His Fake Fiancée: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me Book 1)

by Fiona Murphy

  “You are a beautiful woman. I do not want you for a moment doubting that. If buying you the clothes to help you feel better about yourself was what I needed to do, I would happily spend five times what I did every month.”

  I’m grateful it’s dark and he can’t see me smiling. “I thought it was because you were embarrassed by me.”

  “Never, how could you think that?” He sounds insulted.

  “You said it. You said I dressed frumpy and I did.”

  He sighs as he squeezes my hand. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I was attempting to push you away, create distance between us. I am sorry. I also knew you were hiding and I did not like that thought at all.”

  “You sound like Abuelo. I was worried he would get upset at the clothes, but he was happy. Of course I lied and told him that I bought them for my role at your insistence.”

  “Good to know we agree on that. Is there anything I should know before I meet him in order to not offend him?”

  “What?”

  “I am coming in with you in order to announce our engagement. To not do so would most definitely offend him.”

  I hate that he’s right—it totally would. “Or is it to make sure I keep my mouth shut about it being a fake engagement? I told you that I wouldn’t tell him. I swear you are such a control freak, you should see someone for that.”

  Ivan chuckles. “To create the illusion, we have to go through every step as if we were not faking this. And you love my control freak tendencies, your pussy is wet just thinking of it.”

  He isn’t wrong. I am positive I am a freak for loving how controlling he is. I also can’t sum up much angst for it. He’s giving in on me going home. He made me dinner. Then there were the clothes, the way he told me how he’s mine not just to fuck but to take care of me. From everything he has done so far, it wasn’t just talk.

  “It’s annoying how well you know me. I just don’t think it’s the best idea for you to introduce yourself to Abuelo. What does it really matter in the end?”

  “It matters. I told you the more real it seems from the outside, the easier it will be for you as well when this comes to an end.”

  “And what is that going to look like? The end.” My throat tightens around the words.

  “When the time comes, I will make it appear as though I cheated. It will be too large of a transgression for us to recover from. With those who matter sympathy will be for you. This will allow you to continue to work for me. Your coworkers will look down on me, not you.”

  “Why the hell would you do something like that? You aren’t a cheater, Ivan. You are a better man than that. It’s absolutely absurd for you to ruin your reputation.” No, no fucking way will I let him do it.

  “I do not care what anyone thinks about me. You do. My life will not change one way or another. Yours could. Do not concern yourself with the plan.”

  “Don’t worry about you pissing away the respect people have for you in your company? No, if you’re so insistent I’ll work from home. We’ll communicate through email or phone if we need to. What I do and how I do it can be done as easily from home as in the office. Once you ever find a replacement for the PA you need, that is.”

  We’re in the driveway. The porchlight is on and I wonder if Abuelo is asleep yet.

  “This is not a discussion. I have made a plan. The negatives of it do not adversely affect you, therefore you do not have a say in this.”

  I yank my hand out of his. “The hell I don’t. There are two of us in this, Ivan. You don’t get to order me—”

  God damn him, his mouth slams into mine, rough, demanding. For the first time I try to fight what he’s doing to me but my fight goes up in flames as he sucks on my tongue. His hand goes around my throat. Freak, I’m a total freak for how wet it makes me.

  “Behave, poppet, your grandfather is watching us from the window. This argument is for another day.”

  Blushing, praying Abuelo didn’t see everything, I get out of the car on unsteady legs. When I round the car, Ivan takes my arm in his hand.

  The front door opens before we make it up the stairs onto the wide porch. Abuelo is in his wheelchair frowning. His eyes narrow on Ivan through the screen door. I open the door and Ivan’s arm goes around my waist, holding me tightly to him.

  I apologize. “Sorry it’s late. We were working and the time got away from us.”

  Brenda snorts from behind Abuelo.

  Abuelo’s eyebrows go up as he stares at my neck. “Working?”

  Ivan offers his free hand to Abuelo, not letting me go. “Ivan Volkov, no, we were not working. I was asking your granddaughter to marry me. It took some convincing.”

  Eyes wide, Abuelo takes Ivan’s hand. “You want to marry my Christina?”

  “Very much so.” Their handshake is brief. “She is beautiful, brilliant, and I am well aware I am fortunate she said yes. Her standards are high, as they should be. I barely made the cut. I can be persuasive when I want something as badly as I want your granddaughter.”

  “Wow, what a rock,” Brenda exclaims, her eyes on my hand.

  Abuelo grabs my wrist. “My granddaughter is not for sale.”

  Hurt at the condemnation in his voice, the painful grip on me, I pull away from Abuelo. “He didn’t buy me. It wasn’t like that.”

  “What is it?”

  Confusion and pain mingle as Ivan pulls me tighter. I don’t understand why he’s talking like this. After the last time he brought this up all of two weeks ago, I would have thought he’d be jumping for joy.

  “Sir, the moment I met your granddaughter I wanted her by fair means or foul. She would not accept anything less than a lasting relationship, which is not what I wanted. I will freely admit that. Gradually, I realized she deserves everything she asks for. If she wants a lasting relationship, then I will give her what she needs to feel secure.”

  “This is how you got your boss’s position. This is how you’re going to pay off our mortgage. You sell yourself to him. I don’t know you anymore.” Abuelo shakes his head, disgust clear on his face. He wheels around, slamming the door to his room.

  “Um, I’m going to go now. I, uh, congratulations.” Brenda edges toward the door.

  “Wait, you will be open to being with him late again?” Ivan halts her.

  “Yeah, me and Christina talked, whenever she needs me. I’m good. I don’t have anything else going on.”

  “Good.” Ivan opens his wallet and counts out a wad of hundred-dollar bills. “We appreciate it.”

  I want to argue I was handling it, had handled it. Except I’m still stunned, still trying hard not to cry.

  “Go pack a bag, sweetheart.”

  Damn it, I blink and tears fall.

  Gentle hands guide me to our worn couch then press me down. “I will be right back.”

  I haven’t moved when Ivan comes back. I want to bang on Abuelo’s door, I want to tell him he’s wrong but I can’t because he isn’t, technically. I’m also not sure I’m going to be able to stop crying. Ivan’s arms come around me, murmuring softly things I don’t understand, and I hate that I cry harder.

  I lose track of time. Finally, Ivan just picks me up and carries me out of the house. At the car he puts me inside. Then he’s back again with a suitcase he puts in the backseat. Once he’s in the car he fastens my seat belt, pressing another kiss into my cheek.

  “It will be okay, love. I promise. He needs some time with it. He loves you. I will fix this.”

  How can he fix this?

  ***

  Ivan

  Guilt is not emotion I have much experience with, yet I am filled with it as I listen to Christina sniffling beside me, trying to stop crying. I have fucked up her relationship with her grandfather, the most important thing in her life, the only family she has left.

  I promised her that I would fix this, yet I cannot see any way to do so. His accusation made no sense to me. I have known her all of two weeks yet have no doubt she would never allow money to sway h
er to anything she did not believe was right.

  As a man long familiar with money-hungry, gold-digging women, I know Christina is not one of them. Why the hell would her grandfather accuse her of being one?

  I hesitate before guiding her into my bedroom. The idea of sleeping next to her, knowing she is in too much pain to take me, promises to be a night spent in hell. However, the idea of her sleeping alone, crying herself to sleep... No, there is no choice.

  My concern deepens at the way she is simply going through the motions I put her through. I leave her on the bed, and go to my closet to grab a T-shirt of mine to sleep in. Packing for her was done quickly. While I grabbed several work clothes and some of the sexiest lingerie I had ever seen, the only things for her to sleep in were too damn skimpy to lie beside her all night without touching her.

  Undressing her, satisfaction fills me at the marks on her body. Until I see her beautiful face swollen with tears.

  I get her into the shirt and under the covers, then head to the bathroom. I wet a washcloth with cool water, then go back to her and press it against her swollen face. I want to go back to her grandfather and tear him apart piece by piece for hurting her.

  Tucking her into bed, I move away from her to allow her time to fall asleep. “I will be back. I need to wrap a few things up.”

  More like beat my cock a half dozen times before trying to sleep in the same bed without touching her.

  “Ivan?” Her throat works. I cannot deny her what she needs. I turn off the lights, undress, and get into bed beside her. Moment after hot and heady moment starts flashing through my mind as she wraps her arms around me and sinks against me. It’s going to be a long damn night.

  13

  Christina

  “Christina,” Ivan whispers against my cheeks, his lips graze over my skin. “It is getting late. We have an appointment.”

  Groaning, I open my eyes. He’s only inches away from me. Those black eyes are soft and indulgent. Someone reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart for a painful second. I can’t stop myself from running a hand over his cheek; he is so freaking beautiful. Ivan’s hand goes around my wrist, pressing a kiss to the palm as he pulls it away.

  “Time to get up, sweetheart.”

  The sun is glowing through the white gauze curtains. He’s suited up, in a black pinstripe with a dark blue shirt, and a tie in pale blue check pattern. I want to pull him down to me with that tie, but it feels late and he’s got that he-means-business look to him, so damn sexy.

  “What time is it?”

  “Eight o’clock.” He chuckles when my eyes go wide in surprise. “I felt since I was to blame for your exhaustion, I owed you a lie-in. However, I have left the lawyer waiting once already. It is in poor taste to do so again.”

  I can’t believe it. I think I’m in shock. Ivan doesn’t deviate from his schedule. When I asked Tim if the schedule was set in stone, Tim said Ivan had only broken the pattern twice in the seven years he had worked for him.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt out as I struggle to sit up. Holy crap, every bit of me aches. I gasp at the way I would swear, if I didn’t see Ivan sitting on the edge of the bed, that he was inside me.

  “Still sore?”

  I nod, too embarrassed at how wet I am just thinking about yesterday.

  “I have a bath waiting for you. Not too long though. You have a half hour to get ready. Breakfast will be waiting. I will be in my office. It is down the hall. Come in when you are done.” He trails his thumb over my bottom lip, then he’s gone.

  Watching him walk away, I’m glad he can’t see the goofy grin on my face.

  I don’t take as long as I want in the bath but it was worth it. I feel much better when I get out of it. I don’t have time to do anything with my hair, so I brush it out and do a messy bun instead of the slick, tight one Ivan doesn’t like.

  In his bedroom I look for my suitcase but don’t see it. I open the door to his walk-in closet—wow. There are not one but two islands in the middle that I know are for accessories. I can’t imagine having enough to fill them. There are two walls of Ivan’s clothes. One wall is filled with so many gorgeous suits, in an array of blacks, grays, and dark blues, I lose count. Another wall is full of casual clothes. And a third wall has my clothes Ivan packed last night. I can’t believe he was able to get as many as he did. It’s weird seeing my clothes here with his.

  A sigh escapes me; I can’t stay here. I let Ivan bring me here because I was in too much pain to argue with anyone last night. But I am going home tonight. I’m not going to beg or plead for Abuelo to understand or even approve of whatever the hell me and Ivan are, but I sure as fuck am not going to apologize or feel guilty for it.

  I’ve spent my whole life trying to please him, to be a good girl who never causes a problem, never asks for more than he or Abuela could give me. There was no skipping classes, no smoking of anything. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was eighteen years old. The only reason I dated Brandon was because he liked a challenge. I was twenty-two years old when we first had sex, and it was basically because of the permission Abuela gave me to do it.

  Abuelo said no tight-fitting clothes, I didn’t wear them. Abuelo said no makeup, I didn’t wear it until I was in my twenties. Abuelo said women should have long hair, and the time I cut it short when I was fifteen he kept saying I looked like a boy so I never cut it again, except for trimming it. I hate my fucking hair, it gives me headaches and takes forever to take care of. Yet I don’t cut it to make him happy.

  I love him but fuck this. I’m thirty years old. It’s long past time to do what I want to do because I want to do it. The longer I think of it, the more humiliating it is for me to have been such a child in an effort to please him.

  Enough, I need to get moving, I’m starving. As I look through my clothes wondering what to wear, I go still. I was trying to figure out which dress Ivan would like most. What the fuck? Am I trading the need to please one man for another?

  The shake of my head is instant. I don’t even have to think about it. No, there is a difference. Ivan didn’t withhold his approval to get me to do anything. He wanted me to be happy. The clothes were for me, not him. He didn’t like me wearing makeup because I didn’t need it, not because he thought it meant I was a whore.

  Abuelo had actually called me a whore the first time I came home wearing makeup. Abuelo was about control for the sake of control. Ivan was controlling to take care of me—and, no doubt about it, to keep his life the way he liked it—yet even then when it came to what I wanted or needed, he loosened his reins.

  I cared about making Ivan happy because it made me happy too. I loved Abuelo, but I wanted to make him happy not just because it made me happy but because it also made life easier. Abuelo could be so hard to deal with when he wasn’t happy.

  Heat hits me in a wave, and I turn to find Ivan staring at me.

  “Christina, please get dressed.” Ivan groans as his hands clench at his side. This his eyes widen, and he comes closer. “Fuck, I had no idea. You’re all bruised up. Fucking hell, I’m sorry.”

  Gently, he traces the bruises on my hips and over my breasts. Regret is clear on his face. This time knowing he’s lost that ice cool of his doesn’t make me feel good. I grab his hand and bring it up to my face.

  “Hey, I just spent almost ten minutes in the bath feeling smug and wet—not from the water, but as I found all the bruises you gave me. I love every single one of them. Even the ones on my throat I can’t hide.”

  His eyes darken as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me up to him. “The point of the marks on your neck is not to hide them. I want everyone looking at you to know you are mine. The same way I spent all day inside you so that you would feel me there with every step you take.”

  I sway into him, and he catches me around my waist. The silk suit he’s wearing is cool against my heated skin. “Mission accomplished, I’m feeling much better now.”

  He laughs. “No, you are not. I d
etest tardiness. Get dressed. What do you want for breakfast?”

  It’s hard not to pout. “A couple of scrambled eggs and some toast is fine. Coffee, white and sweet.”

  “It will be ready in a few minutes. I like your hair like that. Please no makeup on your beautiful skin.”

  I nod.

  He lets go of me. “Get dressed.”

  Cranky, I let him go, then the bastard smacks my ass. Ouch, damn, that hurt. I want to yell at him but he’s already gone.

  Rubbing my ass, I shiver at how much I liked it. At the way it makes the bite he gave me sting even more under the smack. Even aching as much as I do, I’m resentful of him telling me no. I’m a freak, definite freak. Thank god, he is too and doesn’t make me feel guilty for it.

  One of the many reasons sex hadn’t been great was because Brandon made me feel guilty for even wanting to like it. When I tried to explain, to ask how to make it better he shamed me, hinting women who liked sex were dirty.

  I laugh when I find all the bras and panties Ivan packed were black, considering thanks to him I had a rainbow of colors to choose from. Ivan likes black, duly noted. I pick out a lacy black dress with a slit up the side there is no way he noticed. This is one I haven’t worn yet, I was saving it for a special occasion. Today feels pretty damn special.

  His condo is...impressive might fit, but awesome is probably better. It’s on the fifty-fourth floor in a corner with a view that took my breath away. Yesterday, it took a few minutes to find him after he ran scared from bed. There are two other bedrooms, a library, an office, and two different living rooms, although only one has a television in it. His kitchen is a chef’s dream, huge with an area to eat in, and there’s a large dining room right next to it.

  I managed to get through every room before I found him with a glass in his hand, looking like he regretted everything. Forcing my pain down at seeing his regret, I promised myself I would stick to the plan of not pushing him.

  So I told him I wanted to go home. I thought I was telling him what he wanted to hear. It was hard not to smile at his reaction. The way he told me he wanted me to stay, demanded I stay not just for the night, but for the week. I threw his warning back at him and almost laughed at his outrage. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay after all.