t believe this is happening. My lie — lies, really — are catching up to me! This…this is karma, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t all dating couples start as strangers?” he asked, matter of fact.

  “Well…yes, but we aren’t a couple, we aren’t dating, and I’m filing a restraining order the minute security tosses you on your…ass.” It wasn’t in her nature to swear or be mean, but she thought perhaps a few choice words would intimidate him a bit and let the Armani Killer know she meant business.

  She looked around him, through the glass wall, feeling a sense of relief when Tony finally exited the elevator with his sidekick, Carmine. They headed right for her office, Tony’s hand resting on the stun gun on the right side of his utility belt. Tony’s angsty expression froze, and his eyes went wide when he entered the office and Nick turned to look at him. Surely Tony wasn’t intimidated. He must have been just as surprised by the man’s tall stature and clean-cut, tailored suit that didn’t scream sociopath — just like she had been.

  “Wh-What seems to be the problem?” Tony asked, looking between Nick and Cori.

  Her brows furrowed in confusion. She thought it was rather obvious what the issue was, but clarified by pointing at Nick. “Problem? Him. He’s the problem!”

  “But, Cori. I mean…Miss Dash…” Tony stammered.

  “But nothing. I want him removed, accompanied from the property, and a police report filed so my restraining order will stand. There is no telling what this…” she waved her hand up and down, indicating Nick, “loon is capable of.”

  Tony’s voice turned to one of reason. He clearly saw she was upset, flustered even, but he wasn’t sure she knew what she was really asking. “Uh…but, Miss Dash—”

  “Tony,” she interrupted before he could say another word, “I want him gone. Remember I told you about a…gentleman I met this weekend? Well, this is him. He found me. He’s delusional, and needs to go — now. Don’t be fooled by the knock-off designer suit. He’s a threat. Now, remove him.”

  “Oh? OH! Well, Miss—” Tony tried, once again, without any luck.

  “Tony…” she tried to interrupt him once more, frustrated by his unwillingness to do his job. Why was Tony, head of security Tony, so reluctant to do what he was paid to do?

  “I…I can’t, Cori. He’s—”

  “Crazy! I know! Remove him!” she shouted, tired of the charade Nick clearly orchestrated.

  “It’s okay, Tony. I’ve got this,” Nick said, patting Tony on the shoulder.

  “Uh, yes, Mr. Blackthorne,” Tony offered, emphasizing Blackthorne in an attempt to tos
s Cori a bone before she dug herself any deeper.

  Too late. She was already filling the hole she was laying in when Blackthorne registered loud and clear. “Blackthorne? You’re Nick…Dominic Blackthorne…owner of Thorne Industries…my…boss?”

  The charming smile returned. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Dash.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Tony and Carmine had left, and Cori paced her office, running her hands through her hair. “I had no idea who you were. I’m so sorry. Oh my God, how embarrassing.”

  “It’s okay. I knew who you were,” he said, cringing at his own words. Now, he did sound a little creepy.

  “Wait, then why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God! I said horrible things! You let me say horrible things.” She covered her mouth with both hands as if it would somehow take everything she’d already said back.

  “People tell me what I want to hear, simply because I am who I am, and they think they’ll benefit somehow from it. I don’t like smoke blown up my…” He stopped himself and corrected, realizing he was talking to a lady — a lady who clearly didn’t use a lot of off-color words. “Well, I guess I like honesty, and you were being honest.”

  “I mean…well, maybe I was…”

  “Being honest,” he finished for her, sensing her hesitation. “So, dinner tomorrow night. Let’s get to know each other so we slam dunk that engagement circus.”

  “No! I mean, you don’t have to. I was just going to email or text a cancellation in a few weeks. Like I said yesterday, I appreciate your help on the spot, but I think I’ve honestly gone too far. Today being case and point. I don’t expect you to…you know, go through with it.”

  “You’re my ‘fiancé,’” he said, using air-quotes. “We’re going. Besides, that wind bag, Winnie, and pencil dick, Phillip, are jealous, and they should be. Her face when they left yesterday…priceless. It’ll be…fun.” He stood and made his way out of the office, headed for the elevator.

  Before she could think of more reasons to turn him down, she found herself invested. “But…what should I…wear…” her voice trailed off to a near whisper on the last part, seeing he was likely out of range as he stepped onto the elevator.

  When he turned, their eyes locked as the doors closed, and he gave her one more look at that charming smile. She was in trouble.

  Walking back to the office from lunch, the next day, Cori reflected on her previous forty-eight hours, and no matter how she spun it, she felt…bad. She never felt bad, despite her life being full of shaky facades…this being the biggest. It didn’t help that she didn’t sleep well the night before either. It left her with a bout of brain fog that seemed to consume her in the moment.

  She hadn’t known what to wear and spent most of her morning trying to decide. What kind of dinner meeting would it be? Business? Casual? Was this a real date? She’d imagined he didn’t eat anywhere she had ever been, and the places he frequented likely had a dress code. She’d looked down at what she had on, realizing she was dressed more for a board meeting with the boss, not a date with him, then decided she’d have to worry about that later…along with everything else.

  Nick had said he’d known who she was, despite her not knowing who he was, but he didn’t. No one did. She wore knock-off designer clothing, or things she bought at a thrift shop for next to nothing. He didn’t know that she lived in a shabby, too-small studio apartment above a Chinese restaurant, outside the city, because it was all she could afford. The car service she was thought to use was her friend, the Uber driver. All facades. Lies.

  Sure, she didn’t have to tell him any of that and could let him go on thinking he knew who she was, but at some point, the half-truths and anything-but-the-truths would come out. For now, she could let him think he knew her and only share what she wanted him to know. That wasn’t being dishonest; it was just not being forthcoming. It may not matter anyway. This ploy may not even work.

  The moment she sat down at her desk, the phone went off with a double ring, indicating it was an internal call. The I.D. running across the top said it was Nick — Dominic — Mr. Blackthorne. What was she supposed to call him?

  “Hey, it’s Nick,” he said, upon her answering. He answered one question for her — he was Nick to her. “Do you like it?”

  “Like what?” She looked around her desk, confused and unsure what he was referring to.

  “Look behind your door,” he said.

  She stood, stretching the phone cord over her desk, and closed the door to reveal a garment bag hanging on the affixed hook. Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, she reached for the zipper, opening it to unveil what was inside. “Oh, Nick. It’s…beautiful. It’s…oh, wow. This is too expensive. It’s a Gwendolyn Brock. I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

  “Wear it, tonight. It’s yours.”

  “But I can’t. I could never pay—”

  “It’s a gift, Cori.” He knew she was proud, and his intention wasn’t to insult her, so he switched gears. “Besides, a friend owed me a favor, and I called it in.”

  “Nick…”

  “I invited you to dinner, and you didn’t know what to wear. You asked me what you should wear. This is me answering.”

  So, he had heard her before getting on the elevator the day before. “Well, that’s…very thoughtful of you. And it is lovely. Just lovely.”

  “So, you’ll wear it?”

  “Do I have a choice?” She laughed.

  “You always have a choice, but I would love it if you wore it. I think you would look lovely,” he teased, tossing her word back at her.

  It earned him a laugh. “Do you now? How can I say no when you just compared me to a Gwendolyn Brock design? You have a deal, Mr. Blackthorne.”

  “I’ll swing by and pick you up at seven—”

  “No! I mean, I’ll meet you here…at the office. I…uh…have a lot of work to do, so…” She did have a lot of work to do, but really, she didn’t want him driving clear out to her place in Washington Park, or he would figure out who and what she really was — a fraud, a liar.

  “Okay…I’ll see you at seven. Lobby?” he asked.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said with a smile before hanging up.

  No sooner did she do so, and her cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Nick.

  So you have my cell phone number. -Nick

  She smiled again — he seemed to have that effect on her — and texted back.

  Thank you. How did you get my number?

  It took him a few minutes to reply, and she found herself sitting there, staring at her phone, waiting like a giddy love-struck teenager when it finally buzzed.

  Human Resources gave it to me.

  Of course, they did, she thought. And she was glad. Her creepy intruder was no longer creepy — he was intriguing — and although this was all temporary and not real, she was fond of the man. He was forward, bossy, clearly accustom to getting what he wanted, but there was something else about him. Something attractive and endearing. She didn’t know what, though, but she was going to find out. She fired back another playful text.

  I think that’s illegal. They aren’t supposed to disclose employee information so freely.

  Another long pause, but this time, she worried he misconstrued her message and was offended. She was getting ready to send a clarifying text, feeling a bit foolish, when her phone buzzed again – it was him.

  I own the company. I have access to everything — good thing I’m not a psychopath stalker.

  She laughed at his poking fun, even if it was a little off-color, and sent him a single word response to sum up her thoughts.

  Touché.

  The day went on, but little to nothing got done. The dress hanging from the back of her door had her attention most of the afternoon. If she were being honest with herself, she was feeling a little self-conscious and intimidated by the dress…and the man who bought it for her. Looking down at her own clothing and taking a quick look in the compact mirror she kept in her desk drawe
r, she couldn’t help but feel a little plain and dowdy. Cori needed help — and fast. She grabbed her cell and dialed the one person she knew she could count on.

  “James? It’s me…what are you doing today around four o’clock?”

  His answer left her with an ear to ear grin. She would be ready for that dress tonight.

  Hustling through the lobby, Cori could see James already waiting for her outside. When she left her apartment earlier in the day, she’d assumed she was appropriately dressed, even if it was a bit on the ready for business side, and her look was on point — until she saw the beauty in the garment bag slung over her arm. There wouldn’t be time to get all the way home and back in time for her seven o’clock pick-up, but James had her covered. He had connections — knew people — from the theatre. That’s where they were headed for hair and makeup and a good dose of confidence.

  When Nick saw Cori leaving early, he made his way to Tony’s security desk. “Any idea where she’s headed? Thought she was working late?”

  “Don’t worry, kid. She’s not standin’ ya up,” Tony replied, picking up on Nick’s concern. “I bet she’s just getting ready for your big night. Don’t sweat it.”

  “I’m not picking her up until seven.” He looked at his watch to make sure he had the time right. “It takes three hours to get ready?”

  “Maybe she’s looking forward to your night out more than you thought?” Tony added, grinning at Nick. It was clear he was looking forward to it too.

  “Maybe…” Nick added, deep in thought, his words trailing off as he watched the black town car pull away.

  “Ya know, peonies are her favorite,” Tony offered, catching Nick’s attention again.

  “Peonies?”

  Tony chuckled. “Flowers. She loooves the peonies.”

  “Right! Flowers. Yes, peonies. Good to know.” Nick looked out the glass front again, watching the town car disappear in the distance, his mind hard at work on something. “Good talk, Tony. I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got…something to do.”