Mr. Fiancé

by Lauren Landish

  Mr. Fiancé

  Lauren Landish

  Edited by

  Valorie Clifton

  Contents

  Mr. Fiancé

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Preview: Anaconda

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Over the Middle

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Reckless

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Lauren Landish

  Copyright © 2017 by Lauren Landish.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © 2017 by Coverluv.

  Cover Model: Ryan Harmon.

  Photography by Eric Battershell.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Mr. Fiancé

  by Lauren Landish

  It’s fake, but it feels so good.

  Oliver Steele is supposed to be my knight in shining armor. He’s tall, handsome, and as cocky as he is rich. With his good looks and charm, no one’s going to suspect a thing. No one’s going to believe our engagement is fake.

  But he’s taking this thing way too far. The way he wraps his arm around me like I'm his. The way he kisses me and presses his hard body up against mine. I almost believe that it's real. Almost.

  He's doing it on purpose now; he loves that this is getting to me.

  Two can play his game, I won’t let him win. By the time our week together is done, I’ll leave Oliver on his knees and begging.

  But the minute we’re alone in the bedroom, I know I’m in over way my head. When he undresses me with his eyes, I realize I lost before the game even started. It’s only a matter of time before I lose myself in his touch and let him do whatever he wants to me.

  I know what I want, but I can’t tell what’s real anymore

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  Chapter 1

  Mindy

  “Can we get some service over here?” yells a woman who’s seated at one of the tables in the packed coffee house. “You girls are moving slow as molasses!”

  I slap the lids down on a couple of cups and place them in a cup holder before taking them over to the counter. I pause for a moment to dab the sweat from my brow with my apron, sighing. My feet ache from running back and forth during the early morning rush and I need a damn break.

  Jesus, I tell myself as I force a fraudulent smile on my face. This is the worst morning ever. It’s a blistering hot day in July. The A/C’s shoddy, it’s like 100 degrees outside, and it feels like I’m working in the fiery pits of hell. And to make matters worse, it’s a packed house and I’m running behind. I don’t know how much more of this madness I can take.

  “We’ll be right with you, ma’am!” I call out, flashing her an easy smile and a playful wink that hides my irritation. I ring up the order for a man standing at the front of the line and then send him on his way with his two iced coffees. He’s immediately replaced by another man, who spits out his order so fast I almost feel dizzy, barely catching it all. “We’re just running a little behind schedule this morning.”

  “Bullshit!” the woman snaps, glowering at the line of people in front of me. She’s a well-kept, middle-aged blonde with an immaculate short hairdo, garbed in fur-trimmed designer clothes that go along with her snobby attitude. “There’s three of you back there, yet I’ve been waiting for over ten minutes for my frap.” She shakes her head, practically frothing at the mouth. “It’s ridiculous!”

  A lump of anger forms in my throat. I quickly swallow it back, glancing to the sky. Dear God, give me the strength!

  I grit my teeth, my eyes cutting off to the side where the equipment is. I see Cassie, one of my employees, taking her sweet ass time blending something. She’s acting like we don’t have customers piling up out the ass. Throwing her long, brown hair back, she takes in a deep yawn as if she’s tired from working so hard. If she weren’t new, I’d chew her out.

  I shake my head.

  At least she looks nice enough in our new uniform, a blue skirt that shows a lot of leg, with a white V-necked T-shirt with Beangal’s Den printed over the chest. But looking cute and pretty doesn’t mean shit to me if you’re not getting work done.

  Sighing, I look around for Sarah, my other employee, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

  Figures, I say to myself. One disappears on me, and the other is moving slower than a snail. Why did I want to be the manager of this place again?

  “Ma’am,” I say as politely as I can manage, turning my eyes back on her. I signal to the waiting customer that I’ll be with him in a moment. “I understand your frustration with having to wait, but there’s no need for that language. There are kids in here.” I pause and add, “However, I promise that once you try our world-famous Tiger Caramel Frappuccino, you’ll forget all about the wait. It’s just that good.” I flash her another smile and a wink, hoping to defuse the situation.

  “Ha! We’ll see! But if your service weren’t so damn bad, we wouldn’t have a problem,” the woman hotly retorts, ignoring my peace-making attempt and looking as if she’s ready for a fight.


  I clench my hands, biting back a sharp response that instantly forms on my lips. Usually, I can handle even the most disgruntled customer with my charm, but this one seems immune to it. And she’s testing my patience.

  Taking a deep breath, I draw myself up, then speak in calm, even tones. “Ma'am, if you can’t watch your language, I’m going to have to kindly ask that you leave.”

  Steeling myself, I wait for her to challenge me. But surprisingly, she just grumbles, muttering something nasty under her breath as she looks away.

  I sigh in relief. I was half-expecting to have to call hotel security to deal with this one.

  For the next five minutes, I go back to frantically taking and filling orders. I have to stop three times to tell Cassie to pick up the pace. It does little good. If anything, she moves slower, like she’s silently protesting having to work hard.

  Dammit. I just don’t have the time to get on Cassie's ass right now. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sarah weren’t MIA.

  It just so happens that as soon as the rush of customers is gone, Sarah reappears from the back.

  “Where on earth have you been?” I gasp, setting down a tray I’ve brought over from an empty table on the counter. “We’ve been slammed out here! I’m doing three people’s jobs!”

  The twenty-year-old short brunette with dimples normally has a penchant for being overzealous about her job. She shakes her head as her eyes fall on Cassie. “I bet. She was probably up all night screwing Brad’s brains out.” I hold in a groan. Sarah loves to get digs in against Cassie whenever she can. I ignore responding to the bait as Sarah looks back to me. “I’m sorry, Mindy. I was just having a little trouble back there.”

  I frown with confusion. “What kind of trouble?”

  Sarah tilts her head to the side, biting her lower lip. “Well, uh, my tampon—”

  “TMI!” I say, cutting her off and looking around fearfully, hoping no one heard what she just said. “Jesus, Sarah,” I hiss quietly, “what are you trying to do, scare our customers away?”

  Sarah blushes, her cheeks turning a rosy red. “Sorry!”

  I shake my head, gently grabbing her by the shoulders and guiding her toward the dining area. “Never mind that. I need your help. There’s like five tables that need to be cleaned off and wiped down, and I need a few supplies from the back.”

  Sarah nods dutifully, wiping her hands on her apron and making her way over to the messy tables. “On it, Boss!”

  I sigh and shake my head as I watch her nearly run into a customer on her way. A pulsing ache runs down my side as I lean against the counter for support. I really don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of the day. The stress of running this place is getting to me lately. In fact, ever since I became the operating manager of Beangal’s Den, I’ve been overworked and tired. Sure, I’m making more money than I ever have, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even worth it.

  I work so much now that I have no social life. The vibrant small-town girl who wouldn’t hesitate to give a wild bull a run for his money has been replaced by an old maid. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been with a guy and let him do the . . .

  A buzz at my side and a Taylor Swift ringtone of We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together interrupt my thoughts. Grumbling, I pull my cell out of my pocket and glance around the cafe to make sure things aren’t getting back out of hand before I answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Mindy, my dear!” my mother’s voice greets me in a singsong tone.

  I hold in a groan. I love my mom dearly, but she’s the last one I want to hear from right now. She always gives me a headache with her constant picking. “Mother,” I reply cordially.

  “My God, Mindy,” she complains with a sniff, “we haven’t talked in weeks. Can you sound any unhappier to hear from me?”

  I knew I shouldn’t have answered.

  I try my best to keep my tone even. “Sorry, Mom. I’m just working right now. Can I call you back after my shift?”

  “No,” she replies flatly. “This is important.”

  I try not to sigh out loud. “Okay, Mom. You have two minutes before—”

  A piercing shriek interrupts my words and I jump in surprise. I turn around to see Cassie wiping coffee off her chest at the counter. Luckily, she’d only gotten it on herself and not a customer. I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do with this chick.

  “What the hell was that?” my mom demands on the other end of the line.

  I pull away from the counter, shaking my head. Then I walk around, grab a towel from a shelf, and hand it over to Cassie. “Nothing,” I reply. “Just the background noise of the cafe.”

  “It sounded like a dying cat.”

  Can’t argue with that.

  “There was something important you wanted to tell me,” I remind her, getting back on point.

  “I’m getting married next week,” my mom announces, dropping the bomb on me without warning.

  My jaw drops and my heart skips a beat at her words. While I’ve been expecting this, it still feels like a shock. After the heartbreak of Dad’s sudden death during my senior year of high school, Mom swore on her grandmother’s grave that she’d never marry again . . . until she met John Wentworth, a multi-millionaire businessman.

  Unfortunately, I’ve heard more about John’s status than anything else about him. During their courtship, it was almost all she talked about.

  John has this, and John has that. John bought me this and John bought me that. And one of my favorites, ‘Do I need to remind you how much John is worth?’ It’s a line she likes to pull out whenever I dare question the dynamics of her relationship. I swear, I think the only reason she’s doing this is because he’s loaded.

  Still, despite my misgivings on the authenticity of their relationship, now is not the time to voice my displeasure or doubts. This is her happy moment, and whether I like it or not, I need to be supportive.

  “Mom, that’s wonderful!” I say in the most joyful tone I can manage.

  “Isn’t it?” Mom says proudly. “It’s going to be absolutely gorgeous. He’s already rented out the venue too. A grand ballroom that sits on the shore with breathtaking views of the ocean.”

  “Gee, Mom, that sounds great. I’m so happy for you!”

  There’s a short pause and my mother’s voice drops a few octaves. “And I want you to come.”

  I pause, glancing around the busy cafe. Cassie’s finally gotten most of the coffee off her shirt, although there is a giant stain on it, and is taking a man’s order. Meanwhile, Sarah’s busting her ass, bringing the sitting patrons their fraps. She’s looking pretty worn-out herself.

  “Mom . . . I don’t know,” I say slowly, not wanting to upset her. “This is a little out of the blue. With my work schedule and all, I don’t know if . . .”

  I hear her sharp intake of breath. “Are you kidding me right now, Mindy Isabella Price? I’m your mother, the most important person in your life and the one who gave birth to—”

  “You’re right!” I say quickly. If I don’t head that off, I’ll be here until next week listening to her tell me how she was in labor with me for thirty-seven hours and that I owe her the universe. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I’ll be there.”

  “You need to take at least a week off,” Mom adds.

  “A week—” I began to protest. Dear God, with Cassie and Sarah running things? They’ll burn the place down.

  “Yes, a week! Everyone’s going to be there. Your sister, your cousin, and your aunt. Your grandmother.”

  I open my mouth to argue but then shut it with a snap. It’s a fool’s errand. My mother has a head harder than granite sometimes. Shaking my head, I bite my lower lip, thinking. Damn, she drives a hard bargain.

  But the more I think about taking a week off, the more I begin to like the idea. I haven’t seen my little sister, Roxy, in forever. Same for my cousin Layla, Aunt Rita, and Grandma Ivy Jo. It sure would be nice to ta
ke a break from this mess to relax and chill with the fam.

  “I can do that,” I say finally, feeling more at ease. “It’ll be so good to see you and the family again.”

  Heaven help Cassie and Sarah.

  “It sure will,” Mom agrees. “Roxy has been asking about you non-stop.”

  A grin plays across my lips as I think about my younger sister. At twenty-one, Roxy’s young, dumb, and full of fun. Basically, an even more smartassed and sassier version of myself.

  But my Mom’s next words take me out of my reverie and hit me like a lightning bolt. “And I expect you to bring your fiancé.”

  “My fiancé?” I ask with a croak when I can finally find my voice.

  “Yes! You know, Harold. Tall. Handsome. Rich. Good in bed. The one you’ve been bragging to me about for the past year.” She lets out a little laugh. “Roxy’s been dying to meet him . . . and so have I.”

  Shit, shit, shit!

  I pause, the phone pressed against my ear, my mind racing in panic.

  That lie. I should’ve known it would come back to bite me in the ass. I’m not one for long-term relationships, and I got sick of Mom trying to set me up with some man back at home she wanted me to meet. Knowing her, probably a son of one of John’s friends. I got tired of it, so I told her I was engaged to get her off my back.

  Stupid me.

  I suck in a deep breath, about to tell her the truth, but I stop. There’s no way I can admit that I was lying for the past year and show up at her wedding without a man. Absolutely no way. By now, everyone in the family has heard about my fiancé, Harold, and mom is going to be overly dramatic if I fess up now. Besides, she’s getting married. She doesn’t need to hear that I lied.

  “Mindy?”

  “I—” I began to say, not knowing how I’m going to get out of this one. At that exact moment, Brianna Adams, my best friend and ex-partner in crime—and now part-owner of the Beangal’s Den—walks through the door, her adorable little boy, Rafe, balanced expertly on her right hip.