Fake Bride: A Billionaire Boss Fake Marriage Romance

by Cassandra Bloom

“So when does she eat?”

  “Just leave the plate out on the counter. She'll wait until we're gone. Then she'll come and eat.”

  Abbie shook her head. “This is really bad. It's terrible.”

  Malcolm shrugged. “If she wants to be miserable, I won't try to stop her.”

  “Don't say that. Don't say that about your own daughter. You want her to be happy, don't you?”

  “Sure, I do. I love her more than anything, but I've tried too many times and gotten kicked in the teeth. She wants it this way, so that's what she's gonna get.”

  “I don't believe that. I don't believe she does want it this way. She wants help. She just doesn't know how to get it.”

  “I've tried to help her. I've tried to talk to her. I've tried tough love. I've tried it all. So has her mother. Nothing works.”

  “I'll try, too. Maybe I can get through to her.”

  “You won't. You'll only make yourself as frustrated as I am. You're a stranger. She'll never even talk to you.”

  “Sometimes a stranger can do things a parent can't. I'll try anyway. I've got nothing to lose.”

  “Good luck.” Malcolm got up, snatched his jacket off the stool, and headed for the hall. “I'm going upstairs. You can find me in my office if you need me.”

  Abbie fetched her computer and opened it on the counter again, but she couldn't concentrate on her book. The sun went down and the lights came out in windows across the city. White and red lines of lights inched along the highways.

  Abbie put the computer away and enjoyed settling into her new digs. She never worked anywhere as nice as this before. Despite Trina's silent hostility and Malcolm burying his head in his work all the time, this was the closest she ever came to being included in a family. She usually took care of the kids in some back nursery before retreating to a dismal servant's room when they spent time with their parents or went to bed.

  She might as well be a guest in this condo. She would spend her days in the sunny living room and kitchen, and her room adjoined the living area. Malcolm told her she could move to any other room in the place that suited her better. No one ever said that to her before. Most employers barely spoke to her at all, much less asked her enough about herself to find out about her book.

  Malcolm did all that on her very first night in his house. She couldn't help remembering the look on his face when he walked in on her making dinner. She might as well be his wife instead of his daughter's nanny. The only thing missing was a kiss on the cheek.

  Abbie blushed and turned her head away from the windows. What was she thinking about that for? She didn't want to be married to anybody, especially not a man so much older than herself. She had no time even for a boyfriend, what with zipping all over the world to take care of wealthy people's children.

  Still, she couldn't stop imagining. What would it be like to meet a man coming home from work with a kiss and a hot meal? What would it be like being the comfort a man came home to at the end of a long day? What would it be like to call a condo like this home?

  She went back to her room, but when she got there, she found her suitcase still open on the bed. She put the last few things away and stood the empty suitcase in a corner when a strange thought nagged at her consciousness. She shouldn't presume, but curiosity devoured her until she couldn't resist. She parked the suitcase in the foyer, stole along the hall to the stairs, and tiptoed up them to the upper mezzanine above the kitchen.

  She found herself in another carpeted hall. A voice murmured down there somewhere. She followed the sound to a closed door. Malcolm's voice rose and fell beyond that door. She waited until it stopped before she knocked.

  “Come in.”

  She pushed the door open and peeked around the corner. Malcolm sat behind a big white table piled with papers and computers. He set his phone down. “Miss Townsend! Sorry, Abbie. What can I do for you?”

  “Sorry to bother you up here, Malcolm. I was just wondering if you could show me that storage area where you said I could put my suitcase....just so it's not cluttering up my room, you know.”

  He jumped out of his chair. “Of course! Sure. Let me just....” He trailed off shuffling papers around.

  Abbie looked around the office while she waited for him to do whatever he was doing. Filing cabinets and shelves of binders lined the walls. Computer screens surrounded his chair in a glowing arch. From what she could see, he didn't do anything more than move one stack of files from one side of his desk to the other before he came around the desk to join her. He gave her a big smile and guided her toward the door.

  “So this is where it all happens. Now you know I'm just a pencil-pusher like everyone else.”

  Abbie beamed back at him. “Master of the universe is more like it, I would say.”

  He blushed and led the way downstairs. “Hardly. I'm just a guy trying to make a living.”

  “You're doing a lot more than that. You're moving billions of dollars, aren't you? I'd say you're doing more than making a living.”

  “You're right. I want to do a lot more than that. The more you do, the more you want to do.”

  He reemerged into the entrance foyer and pushed the elevator button. He got his keys out of the dish, and when the elevator opened, he put his key in the same hole the doorman used. He pressed a button, and the car hummed away.

  While they rode downward, Abbie glanced over at him and found him glancing over at her at the same moment. They both immediately returned their eyes to the front, but Abbie's stomach turned a somersault. What was he looking at? What was she looking at? He was her boss. She had to keep her shorts on and not get flustered and stupid.

  The elevator opened on what looked at first like a garage. One giant open floor spread out before them. Large windows rose from floor to ceiling at the far end and offered the same view Abbie saw from the condo living room. Nothing else filled the place—no walls, no kitchen, nothing.

  Boxes and containers stacked on top of each other to fill one corner near the elevator. Malcolm stopped in front of the pile. “Anywhere in here is fine. As you can see, there's plenty of space. Help yourself.”

  Abbie set down her suitcase near the stack. “What is all this stuff?”

  He kicked a box of loose paper. “It's mostly junk, old school projects of Trina's, odds and ends from when I lived with her mother—all that sort of thing. I should get rid of it. It's not doing anything but taking up space down here.”

  Abbie flipped a box lid back. Reams of colorful drawings filled the box. She lifted out the first sheet and studied it. “Did Trina do this? It's very good.”

  He opened another box. “Yeah, she used to be really into art. She could sit and do nothing but draw all day long. Take a look.” He picked up a spiral bound notebook and held it out. “She hasn't done it in years. She gave that up along with everything else.”

  Abbie flipped the notebook pages. Beautiful, elaborate pictures and designs filled every page. Page upon page of complicated artwork left not one visible centimeter of white space on both sides of every page. “This is amazing.”

  Malcolm took the notebook out of her hands and pitched it back in the box. “I think you mean it was amazing. She doesn't do it anymore. The wonderful little girl who drew these doesn't exist anymore. Now all I've got left is that monster upstairs.”

  Abbie studied him. She could spend hours looking at those masterful drawings. Her hands itched to get hold of them again. For a fraction of an instant, she could look into the mind of the person who drew them. That person, that artist, remained imprisoned inside Trina's tortured soul. If only Abbie could find a way to free Trina from her torment, that artist could come to life again.

  Underneath Malcolm's frustrated bluster, Abbie sensed another tortured soul dying to breathe free. He called his daughter a monster and refused even to look at her old artwork. He grieved the loss of the little girl he loved. He wanted her back. He didn't want to face the cruel reality that Trina was in trouble.

  Malcolm t
urned away. “There you go. You can come and get your suitcase whenever you want, or you can bring more stuff down here.”

  “I'll need to borrow your key, though.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, that's no problem.”

  Abbie looked around the empty space. “What is this place, anyway?”

  “It's supposed to be another condo, but I haven't taken the time to develop it yet.”

  “You?”

  “I own it. I bought both floors. I thought I'd fix 'em both up and sell this one, but I haven't done it yet.”

  “What's stopping you? You seem like you can do pretty much whatever you want when you set your mind to it.”

  His face brightened. “You're right. I can. I would have to get rid of all that stuff first. I suppose that's what's stopping me.”

  There it was again. He couldn't move forward. He had to cling to the last vestige of his daughter's past. He couldn't get rid of her artwork. Abbie’s heart softened toward him, but she stopped herself from putting out her hand to touch him.

  His head whipped around and he caught her looking at him. “What?”

  She shook herself out of her reverie. “Nothing. Just listening.”

  He strode over to the big windows. “It could be a great condo.”

  “I guess it would be just as great as yours if you ever build it.”

  He cocked his head to look at her. “Do you think I should?”

  “Sure. Why not? If you want to, you should do it. I'm sure there are lots of places you could store Trina's stuff if you didn't want to get rid of it.”

  He frowned. “You're right. I never thought of that.”

  Abbie looked right and left. “So....do you want to go back upstairs? I know you're busy.”

  He scrutinized her closer. “I'm not too busy to....I mean, I'm enjoying talking to you. I don't get to talk to people much...I mean, I don't get to talk to people much about things besides business. I guess I don't get out much...I mean, I don't get out much to talk to people outside my work.....I mean, I....”

  Abbie laughed at him. “That's okay. I'm enjoying talking to you, too.”

  His eyes widened. “You are?”

  “Sure. You're a good conversationalist.”

  His face fell. “Oh.”

  “Okay. Remind me not to compliment you again.”

  “I didn't mean that. I just thought...well, I don't know what I thought.”

  “I'm getting a better idea of you and Trina's situation, but it's nice to talk about something besides her.”

  “You're right. I spend entirely too much time and energy thinking and worrying about her. That's why it's so interesting to talk about your book and your experiences. I haven't met anyone as interesting as you for a long time.”

  Now Abbie blushed. “Stop it. I'm nowhere near as interesting as you. You're a captain of capitalism. I'm just a nanny.”

  His cheeks turned red. “Don't call me that. I'll start to think you're flirting with me.”

  Abbie turned away. “I wouldn't want to do that.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He pulled her back so hard she took a stumbling step and wound up closer to him than she should have been. “Don't leave yet, Abbie. I don't want to go back upstairs yet.”

  She found herself looking at the fine grain of his clean-shaven face. His breath filled her head with dizzy butterflies. “Malcolm, I....”

  His mouth hovered close to hers. “You're a beautiful, interesting, captivating woman, Abbie. Don't say you're just a nanny. You're so much more than that.”

  She tried to draw back. “What are you doing, Malcolm?”

  The color flashed across his face, but his deep brown eyes burned into her soul. “I don't know what I'm doing. I only know I have to do it. I have to.”

  He leaned closer, but Abbie backed away against the hand gripping her arm. “Don't, Malcolm. You're my boss.”

  His voice murmured into her brain. “I have to. I need to. I need you. I don't know how I've lived my life all these years without this, but I won't do live like that anymore.”

  Before she could answer, his mouth closed over hers. Heady delirium swept her off her feet. She ought to struggle to get away from him. She just started working for him this morning. She was his nanny, his servant. She couldn't kiss him now.

  She couldn't tear herself away, though. She melted into his grasp. The quivery excitement burning through her guts thrilled her to her bones. Her knees wobbled, and delicious desire twinged her between the legs. His warm lips infused her with sweet arousal. His breath lit her on fire to respond to his attentions.

  He dragged her toward him with his great paw clutching her arm, and he pressed his other hand against her back. He crushed her breasts against his chest and awoke her latent dreams to intoxicating reality.

  His lips nudged her mouth open, and his tongue slithered inside. He licked moist kisses from her. His muscles hardened against her voluptuous breasts. His breath tensed in his nostrils, and he panted for air.

  Abbie stared up into his smoldering eyes. He glowered down at her, even as his mouth explored her in a sea of delicious saliva. He gave her back another determined press, and the bulge between his legs dug into her crotch. He squeezed a drizzle of juice from her snatch, and a quiet mew from her lips.

  All of a sudden, he dropped his hands and stepped back. “You're right. We shouldn't.”

  His absence left her cold and alone. She tasted his kiss on her lips and his prick hard and determined against her flesh. The fire he ignited inside her didn't die when he backed off. If anything, it blazed brighter than ever. It hungered for him against her better judgment.

  He nodded down at the floor. “I didn't mean any disrespect. It's just.....well, it's been a long time since any woman turned my head like you do. I guess I got a little carried away.”

  She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. What could she say? She couldn't say that's okay, I wanted it, too. She couldn't say that's okay, anytime is fine with me. She couldn't say anything.

  She followed him back to the elevator with her heart in her shoes. What was her life coming to, that she had to go kissing her boss in some deserted storage locker? She didn't even know this guy.

  The elevator carried them both back upstairs to the condo, but neither smiled or glanced at the other. They stared straight ahead, and when the doors opened in the foyer, Malcolm raced out and down the hall to the living room.

  Chapter 4

  Abbie hesitated in the hall outside her room. She should go in there, shut the door, and go to bed, but she didn't. It was only six-thirty in the evening. She couldn't resign in defeat. She waited until the sounds died out in the living room before she ventured there herself.

  She found Trina's empty plate in the dishwasher along with Malcolm's and her own. So Malcolm was right about that. Trina ate her dinner and put her plate away. Trina's bedroom door was closed.

  Abbie gazed out the windows at the city. A thousand thoughts and emotions tumbled in her mind. She didn't hear anything until Malcolm called out from the kitchen behind her. “Come over here, Abbie. Come and have a glass of wine with me.”

  She turned around to see him moving behind the counter. He took two glasses out of a cupboard and uncorked a bottle. She wandered over and sat on a bar stool. “You look happy. Did you just make a good trade or something?”

  He poured the glasses full with a chuckle. “I always make good trades, but I'm all done with work for tonight. How about you? Have you been working on your book?”

  “Not tonight. I've just been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  Abbie waved her hand over the condo. “About this place. About what it's going to be like to work here.”

  “And what's the verdict? Can you stand it?”

  “I think I might be able to stomach it for a little while.”

  “Great.” He set a wine glass in her hand and clinked it with his. “Here's to stomaching it for a little while. I promise not to make
it any more nauseating than it has to be by trying to kiss you again.”

  Abbie set her glass down. “Listen, Malcolm. Today is my first day working for you, so let's just get one thing clear.”

  He held up his hand. “Don't say it. I know what you're going to say. You're a professional, and what I did just now was about as unprofessional as you can get. I'm sorry, and I promise not to do it again.”

  “You don't have to apologize. I guess I wanted it as much as you did, and I guess I encouraged you the way I was looking at you in the elevator.”

  His head shot up. “You did? You wanted it as much as I did?”

  “Sure. You're a very attractive man. You're the most attractive man I've ever worked for, and you're a great kisser.”

  He glanced down at her mouth. “Did you like it?”

  “Of course I liked it. Couldn't you tell?”

  He stared down into his glass. “Well, I won't do it again...if you don't want me to, that is.”

  “Look, Malcolm. I might want you to. I might want a lot of things. That doesn't mean we should do them. I'm your nanny. I have a job to do here. It wouldn't work to get involved with you on the side.”

  He swirled his wine around his glass. “You're right, of course. That's how I know you're a professional. A professional wouldn't put up with that. It sure was nice while it lasted, though.”

  Abbie took a sip of her wine. “Yes, it was.”

  He sipped his wine in silence for a moment. “I suppose you have a lot of guys chasing after you. I guess you can have any guy you cast your eye on. You wouldn't want an old geezer like me.”

  “You're hardly a geezer, and I don't have a lot of guys chasing me. I don't have time. I'm always locked up in a room with some rich person's kids. I haven't had a boyfriend in five years. You're the first guy I've kissed in three years.”

  His mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

  “Sure.”

  He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Now that is what I call a tragedy. A woman like you should have dozens of guys falling at her feet. How do you stand the frustration? Don't you get lonely....and bored?”

  “I guess I stand the frustration the same way you do. I bury myself in my work, which only isolates me more. It's a disaster in the making.”