© Copyright 2016 by (Amanda Horton) – All Rights reserved. In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this document is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with writer permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publishers.
Fake Marriage With the CEO
A Billionaire Romance
By: Amanda Horton
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Details can be found at the end of the story.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Bonus Contents
NOVELLA SAMPLE
SHORT STORY
Chapter One
The decrepit building was an inspector’s worst nightmare, but Miranda, who stood across the pavement to look up at it, couldn’t have been happier. “Perfect.” She shaded her eyes, stepping back to get a better look at the two-story red-bricked building.
Kyle snorted. “You said ‘old building’. This is a dump.”
Miranda’s boyfriend, Kyle had the physique of a gym rat, a beguiling confidence and a wicked sense of humor. But he definitely wasn’t enjoying the moment, sweating profusely and standing under the unbearable sun in his tailor-made suit.
She winced. Kyle had no idea how hard it was to find affordable real estate in New York. It must have been a glorious sight in its heyday but now it just resembled a discarded shoe box. Nothing could, however, overturn the dream that was becoming more vivid even in front of the derelict. Trying to convince him, Miranda said, “It has potential.”
“Potential for disaster,” he muttered.
Miranda frowned. Buoyed by a text message from the building owner telling her that the lease was hers, she’d impulsively invited Kyle to visit the site with her. She thought bringing Kyle along might make him more receptive to her dream. Suddenly that didn’t seem like such a good idea. He always considered it inane. The catering part was fine with him, but he couldn’t understand her desire to combine the venture with a soup kitchen. “It’s big enough to hold both a catering business and a soup kitchen,” she remarked.
Kyle sneered. “I didn’t realize you were still on that Mother Teresa crusade. But you’re right. That dump should match perfectly with all those hobos you so desperately want to serve.”
Miranda felt a spike of annoyance. “I’ve told you how important the soup kitchen is to me — oh, never mind. Stay here while I take a quick look inside.”
She approached the door and eyed it suspiciously. Hanging at a jaunty angle, it looked just about ready to fall. She gave a tentative push. The door creaked open. Miranda stepped inside the gloomy interior where tiny dust specks danced in the sunlight streaming through the window of the hollow shell. She gagged with the sudden smell of potent urine. With the heady odor came memories of months spent in Lagos, her home following her deportation from America.
Lagos, in Nigeria, was a city where two-thirds of its population lived in poverty. She’d gambled all she had on building a future in the States. With no money to start any business, Miranda had nothing to look forward to but a miserable future battling for necessities. Those were memories she’d rather forget.
“That’s over now,” she spoke firmly to herself. She wasn’t going to dwell on those dark days. “I’m back in New York. Noelle didn’t forget me.”
Even with the sound of New York’s incessant traffic passing by outside, the memory of being hailed by an official from the Nigerian embassy with news that her visa had been approved and a private jet was waiting to take her back to New York seemed like a dream. Miranda braced for the pain of waking up. But when the Gulf Stream landed at JFK airport, Noelle was there waiting for her with her husband, Hunter Blackwell, by her side.
“I’m alright now.” Miranda forced her attention back to her surroundings. “And that’s why I’m here today.”
This — her dream — had been the only thing that kept her going when the over-crowded, suffocating Lagos slums had been too much. She took a closer look at the end of the building. There was something different about this wall at the end. Two symmetrical, matching planks formed part of that back wall. Upon closer inspection, Miranda realized it wasn’t just a wall but another door.
She pushed against the plank which gave way instantly. Miranda stumbled through the door and gasped. Even in the dim light she immediately recognized it.
A kitchen!
A tiled countertop ran the whole length of one side of the room with a metal sink and an old-fashioned kitchen faucet in its center. On one side were two narrow openings, jutting away from the wall, the perfect size for a stove and a refrigerator. Just above those empty spaces were shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling. Three vintage lamps hung from above, positioned to create the most illumination. The tiled floor still had indentations from where a big table used to be.
Miranda shook her head, but the kitchen didn’t vanish. She wasn’t imagining it. “Oh, my God! This is the sign I’ve been hoping for.”
A smile creased her face, only to disappear as a loud horn from outside broke her daydream. She had almost forgotten all about Kyle.
Kyle had taken refuge inside his car with the engine running. Miranda quickly climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’m taking it,” she announced.
Kyle shook his head and glanced at the dilapidated structure. His nostrils flared in disgust.
Miranda felt her heart sink. “C’mon, Kyle. Throw me a bone here.”
Kyle gave a long drawn out sigh. “I just don’t understand you. Who wants to spend their time fraternizing with – with homeless people? Your job at the restaurant with the Senator’s wife? Now, that is what I call potential. You’ll get to meet celebrities and people with power. Your friend, Noelle, can bring in that kind of clientele for your catering business. Why gamble and add a soup kitchen into the mix? People who live on the streets are like leeches. They’ll never leave you alone once they get a freebie.”
Miranda blinked. Her hands broke into a sweat, her heart in overdrive. She cast a look at him out of the corner of her eye. With every word Kyle spoke, he came dangerously close to quashing her dream. If he knew why... but how can I tell him?
Kyle glanced toward her, and his expression softened. “As it happens, I want to talk about us.” He placed his hand over hers. “Do you like me?”
Miranda felt her mouth go dry. “Of course!”
“‘You trust me?”
“Y-yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
Kyle looked her straight in the eyes. “I feel like you have a secret and you don’t trust me, even after all the time that we’ve spent together.”
Miranda said nothing. She couldn’t look up, ashamed to meet Kyle’s gaze.
“So, I was right. There is something.”
“I’m sorry.” Miranda found her voice at last. “I’m — well, I’m afraid. If you knew my past, you wouldn’t feel the same about me.”
“Miranda.” Kyle squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you. I love you.”
M
iranda was silent. I’ve heard that before — believed it, too. Did she dare trust Kyle? She turned, meeting his concerned gaze. Miranda realized that she had no choice. If I don’t trust him now, I never will. “You mean that?”
Kyle’s smile was cocky. “Try me.”
Miranda took a deep breath. “You mentioned Noelle and how she started me on the restaurant industry?” As Kyle nodded, she continued, “I told you she saved my life. I mean that literally.” She paused. “When Noelle found me I was living on the streets—”
“You were...homeless?”
Miranda winced. She kept her gaze on their entwined fingers, knowing that if she looked up she would risk losing her nerve. I must do this. Otherwise I’ll never know for certain how far his feelings go. “I spent several months on the streets. I had to scavenge to survive — it wasn’t pretty, or easy. But I had nowhere else to go. My family—”
“I can’t believe this.”
Miranda’s head whipped up.
Kyle’s handsome face was distorted with disgust. He dropped her hand as if it was polluted. He exited the car. “I wanted to introduce you to my boss.” As Miranda climbed/stepped out of the car, his lip curled. “A street bum? I’d be a laughing stock!”
Miranda was glad for the vehicle that separated them. Disillusionment and anger was a formidable combination. She felt capable of murder. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to be with your kind of person.”
Kyle glared at her. His handsome face was an angry red. “I was planning to ask you to marry me! My god — I could have married a hobo!”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “You can’t talk about hobos! I’ve seen your apartment before your cleaning lady arrives. And having lived on the streets, I’d prefer being homeless to living with you.”
“No wonder you kept it a secret. All this time, I wondered about your frivolous dream of a soup kitchen. But now I get it. You can’t let go of who you really are. A lowlife at heart. You’ll never find a guarantor crazy enough to support your stupid idea.”
“A lowlife is nothing compared to the callous pig that you are. You care more about your possessions than about people.” Miranda dug his apartment key out of her purse. She tossed it across the car to him. “Strip away your car and your expensive suit, and you’re nothing.” She whipped around, striding down the street with her head held high.
Kyle yelled after her, but Miranda didn’t turn back. She shook with fury, her hands formed/clenched into tight fists. I’ll show you. She’d find a guarantor for her loan, and make a success of her combined business. Then you’ll see — you and all the assholes like you.
***
Miranda stepped into the courtyard of the Blackwell Building still fuming over Kyle. The sight of NOELLE’S eased the storm in her heart. Seeing the cafe in its ultra-chic location still gave her a feeling of pride. The Blackwell building housed more than a dozen corporations. Noelle Mancini, now Mrs. Hunter Blackwell, had no second thoughts when Hunter offered the location to them. With Noelle and Hunter on an extended vacation in the Bahamas, Miranda was currently in charge of the establishment.
As she walked toward the cafe, her reflection walked with her. A striking woman wearing bright colors better suited to the quirky neighborhood location of the old building. Admittedly, she missed the nondescript side street where the café used to be. They had abandoned the old name, “Eats Well”, for a more modern upgrade. The restaurant was now known simply as “NOELLE’S” with the name written in brass. It was an immediate hit.
Noelle quipped that it was her notoriety that drew the crowd in. Who wouldn’t be curious about the unknown Italian beauty that managed to capture the heart of the playboy billionaire whose election to the senate was the result of a massive outcry from the citizens of New York City itself?
As Miranda stepped inside, she immediately calmed down. It might be Noelle’s notoriety that drew them in, but anyone who tasted her cooking would keep coming back. Noelle was like the sister Miranda never had. Not only had she supported Miranda through the darkest period in her life, but she also approved of Miranda’s desire to establish her own catering business. Miranda knew that Noelle would share her enthusiasm for combining a soup kitchen with the catering business she dreamed about.
She walked past the dining area, casting a practiced eye over the whole establishment. The front servers were working hard, as usual. She entered a hallway, passing the modern kitchen where the sound decibel was at bedlam level. Smiling, Miranda pushed open the doorway leading to her office. Bedlam was a good sign. It meant that the staff was on their toes, ready to feed the hungry horde.
“Is everything alright?” Lexi looked up from her desk as Miranda entered.
Miranda plastered a bright smile onto her face. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Lexi stood in front of Miranda. “Kyle called fifteen minutes ago to say that you shouldn’t bother about your stuff at his apartment. He was sending it over by courier, and said that he never wanted to see you again.
Miranda swallowed. “I’m through with him — and the feeling’s evidently mutual.”
“The jackass wasn’t good enough for you anyway,” Lexi said immediately.
“A complete jerk,” Miranda agreed. She paused, noticing Lexi’s desk. “What’s with the tissues? You’re not sick, are you?”
Lexi shook her head. “You know me — healthy as the horse. I figured you might need them.” She watched Miranda closely. “I’ve got chocolate, too.”
“Now you’re talking.” Miranda sat at her desk, watching Lexi pull a block of chocolate from her bag.
Lexi handed the chocolate over. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. But—”
“But you’re dying to know.” Miranda smirked, and then sighed. “There’s nothing to tell. I told Kyle about my past. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
Lexi’s face fell. “The scumbag! If I ever see him—”
“Don’t give him a second thought.” Miranda snapped a segment of chocolate from the bar. “He’s not worth it.”
Lexi looked sad. “You’ll find a man who loves you — really loves you—”
“Ha!” Miranda couldn’t suppress an apprehensive snort. “I’ve spent too long believing in that daydream. It’s time I faced the facts. Love is just not for me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Miranda shook her head. “Love has never brought me anything but misery. Mom was always falling in and out of love, pursuing a dream. Each relationship was worse than the last. Then she brought me to America. Her obsession with love almost ruined my own life.” And dwelling more on it only brought back memories of the humiliation and shame she experienced from her stepdad.
“Miranda...,” Lexi’s voice trembled, “I’m so sorry for what you went through. But you can’t let your past hold you back.”
“It’s too late.” Miranda smiled sadly. “Kyle’s not the first to leave once he discovered how... damaged I am.” Her mouth twisted. As soon as men had an inkling of her past, they hurried to leave and never come back. “Unconditional love is just not for me.”
“Don’t say that!” Lexi was on her feet immediately. “You’re being unfair to yourself thinking that way.”
“I’m a realist,” Miranda shot back. “And I’m sick of being hurt.”
Lexi hesitated. “I worry about you, Miranda. I just want you to be happy.”
Miranda nodded. Lexi’s willingness to go above and beyond the role of assistant was what got her the job. She was never too busy to help the other staff or give advice. Miranda took a deep breath and found a smile. “I know. I’m such a loser. I think it’s time I focused on the true love of my life — the one I know will never let me down.”
“True love?” Lexi blinked.
Miranda took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “Cooking. It’s never disappointed me. If a recipe doesn’t work, I can throw it away or tweak it until it comes up perfect. You can’t do that with people, certainly n
ot with men.”
Lexi stared at her boss in silence. Then her mouth twitched. “Is that why I saw you sweet talking the mesclun yesterday? And when you tasted the Pasta Primavera, I swear you did a jig — or was that a waltz?”
“I did no such thing,” Miranda protested, then saw the mischievous look on the girl’s face. “Lexi!”
She roared with laughter. “Honestly, the chef has a beef to settle with you. I told him the guests can tell if you did the preparation or if he did. They say yours tastes better.”
“It’s the same recipe, I swear.” Miranda blinked as she realized something. “That’s what I mean. It’s my heart and soul that they taste. I can always trust my cooking never to let me down — unlike men.”
“Yeah, but you can’t cuddle a plate of pasta.”
“But pasta doesn’t dump you for having a shitty past,” Miranda retorted. She headed for her desk, coming to a sudden halt. “I almost forgot. I found the most perfect spot for my catering business. I swear, it’s ideal. It has a kitchen at the back, and it’s huge! I can actually combine the soup kitchen idea with the business I’ve always dreamed about.”
Fake Marriage with the CEO (A Billionaire Romance) Page 1
