Fake Bride: A Billionaire Boss Fake Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Bloom

  “You’ll see me again. I don’t want to let you go.”

  “You’re letting me go right now. Go on. Go catch your plane. I’ll get breakfast downstairs and go back to my life as a temp. You never have to think about me again. You’ll find some other tramp in Europe to stick it to.”

  “Don’t talk about yourself like that, Sonya. You know I care for you.”

  “You obviously don’t care enough to do anything about it.”

  “What could I do about it?”

  “You already said you can’t cancel the tour, so don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine with my new toys. I don’t need you.”

  “You need me, Sonya. You need me just as much as I need you. You wouldn’t be so upset about this if you didn’t.”

  “Leave me alone. You’re a prick.”

  “Come with me.”

  “Blow yourself.”

  “I mean it. Come with me to Europe. This doesn’t have to be the end. You always said you enjoyed traveling the world and not being tied down to any one job. Come with me. We can have a good time in between my speaking engagements.”

  “We can have a good time editing your speeches. Isn’t that what you mean? I won’t be your EA, so you can forget about that.”

  “I don’t want you to be my EA. You’ve gone way beyond that.”

  “What would I be—your sex kitten?”

  He burst out laughing. “My sex kitten? Is that what you think this is all about?”

  “What would I be to you if I came to Europe, then? You’d keep me tied up in your hotel room so you could come back from your speaking engagements and bang me to your heart’s delight. That’s all.”

  He leaned in close and kissed her on the nose. “We could have that and so much more. We could see the sights, go out to dinner, take gondola rides in Venice—you name it.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question. What would I be? If I’m not your EA and I’m not your sex kitten, what would I be to you?”

  “I don’t know what to call it. You would be my...I don’t know…my girlfriend?”

  Her eyes popped open, and she guffawed with laughter. “Cut it out. This is serious.”

  He pressed his lips together to stop himself smiling. “I am serious, Sonya. I’ve never had a relationship like this before, so I don’t know what to call it. You wouldn’t be any of those things to me and I wouldn’t be any of those things to you. I wouldn’t be a boyfriend like you’ve had in the past, and I wouldn’t be your boy toy or your boss or anything else. I would just be me, and we would be together.”

  “Together…as in a relationship?”

  “Call it whatever you want to. I don’t want to walk out that door without you. If you don’t come to Europe with me now, I want to know you’re still here, that you didn’t feel like I had my way with you and abandoned you. I want this to continue in whatever form you’re comfortable with. I want you in my life, one way or the other.”

  She stared at him. Who was this man? What in the world was he talking about? Europe—could she? This didn’t happen. You didn’t go home with a strange man and whizz off to Europe the next morning, just like that. That sort of thing happened only in books, never in real life.

  He shifted around on his elbow. His barn-door chest stood up straight and tall in front of her. “Get up and get dressed, Sonya. We’re going to the airport.”

  “You’re serious about this.”

  “I was never more serious in my life.”

  “What about my job? They’re expecting me to show up in the morning.”

  “Call in sick. You’re a temp. You can call in sick and then report to the placement agency that you withdraw from the posting.”

  “That doesn’t happen. I’ve committed to finishing the posting.”

  “Then quit the agency.”

  “I would lose my reference.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t be temping anymore.”

  “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

  “No, Sonya. I’m trying to make it. Are you really happy with these fly-by-night temp jobs? Why don’t you try for something you’re really passionate about or talented at? Why don’t you go for the brass ring?”

  “With you, do you mean? Is that what you mean by the brass ring?”

  “I have nothing to do with this. This is all about you and what you want. It’s the same thing you went through the first time we had sex in my office, except now we’re talking about your life. What is it you really want? Do you want to work for Liam as a temp, or do you want to grasp your fulfillment with both hands? You could take control of your own destiny and never have to depend on anyone else for your happiness. You wouldn’t have to depend on me for it, either. If you don’t want to go to Europe with me, just say the word, but don’t stay here and languish in some temp agency. You’re life isn’t worth that.”

  She sank back on the bed, utterly deflated. What was her life coming to? Did she really have to be told this by some self-styled life coach? She had to have her own sexual malaise shoved in her face along with several dozen high-powered orgasms before she realized she was living someone else’s lie. She took that bitter pill and jumped in with both feet to the deep end of taking care of herself.

  Now here he was, Cameron O’Toole, telling her to do the same thing with the rest of her life. She could walk out of this gilded cage and never see him again. She could go back to her solitary apartment and her sex toys, but she could still claim a life for herself, a life beyond agencies and employers and time sheets. She could do more than take dictation and screen executives’ emails and write other people’s blog posts for them.

  What exactly did she really want to do with her life? Why did it take Cameron O’Toole asking that question before she ever asked it of herself? No one in her life, least of all a man with whom she was sexually involved, had ever asked her that question in such a way that she couldn’t avoid answering it.

  She couldn’t look at him without answering it. She couldn’t look herself in the mirror without answering it. She couldn’t live another day without answering it, at least for herself.

  She blinked, and Cameron came back into focus. He regarded her with his direct gaze. He wasn’t going anywhere. He could wait for the next decade for her to answer that question, and whatever answer she came up with, he would accept it. He would be there, either in Europe or when he came back.

  Of one thing and one thing only was she certain. She didn’t want to let him walk out of her life. She didn’t want to lose him, either. If she didn’t go with him now, she wanted to know he would be there when he got back. She didn’t want this to end.

  Did she want to spend the next four months thinking about what she wanted to do with her life? Did she really want to spend the next four months temping before she did something about it?

  She already knew she didn’t want to temp for the rest of her life. So that was another thing of which she was certain. Temping was to work what Liam was to sex, so Cameron was right about that, too. Why did he have to be so God damn right about everything? Didn’t he have any flaws at all?

  Of-course he did. He wasn’t some glorified life coach, and he wasn’t a master wizard or a sex god. He was just a man with flaws like every other man, and she would find them out if she had anything much to do with him.

  That was okay. She could accept him as a flawed man, even if his body was stinkin’ hot. She could fuck his brains out while she decided what she wanted to be when she grew up. If his flaws proved more than she could stand, she could move on to something more fulfilling.

  It all came down to that, didn’t it? Sex, work, relationships—it all came down to fulfillment. Fulfillment, pleasure, and happiness. What was life for if not that? She could accept it from him.

  She pushed herself up on her hands. The leather restraints still hugged her wrists, but the dog clip no longer held them together. She wasn’t his bond sex slave anymore—if she ever had been. The chrome D ring clicked when she moved her
hands.

  She looked up to find him watching her. “All right. I’ll come with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He swung his legs over the bed. “Great. Get dressed. We’ll have breakfast and sleep on the plane.”

  She got out of bed and pulled up her skirt. “I guess there’s no time to stop by my apartment.”

  “What is it you want from there—your toys?”

  “I do have some valuable stuff there. I don’t like walking away from that.”

  “I can give you the money to pay the rent until we get back. Your stuff will be safe.”

  “I have enough money to pay the rent. I don’t need to accept it from you.”

  “I only meant….”

  “I have savings. I made good money temping in the last few years, and I put it away.”

  He rounded on her. “Listen, Sonya, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to buy you with my money just because I’m paying for this.”

  “I don’t think that. I just don’t want you to think I’m mooching off you. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. That’s what I respect about you. I wouldn’t offer to pay for things if I thought you were mooching.”

  “Good. Well, we got that cleared up.”

  “So, are you okay with paying the rent for the next four months?”

  “Actually, I don’t really want to. There are just a couple of things in the apartment I would want to keep. The rest of it, I could walk away from.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll have my man go around and pack everything up. He’ll put it in storage for you, in case you ever come back.”

  “Your man? Is that some kind of servant?”

  “Actually, he’s a concierge.”

  “Oh. I get it.”

  “So is that all right, if he packs up your stuff and stores it somewhere for you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “That way, we won’t have to spend time going through your apartment before we go to the airport. Besides, we might not come back to Philly right away.”

  “What would we do?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on how we feel after the speaking tour. You might decide you want to go somewhere completely different, or we might decide to go somewhere together.”

  Sonya brightened up. “That sounds good.”

  “Great. Now put your shirt on before you give me a hard-on and I nail you all over again and we miss our plane.”

  ***

  THE END

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  Secret Quickie

  Chapter 1

  Roy Fontaine jerked his chin toward the bride’s side. “Who’s the tart?”

  Ben Poppins glanced over his shoulder. “That’s my sister Bridget.”

  Roy’s eyes widened. “Your sister! Dang!”

  Bridget turned her back on the scene and muttered to Sheila, the other bridesmaid. “Did you hear that? That scumbag just called me a tart.”

  Sheila batted her eyes at Roy over Bridget’s shoulder. “He’s not too bad, though, is he? I wouldn’t mind him calling me a tart.”

  Bridget didn’t turn around. “He’s kinda old, isn’t he?”

  Sheila cocked her head and grinned. “He can’t be too old. He doesn’t have any gray hair, and those crow’s feet around his eyes make him look distinguished.”

  Bridget smoothed her dress down her hips. “You can have him, then. He’s all yours.”

  Sheila’s eyes popped open. “Oooh! Do that again! He’s checking out your ass.”

  Bridget flushed. She hadn’t meant to show off her swerves to her brother’s best man. She only wanted to look good, and this dress clung to her tighter than she expected. It left nothing of her voluptuous curves and full bust to the imagination. Every guy in the wedding checked her out every time she turned around.

  Just then, the minister called everyone’s attention. “Is everyone in their places? Okay, I’ll just go up front with you, young man.” He tapped Ben on the shoulder. Once the groom’s party gets into position, we’ll start the music and the bride’s party can walk down the aisle.”

  He left with Ben and Roy and the rest of the groom’s men. The weight of all their eyes lifted off Bridget’s shoulders. She sighed with relief. “I don’t understand why we have to wear all our fancy clothes for the rehearsal anyway. Why can’t we just wear our old blue jeans.”

  Sheila ran her finger next to her mouth to remove any stray lipstick. “You wouldn’t want to get dressed on the day of the wedding and find out your dress didn’t fit, would you? Besides, I just love seeing all those guys in their tuxes. Which one do you like best?”

  Bridget blushed again and faced front. “I wasn’t looking.”

  Unfortunately, when she faced front, she found herself looking at all of them lined up in a row like penguins on a beach. Her brother Ben stood nearest the minister with Roy at his side. The other groom’s men trailed off into the background, but she couldn’t help noticing Roy. He stared straight at her with his piercing gray eyes.

  Okay, so Sheila was right and he looked smashing in his tux. They all did, but for some reason, Roy stuck out to her. He stood three inches taller than all the other men, and his shoulders filled out his jacket so he occupied more space than any other two. He made Ben look tiny and fragile standing next to him.

  Roy’s eyes burned into Bridget’s face. He scanned her up and down in her tight bridesmaid’s dress. Maybe she should tell the fitter to let the dress out some, but that might make her look even bigger. To hell with him. Let him look. Once her brother got safely married, she never had to see him again.

  She tried to face him, to stare him down, but she had to drop her eyes to the floor before that direct, determined gaze of his. Ben tried to copy him by swelling out his chest and throwing his head back, but no one could match Roy’s size and raw muscle power.

  She didn’t have to look at him again. She already knew what he looked like. His close-cropped brown hair surrounded his head, and he wore his own tailored tux instead of a rental like the others.

  She could understand now why Ben talked about Roy nonstop ever since he started working with him. Roy had more money than God, and he took Ben under his wing to mentor him in his multi-billion dollar consultancy firm. Ben told some pretty outrageous stories about Roy and his exploits, but he wanted to be just like his older friend.

  Bridget let out another sigh of relief when the music started, but that posed a whole new problem. She wouldn’t have to stand there in the vestry with him staring at her anymore, but now she had to walk down the aisle while he watched.

  He didn’t even look at the flower girl or Sheila sashaying into their places. Bridget could just imagine Sheila eyeing Roy all over and grinning like a tiger. That girl had no scruples about throwing herself at a rich and powerful man, and Sheila heard Ben’s stories the same as Bridget. They made her mouth water to get her hands on Roy.

  At last, Bridget’s turn came. She couldn’t put it off any longer, and she couldn’t get out of it, either. Not only would she have to strut her curvy body in this skin-tight dress in front of him, she’d have to do the same thing at the wedding tomorrow, too. She would have to show her stuff now and deal with him for the rest of the weekend until one of them made a discrete exit at the end of the wedding.

  She couldn’t exactly bail on her brother’s wedding, but if Ben and Larissa got married in the city like civilized people, Bridget could go home between major events. Instead, all the guests and participants got locked up in a luxury resort in the Berkshires for a whole weekend. Friday wasn’t over yet, and already Bridget wanted to escape.

  She started down the aisle. She could only face the firing squad and get it over with. Be
n smiled at her, but that did nothing to bolster her nerves. Roy didn’t smile. His eyes smoldered out of his chiseled face. Halfway down the aisle, she could see his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. His whole being seethed under his tux.

  A thousand eyes burned into her from all sides, but she couldn’t escape his penetrating gaze. He looked right through her dress to her flesh underneath. He peeled off every layer to her stomach, her hips, her rounded ass, her breasts, her cleavage above the ribbon neckline. Her guts flipped a somersault. She would NOT let this raving pig intimated her.

  By the halfway mark, her embarrassment turned to anger. Her natural spirit flared. If he wanted something to look at, she would darn well give it to him. She raised her chin, stuck out her chest, and stared right into his eyes. She threw out her hips when she walked and straightened her back. She imagined she was a model strutting down the runway with dozens of flash bulbs blowing all around her. She twisted her mouth up in a wicked smirk. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and she would let him think it to his heart’s content.

  His eyes flashed sharper than ever. He clenched his jaw, and his knuckles turned white where he clasped his hands in front of him. He watched her hips sway and her breasts bounce with every step.

  She got to the altar and turned to take her place with the other bridesmaids. At least that ordeal was over. As soon as Ben and Larissa finished pretending to say their vows and exchange rings, everyone would file out of the church. Bridget could free herself from out of this dress and get her own comfortable clothes back on. She made a note to herself not to sit anywhere near Roy at the rehearsal dinner after this and to avoid his room like the plague.

  As soon as she turned aside and lost sight of Roy’s eyes, the minister’s voice stopped her dead in her tracks. “Umm….wait a minute, Bridget.”

  She spun around to face that long line of black-suited men all over again. She stood right smack dab in front of Roy. They looked straight into each other’s eyes.

  Bridget floundered in confusion. Her cheeks burned, and her pulse pounded in her head. “What’s wrong?”