Fake Marriage with the CEO (A Billionaire Romance)

by Amanda Horton

  Diane watched her sympathetically. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. You were collateral damage in Bruce’s quest to put Wolfe down. He could never accept that Wolfe always treated him like an outsider.”

  “It’s okay,” Miranda replied. “I really thought that that was the end of Dream Kitchen. I prepared myself for the worst. But surprisingly, the opposite happened. We have more customers than we can cope with. I’ve even had to turn down a few because we’re swamped. It's weird.”

  Diane’s eyes sparkled. “Is that really so weird?”

  Miranda stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  Diane smiled. “You think Wolfe would allow something like that to happen? He probably called up everyone he knew and recommended you. My son is a powerful man, Miranda. People would gladly do him favors.”

  Miranda stared down at her plate, trying to absorb that information. Diane was right. That was the only plausible explanation. But why? She was no longer part of Wolfe’s life. Why did he even care?

  Miranda looked at the woman sitting across the table from her and knew. It’s time to come clean. “I haven’t been totally honest with you and I feel I should be.”

  Diane raised a brow and waited for her to continue.

  Miranda took a deep breath. “Wolfe and I, we weren’t really together-together, like you thought we were. The whole engagement was a sham. He said he needed my help to pose as his fiancée so you would turn over your shares of the company to him. He was afraid that Bruce would get his hands on them somehow. He was worried about Bruce taking advantage of you.”

  Miranda expected Diane to react with anger. Instead, she was surprised to hear her tinkling laughter.

  “Miranda, I don’t know what kind of story my son was feeding you, but I can tell you for a fact, that where Wolfe was concerned, the engagement was real. I know my son, and I know he is far too private to want to tie himself, even in a business sense, to anyone he doesn’t admire.”

  Miranda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “B-but-but… Why did he say it then?”

  Diane reached out, clasping her hand tightly. “I don't claim to know everything that happened between the two of you. Wolfe is not the kind of man who opens himself to anyone, even to his own mother. I can only watch and make my own conclusions. And I can tell you that since you left, my son is falling apart. He pretends everything is alright when I ask. But I can tell. Call it a mother’s instinct.” Diane sighed. “I went to visit him at his apartment. The kitchen was a mess. There were broken eggshells everywhere. My son was trying to cook. I knew then that he was trying to hold on to the connection you both shared.”

  Miranda expelled a loud breath. Her body twitched involuntarily. “There’s more.” She paused to gather her strength, finding it hard to breathe. “I went back to see Collins, the lawyer who drew up our engagement agreement. I intended to return the ring. The terms of our contract clearly stated I should surrender any jewelry if things didn’t work out. Collins refused to accept the ring. He said Wolfe had torn up the contract.” She still didn’t know what to make of the lawyer’s words. “And now I’m more confused than ever.”

  Looking up, she saw comprehension slowly dawn on Diane’s face. “You’re not doing so well either. No, don’t bother to deny it. A mother can tell.”

  Miranda felt her eyes well up with tears. Diane might not be her mother, or even her mother-in-law, but she could feel the woman’s honest concern. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Listen to me, Miranda. Go talk to Wolfe. I have a feeling there’s something more to all of this. Things are not always what they seem to be.”

  Anticipation blossomed in her chest. Despite it all, she still had hope. “You think so?”

  Diane nodded. “I happen to know he called in sick today—a first, as it happens—so he should be in his apartment...if you decide to talk to him.”

  Miranda stood up, fumbling with her napkin. She knew she had to do this. Even if this was the last time she saw Wolfe, even if the sight of him hurt like nothing had ever hurt her before, she had to go. One way or another, she needed an explanation for the devastation he’d wrought in her heart and soul.

  Chapter Twelve

  If visiting Wolfe’s apartment was a crime that Miranda was on trial for, she couldn’t have felt less prepared—or guiltier. As she approached his apartment building, she ran through a gamut of plausible excuses for showing up unexpectedly, weighing them as if she were a member of a jury.

  I’ll say I’ve come to get some of my stuff and hope to god he asks me to stay... or maybe I’ll just say I missed him. But what if he didn't miss me at all? Miranda winced. I’ll die. No, better to play it casual. I’ll say I was in the area and thought about him and just decided on impulse to drop by. But then he’ll know I’m lying—I don't know anyone living in Upper Manhattan!

  Miranda shook her head. There had been enough lies. I want to talk to him and learn the truth. That should be reason enough.

  As she pressed the button to summon the elevator, her heart thrummed with eagerness and anticipation even as her stomach sank. All her misgivings returned in full force.

  You are your own worst enemy, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. Deep down you don’t believe you deserve to be treated with love. That’s why you ran from Wolfe without hearing his explanation. But if you don’t believe in yourself, nothing will ever change.

  Miranda pursed her lips. The elevator doors opened and she gulped, realizing she was already at the penthouse. Walking down the hallway towards his door felt like an eternity. Her first soft knock brought no response. She rapped again, louder, and rang the doorbell.

  She waited for any sign of life inside, her heart in her throat. She didn’t know how long she stood there, but to her, it felt like ages. What am I doing? I don’t even know if he wants to see me... or that he won’t feed me more lies. Abruptly, her courage failed. She turned to go—just as the latch clicked and the door opened.

  “Miranda?” Wolfe exclaimed. He obviously wasn’t expecting a visitor. He wore drawstring pajamas and was barefoot, his hair was tousled like he just got out of bed.

  Miranda was unprepared to see him in that state. The speech she’d rehearsed in her mind went screaming down the hallway. She bit back panic. Now or never. “I—I was wondering if someone was home. I was about to leave. I know I didn't call to say I was coming. That was so stupid of me...I should have called... because-because you might be busy and not want to see me...and I totally understand...but I took the risk you may want to see me after all…”

  “Miranda, stop.” Wolfe held the door open wider. “Come in, please.”

  Miranda wondered if her legs would carry her all the way to the sofa. Thankfully they did. She plopped her quaking body onto the luxurious cushions. Wolfe took a seat across from her, and she felt a surge of disappointment. She’d expected him to at least sit closer. Are we truly over?

  Wolfe sat with his legs apart, stroking his chin. It seemed like he couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

  Miranda looked down. She couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Wolfe broke the silence.

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  Wolfe headed for the kitchen. Miranda looked around the apartment. Memories of nights spent on that same sofa, held in Wolfe’s arms came flooding back. Despite everything she knew, she still longed for his embrace. She pushed the thought aside as he returned, carrying a bottle and two flutes.

  Miranda recognized the unopened bottle of Dom Perignon. It was the same one he brought back the night he said they were celebrating. The night she got angry instead and stormed out of the room. Why had Wolfe kept it?

  Wolfe opened the bottle and filled both flutes before offering one to her. “I never thought I’d find a reason to open this.”

  Miranda took a sip of the bubbly liquid and immediately felt its calming effect throughout her body. She found her courage. “Are we celebrating somethi
ng?”

  Wolfe raised his glass in a toast. “You’re here. I’m here. That’s reason enough for me.”

  Miranda heaved a sigh and began. “I came to apologize for the way I ended things between us. Finding that file made me feel so exposed—so exploited. Reading through it made me remember things I’d rather forget. I felt like all my secrets were aired for the world to see. I don’t understand why you did that, or why Simms made a secret offer to buy the building from Mr. Thompson. Did you do that to manipulate me into the fake engagement?” She paused to let him reply.

  He didn’t make a sound.

  She decided to keep going.

  “I went to see Collins to return the ring. He said you destroyed all the agreements I signed. I don’t understand that either.”

  Still no word from the man who sat across from her. Miranda felt he was letting her air her feelings without disrupting her thoughts.

  “I went to see Diane after I read about the divorce. She told me that Bruce was trying to sabotage your company. She said he was responsible for what happened the night of the party. Diane apologized. I said it was alright because strangely enough, we have been swamped with requests for our service. Diane hinted that was you... because you will not allow anything to destroy my dream.” She looked at him, searching for any reaction.

  He simply stared back, waiting for her to finish.

  “I confessed to Diane that our engagement was a sham, telling her you thought it was the only way she’d turn over her shares to you and keep it safe from Bruce. Diane insisted there was no way you’d agree to the engagement purely for the shares. All this ... it just makes me more and more confused about you. Make me understand. Tell me one good reason why you did all these things. Please, Wolfe.”

  The atmosphere in the room was electric. Wolfe straightened and looked her straight in the eye.

  “Because I love you.”

  Miranda was stunned. She expected a circuitous explanation. Not a simple declaration of love.

  Wolfe exhaled noisily before he spoke. “I am truly sorry about the dossier you found in my office. It wasn't meant to hurt you, and I didn’t consider the consequences of me spying on you. I was simply desperate. The night we first met at the Center, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I tossed and turned all night trying to understand what I was going through. I never felt that way before. I was confused and afraid that I wouldn’t see you again. I had no road map to follow because all those feelings were foreign to me, and I acted... I acted as if you were a business rival. I apologize for my own stupidity. I’ve already destroyed the file, and I ordered Simms to delete any records he had left.”

  Miranda was still in shock. She stared at him with mouth open.

  Wolfe hung his head. “I lied about the shares to make you think I needed your help. I didn't plan the engagement or the fake marriage. It popped into my head when you came to see me at the office. I had to be sure you would accept, so I asked Simms to make that offer to the old man. I had to find a way to keep you near me because I was afraid you’d reject me if I told you how I felt. I’m sorry I manipulated you, for no better reason than protecting my own heart.”

  He looked up, hesitantly seeking her eyes. “As for Collins destroying the document, I realized I didn't need it. It doesn't prove anything. I know how I feel about you and no agreement will ensure that I will have what my heart desires. And my heart only wants you, Miranda. From the way I’ve treated you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. I love you.”

  Her whole world had done a ninety degree turn. Every word Wolfe spoke sent her spinning. She wasn’t even sure this wasn't just a dream. She wanted to pinch herself but couldn’t because her limbs had calcified in shock.

  “Miranda, are you alright?” Wolfe asked. His expression was worried. He reached for the glass of champagne and placed it over her lips.

  Miranda automatically opened her mouth and took a sip.

  “Are you alright?” Wolfe asked a second time.

  Miranda was silent. She thought back to her feelings as she’d discovered the file. Worse than the betrayal had been the shame. He’d uncovered the past she tried to hide... But he’d never once made any allusion to it. Even now, he knew ... And he stood before her, anticipating her rejection. He knew all about the darkness in her past. Did I hear right? Miranda looked up at him. “Can you say that again?”

  “Which part?”

  “The part where you said you loved me.”

  Wolfe’s eyes darkened. “I love you, Miranda—and if you can’t forgive me for everything I did, I understand.”

  A vast dark obstruction inside Miranda slowly vanished. She remembered his pride as he’d announced their engagement before his friends and family. The way his voice had trembled as he talked about being desperate to save something so important. It wasn’t the company he was talking about. It was her.

  She could no longer ignore the evidence to the contrary. It was all there staring her in the face. The tiny voice at the back of her head, the one that insisted love was not for the broken, had gone silent, completely outweighed by the sight of him standing before her, his anguish naked in his eyes.

  “I forgive you. I love you too, Wolfe.”

  Wolfe stared at her. His shock slowly gave way to a look of utter happiness. He reached out, pulling her close with arms that trembled.

  The warmth of his body thawed the last traces of Miranda’s own shock. Her arms immediately snaked around his neck, as she held him close. She never wanted to let go—and now, she never would.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wolfe stared at his fiancée across the table of New York’s exclusive Aureole restaurant. “Are you sure this is what you want? You know I can give you a wedding most women only dream of. A cathedral in Rome, Santorini in Greece, even the Eiffel tower in Paris. I’ll buy you any wedding dress you desire, have flowers flown in from Switzerland... And yet, you only want this?”

  Miranda nodded vigorously. It was clear from her expression that her mind was made up.

  He shook his head. “I thought all girls started planning the most expensive wedding possible the moment they left the womb.”

  She giggled. “Nope, not true. This is what I really want.”

  He realized he was beaten. All she had to do was laugh like that, and he would cave, every single time. But for appearances sake, he still demurred. “You know, of course, that Mom will freak?”

  “She doesn’t have to know. It will be just you, me and...them.” Miranda’s eyes sought his. “Diane won’t be coming back from Ibiza anytime soon. We can have a lavish wedding when she gets back. I’ll let her take care of everything, from the church to the guest list. She can even choose my wedding dress if that will make her happy. I’ll just show up in the church.”

  Wolfe felt his last reservations ease. There was nothing his mother would adore more than producing a society wedding. “She’ll go insane with happiness, that's for sure. We’ll be forgiven everything.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll be really married to you by then anyway. This,” she leaned in, emphasizing her words, “is what I want.”

  He smiled. “I don’t know if I need to have your head examined—or worship at your feet.” But he already knew he would give her anything she wanted. Anything at all. Besides, as he thought about her request, he began to understand. Something about it resonated with him.

  Looking up, he saw Miranda’s anxious expression as she watched him. He nodded. “It feels right. Let’s do it.”

  ***

  The sun had departed, leaving behind an orange-stained skyline heralding the arrival of dusk. There was a slightly chilly quality in the air, making Miranda grateful for the limo. Wolfe had insisted, and she’d decided she owed her groom one ostentatious concession. She knew that it was really a sign of how much he felt for her, that he was more comfortable using wealth than words. But he was learning fast.

  She wore an A-line, V-neck vintage lace cocktai
l dress that was simple yet elegant, opting for a lighter shade of ecru rather than the ubiquitous white. She’d even done her own hair and makeup. She wanted to look like herself, and not a glamor puss her guests wouldn’t recognize.

  In her hand, she clutched an arm sheath bouquet of Calla lilies, irises, and sunflowers, a simple selection intended not to intimidate. It was important that her guests felt comfortable.

  The main challenge was persuading her guests to show up at all. Miranda knew all about wanting to look presentable and nice for a wedding. It could be daunting for anyone, more so for these folks. Fortunately, Wolfe had been willing to help. He’d called a clothing store and the problem disappeared.