Fake Bride: A Billionaire Boss Fake Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Bloom

  Mila rode in Marcus's stretch black limo. She gazed through the tinted windows at the city passing by, but she could think of nothing but last night in her mother's house. Tension and worry hung over the whole family. They went over and over her father's papers. They couldn't believe Mila would find a way to pay off the debt so her mother could stay in the house.

  Marcus sat in the seat next to her, but he didn't try to talk to her. He sat as far away from her as he could, against the opposite door, and he gazed out the other window. What was he thinking right now? He would never know she did all this to save her mother. To him, she would never be anything but a baby factory. He would take his baby, and she would disappear out of his life. So much the better.

  When this was all over and done with, when she collected her money and paid her mother's debt, she never wanted to see his face again. She couldn't look him in the eye. She was nothing to him but a means to an end. Come to think of it, he was nothing to her but a means to an end, too.

  He would never be her baby's father. She wouldn't have a baby. She would go on with her life. She would work and live and meet people. She wouldn't be a mother. She would be a test tube someone used to get what they wanted. He paid her for it. End of story.

  The limo moved through the city streets, but it couldn't move fast. Traffic slowed it down, but that didn't bother Mila. Everything about this situation moved in slow motion. She watched herself meet Marcus in the office. She watched him sign the bank transfer order for the first installment of her payment. She watched him escort her down the elevator. She watched herself get into the limo. None of this was really happening.

  Marcus broke in on her thoughts by clearing his throat. “Thank you for doing this for me, Mila. This means a lot to me. I wouldn't want anyone but you.”

  She shrugged. “Sure, Marcus. I should be thanking you, too. Thank you for giving me this opportunity. It means a lot to me, too.”

  He looked over at her, but she kept her eyes trained out the window. “Whatever's bothering you, I want to say you can tell me if you want to. You can trust me. Whatever made you change your mind, whatever it is you need this money for, if you ever need someone to confide in, I'm here for you. We've known each other long enough. If you need help, maybe I can help you.”

  She couldn't stop herself facing him then. “I know I can trust you, but I don't need help. I just need this money.” She smacked her lips and chopped the air with her hand. “Aw, what the heck. I might as well tell you. It's nothing shameful or stupid like paying for drugs or gambling debts, if that's what you're thinking.”

  “I wasn't thinking anything of the kind. I know you wouldn't get into anything like that. I just can't figure out what grand emergency would crop up that would make you change your mind so fast. You gave me a very definite no, and then a few hours later, you came back practically begging for this contract. If you're in some trouble, I want to help you. I can't stand by and let you flounder on your own.”

  “You're not letting me flounder. You're helping me. You're helping me more than I deserve. My father died, okay? That's what happened. My father dropped dead of a massive heart attack and left my mother saddled with a huge mortgage on their house. She can't afford to pay the loan payments. She doesn't have enough income to survive. I need this money to pay off her debt so she can stay in the house. That's the big mystery. That's all there is to it.”

  He turned to the window. “I see.”

  Mila went back to looking the other way. “Please don't thank me for this or appreciate what I'm doing. I'm just as much a mercenary as you are. I'm worse than a mercenary.”

  He didn't say anything. Mila wallowed in her misery all the way to the clinic, but when the limo pulled into the underground parking garage and stopped, Mila's hand shot out to stop Marcus getting out. “Listen. Maybe this isn't such a great idea after all. You don't want your baby growing in someone who doesn't really want to do this. Maybe you should find someone else.”

  “Like who would I find?”

  “I don't know. Maybe you could take out an ad somewhere.”

  Marcus sat back in the seat. “Look, Mila. You came clean about your motives, so let me come clean, too. I don't want anybody else. I looked long and hard for someone else, and I always came back to you. You're doing this for your mother. That in itself tells me you're the right woman for the job.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The only way I could get someone growing this baby who really wanted to do this is if I got married and knocked up my wife the old fashioned way. That's not going to happen. I'm too busy even to go on a date. I have to use a surrogate, and that means you. You've got all the qualities I want my child to inherit from the mother, and you have that extra je ne sais quoi I could never have hoped to find from anyone answering an ad. You're compassionate. You're family oriented. You're selfless. This situation with your mother proves that.”

  Mila shifted in her seat. “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure I'm really the one you want?”

  “I'm sure.” He took her hand from the seat. “Come on. Let's get in there. If you don't like what you see, you can still change your mind.”

  His words lifted her spirits, and she let him hand her out of the limo. He led her to an elevator, and they whizzed up into the building. Somewhere on the upper floor, the doors opened on a normal-looking office tastefully decorated with couches and a table full of ordinary magazines. Mila sat down across from a couple. The man read a hunting/fishing magazine while the woman did the crossword puzzle.

  Mila picked up a Woman's Weekly, but she only pretended to read while she studied the couple over the top. Were they married, trying everything under the sun in the desperate hope of bringing a child into their shattered marriage? Were they already parents of one child having trouble with the second?

  The woman glanced up and caught Mila looking. The woman cast a sidelong glance at Marcus. He tapped the glass of an aquarium in the corner and smiled at Mila. That woman would never know Marcus and Mila weren't another random couple like her and her husband. She would never guess Marcus was Mila's boss—or ex-boss—paying her a pile of cash to have his baby.

  At that moment, a well-dressed older woman stuck her head in. “Mila?”

  Mila followed her into the nicest doctor's office she ever saw. Plush carpet lined the halls, and cushy chairs sat in front of desks. The woman opened another door and motioned Mila into the seat. The woman sat down behind the desk and pulled the keyboard toward her. “So, you're here for your initial exam. You're doing standard artificial insemination with ovulation tracking. Is that correct?”

  Mila turned bright red. “Yes, that's correct.”

  The woman smiled. “Don't worry. It's normal to have some jitters and anxiety going into fertility treatment. We offer counseling before and after the procedure to help you process any issues you face during your treatment. Here's the counselor's card. Feel free to call her whenever you need support.”

  “Thank you.” Mila stuffed the card in her pocket without looking at it. She sure wouldn't be talking to any counselor about this situation. She must be the only woman on the planet getting paid to have her boss's baby.

  “Now,” the doctor went on, “I'll just check a few pieces of background information and we can go ahead and get started. What is your date of birth?”

  “August 25, 1990.”

  The doctor tapped on her keyboard. “Twenty-seven years old. That's perfect. Do you smoke?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever smoked?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever had children?”

  “No.”

  “What was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

  Mila's cheeks burned. “A week ago on Wednesday.”

  “Great. Now if you'll just jump up on the table, I'll give you a routine pelvic exam. We'll do a quick pap smear, just like all the others you've had, and we'll take a blood sample. Then you'll be all done.”

/>   Mila didn't see any table until the woman walked around behind her. That's when Mila saw a regular doctor's exam table tucked behind the office door. No one would know it was there. The doctor pulled the curtain. “Take off your clothes below the waist, and put this sheet over your hips. I'll wait out here. You call me when you're ready.”

  Mila couldn't get over all this. Her head spun. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be taking off her clothes in an office downtown, getting ready to get knocked up by some guy she worked for. Somehow, she got through the exam. Heaven knew she'd been through enough of them, but she couldn't escape the distinct feeling she was doing something wrong.

  The next thing she knew, the doctor chirped, “You can get dressed now. I'll wait for you out here.”

  Mila put her clothes back on, but they couldn't hide the sticky feeling all over her skin. When she shot the curtain back, she found the doctor typing at her desk. She smiled up at Mila and pushed a ribbon-wrapped present across the desk. “Here's your treatment package for the next two weeks. You'll find some testing strips and detailed instructions of everything you have to do.”

  Mila stared at the beautiful box wrapped in shiny paper. “What?”

  To her relief, the woman didn't laugh in her face the way she expected. “We'll track your cycle over the next two weeks to determine the best day to inseminate you. You'll test your own urine, just the way you do when you get a UTI.”

  “I've never had a UTI.”

  “Well, you'll find detailed instructions inside. When you see the testing window on the strip turn purple, you'll call the clinic and we'll bring you in.”

  “Bring me in?”

  The woman grinned. “That's just our way of saying you'll come in for your first insemination. You'll have five inseminations, two per day for every ovulation. Once you finish one round of inseminations, we'll set up a schedule of blood tests to see if you're pregnant.”

  Mila mumbled down at her shoes. “Oh, right.”

  The woman stood up. “You're all done for the day. You can wait out in the reception area for your partner.”

  Mila blinked. Partner? She could only mean Marcus.

  Mila collected her present and went out to the reception area. Marcus wasn't there, so she picked up the half-finished crossword left by the other.....what could she call that other woman waiting for treatment? Was she a patient? Was she a client?

  Before she could figure out a five letter word for 'faint', Marcus came through the same door. He looked all around him and nodded to Mila. “Let's go, if you're ready.”

  Chapter 4

  Marcus didn't give the present a second glance. He escorted Mila back to the parking garage through the same elevator. In a second, she found herself gliding through the city on her way back to the office.

  Marcus glanced over at her. “Did everything go all right?”

  She nodded. “Fine. Very routine.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So what did they do to you? Did you get a regular exam?”

  “No exam. I went into the donation room and banked some sperm. I have to go in every day until you get...you know, pregnant.”

  “What do you mean by 'banked some sperm'? How do you do that?”

  He shot her a quick glance and turned away to hide his burning cheeks. “Oh, you know, it's just what you'd expect. I have to go into a room and yank off into a container. That's all it means.”

  Mila opened her mouth and closed it again. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Oh.”

  He looked out the window to avoid her eyes. “It's a nice room and everything, not at all trashy. There's a big red couch on one side and a bunch of small cubicles with mirrors and chairs, and there's a bunch of nudie magazines all over the place to help you get into the mood.” He gave a nervous chuckle.

  Mila stared at the side of his head. Nudie magazines? Yank off into a container? She couldn't reconcile all that with the immaculate, sterile experience she just had. “So what did you...I mean...Forget it. I shouldn't be asking you about it.”

  “What do you want to know? Do you want to know if I looked at the magazines when I did it?”

  “Forget I said anything. I don't want to know.”

  He rode in silence for a while. Mila looked out the window, but her heart wouldn't slow down. So he looked at a nudie magazine and yanked off into a container to bank his sperm. In a few days or weeks, they would inseminate her with that sperm and she would get pregnant. What was the big deal?

  She couldn't stop thinking about it, though. The whole thing struck her as...well, as kind of seedy and dirty. Why did they have to go through all that trouble, just to get her pregnant? He wanted a child. This procedure must be the most complicated, expensive, and embarrassing way to go about it.

  His voice drifted across the limo out of a dream. “I did look at the magazines. They turned me on, you know. The women in them are all perfect, but after a while, I stopped thinking about doing it with one of them. After a while, you start thinking about doing it with a real woman. I real woman, a woman with some substance, is so much more exciting and erotic than anything you see in a magazine.”

  Mila couldn't turn around. What could she say to that? How could he talk about yanking himself off while looking at a magazine in a sperm bank room? Was he turned on right now? Was he still sort of hard from his session in that room?

  What turned him on in there? What did he see that made him hard? She clamped her eyes shut against all those images. She couldn't think about that. She couldn't start thinking about him that way. She had to keep this arrangement strictly business or she would lose her mind.

  He kept talking. Maybe talking made him feel better. “I started thinking about getting a woman pregnant by fucking her. I start thinking what it would be like if I got you pregnant that way. That really got me going. That's what got me hot enough to cum.”

  Mila's head whipped around to see him still gazing the window. “You...you thought about...about getting me pregnant that way?”

  “Sure. You're a fine-looking woman. You know that. You're exactly the sort of woman I would choose if I wanted to get with somebody. I can't think of anybody I'd rather do it with.”

  Mila's jaw dropped. “What are you saying? Are you saying you want to do it with me?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn't presume to suggest anything like that. You're doing this contract for me. That's all. I don't expect you to have anything to do with me.”

  She turned away. “Oh. I understand.”

  “Don't misunderstand, Mila. I would love to do it with you. I've admired you for years. That's exactly why I wouldn't approach you for anything unprofessional like that.”

  She nodded, but she didn't turn around.

  After a while, he broke the silence. “Did I say something to offend you? I shouldn't have told you I was thinking about you in that room.”

  “That doesn't offend me. I'm flattered, and I understand there can never be anything between us. I guess I'm just surprised. I never realized you thought that way about me.”

  “Of course I did. You're any man's dream come true.”

  Her head whipped around, and she found him looking right at her. “Shut up.”

  “Don't you know it's true? Your brains, your body, your business savvy—you're the total package. Any man in his right mind would love to eat your for lunch.”

  She blushed to the roots of her hair, but she couldn't look away. “If that's true, why can't I get a boyfriend?”

  “I don't know. Why can't you get a boyfriend? You should have guys breaking down your front door.”

  “I don't have a front door. I guess that's why I don't have a boyfriend. I'm too busy working and moving around from contract to contract. I never stay in one place long enough to get a boyfriend.”

  “It's the same for me. I'm too busy controlling the world to get a girlfriend. I suppose that's why I have to hire someone to have a baby for me.”

  “What are you talking about? You're mor
e the total package than I am. I mean, look at you. You're master of the universe. You're built like a brick shithouse, and you're drop-dead gorgeous. I'm sure you can have any woman you want.”

  “But not you, right?”

  Mila waved her hands on confusion. “I never said anything about that me. We're talking hypothetically here.”

  Marcus gazed out the window. “You don't want a meathead like me for a boyfriend, Mila. I understand that. You want a nice country boy in a plaid flannel shirt and scuffed blue jeans.”

  “Who said anything about me getting a boyfriend? The last I checked, I'm getting pregnant in a few days. I'll have even less time for a boyfriend than ever.”

  “Then we're two peas in a pod. We'll both live our lives alone.”

  “Except you'll have a child to raise. Maybe you won't have a girlfriend, but you won't be alone. Or maybe the baby will make you a sex magnet for every woman in search of the perfect mate.”

  He snorted. “I should be so lucky.”

  Mila went back to her own window. They both buried themselves in their respective dream worlds until Marcus murmured under his breath again. “It does seem like a crazy way to have a baby. It seems like there ought to be a much simpler way to do it.”

  “There is,” Mila replied. “There's the old fashioned way, but that's not going to happen between us.”

  The silence got longer and longer. Mila kept her eyes fixed on the scenery flowing by her window. She didn't dare turn around to face him. So many confused thoughts and emotions and images flashed before her, she couldn't make sense of them all. Could it be? Impossible! How could she even consider it?

  Maybe, just maybe. Naw, it was too far-fetched. But what if? What's the worst that could happen? Curiosity overcame her reserve. Ever so slowly, she turned around to find him turning toward her at exactly the same time.

  Their eyes found each other. Mila searched his face for some answer. What was he thinking about right now? Could he really be thinking the same thing as her?

  He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He glanced down at her mouth and back up to her eyes. That penetrating question nagged his eyes. What if? Maybe, just maybe.