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

by Fiona Murphy

  What foundation? That’s not what I was thinking about. I’m a bad, sneaky person. “I have my ways.”

  He rolls his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “How is it not a big deal?” Please don’t let him be mad if he figures out I didn’t know.

  “Because it’s what you should do when you have more money than ninety-nine percent of the planet. There had been a moment of guilt as I spoke with Dmitri a few years ago when I ended the year at the level of billionaire. There was a high I had not experienced before.”

  Sighing, he shakes his head. “Dmitri yanked me down with a casual savagery, going for the throat without blinking an eye. Reminding me of where I had started, bone-achingly hungry, grubby, from a council estate, only able to achieve what I had through the kindness of a man who saw the potential in me. Now I would be able to repay that kindness, wouldn’t I? In the next breath, he gave me a card for a charitable foundation he had created. I had no idea. It did not have his name on it and he had never mentioned it before.”

  Ivan runs a finger along the frown on my forehead. “The bastard made it all clear, what was the use of having all that money if it just sat in a bank account? While I do have the condo in Chicago and I never sold my condo in New York City, besides this home here in Manchester that my mum and sisters live in, I haven’t a single desire to buy real estate for anything beyond its purpose. The casual spending of money has never been something I allowed myself to do.

  “Of course there was the usual spending on clothes and accessories of the best quality, a private plane, and a car, they were made with studied value in mind. The only place in my life I spent money without careful consideration was when it came to my sisters, their education, their birthday requests, their vacations—their needs were met without thought. After going without even basic necessities growing up, I would deny them nothing. Dmitri made the case if I had to give it to them, then surely, I could help others in the way they so desperately needed.”

  Now I feel even more special, Ivan spending so freely when it came to me meant much more than he let on.

  “So before the week was out I set plans in motion to create my own charitable foundation. I chose to base it in Manchester to help not only those in Manchester, but throughout the United Kingdom. Despite the benefits system in the UK, there are millions of people who fall through the cracks, ending up homeless or relegated to grotty bedsits, and even more who go hungry. Digging deeper into how best to put the money to work, the numbers and reality were almost overwhelming. It was a humbling experience.”

  A small shrug. “Like Dmitri, I kept my name off the foundation and kept away from it in public. Only Connor knows of it and handles any communication from it to me. The money comes from my personal account, and the lone director of the foundation is the only person who knows where the funding comes from. Every month when the two million leaves my account, there is a different kind of satisfaction. Knowing it is going to help others, that I am able to do so, is a completely different high. In all this time no one besides Connor and Dmitri knew of it. How the hell did you find out?”

  Two million dollars a month, holy crap. I blush. “I didn’t. You just told me. I was talking about sneaking out to spend the night with Connor after Sara’s chemo treatment.”

  Ivan’s eyes go wide, then he throws back his head and laughs. The timer goes off—we have an hour before we need to be downstairs. “You sneaky witch. Come on, we need to get ready.”

  “We have time for once more,” I whisper against the skin of his neck.

  “Just once,” he says as his hands tighten on my hips.

  ***

  Ivan

  The evening has not even begun and I want it over with. Being in a room full of people does not appeal during any given day. When I could be spending it alone with Christina, I resent the fuck out of it. Then I remember Gemma’s pleas to be nice to her new almost in-laws; the least I could do was not make her situation any worse. I check the time, wondering how much longer Christina will take.

  When I look up she’s standing in front of me, and fuck all, I don’t want to share her with another soul. The dress is silk, a glowing burnt orange that clings to every curve. The wrap style crosses over her chest, a bit lower than I prefer, but at least it comes down to her ankles. All I can think of is ripping her out of it.

  “Is it that bad? Does it make me look fat?”

  Growling, I send a hand into her hair and yank her against me. I hate that she cut it, but she loves it so I won’t complain. “You’re too fucking sexy. Quit using that damn word.”

  She smiles, damn it.

  “You’re wearing makeup. You don’t cover your body up enough, but you cover up your beautiful face. At nine you get a headache, or I’m carrying you upstairs without a single apology.”

  Her laughter grazes over my skin, hardening my cock. I lick the base of her throat, then nip and suck to make sure I mark her as mine.

  “You’re an animal.” She groans, but the hands in my hair aren’t pulling me away.

  “Say it like it’s a bad thing, I dare you.” God, I need to get her downstairs before I take her back to bed.

  I’m satisfied Mishka will not be here tonight, but I’m not so happy she will still attend both ceremonies. Aarti apologized that with so many family members traveling from India, his parents were too proud to be honest about their daughter’s actions.

  However, his sister will be traveling back with his grandparents to India, where she will be spending the summer. Her parents had been shocked and embarrassed by my call last night, it might have been because it was almost midnight. They swore Mishka would be on her best behavior for the day of the wedding and they’d keep her far from me and Christina. It will have to do.

  As the night goes on, it is not nearly as trying as I believed it would be. Aari’s parents are making an effort to be nice to Gemma. No one mentions Mum, thank fuck for the whole polite restraint of Brits. Aari’s parents know, to everyone else she’s out of the country, and no one questions further because it would be uncouth to do so.

  Christina is having a good time huddled with Hannah. I am not surprised she and Hannah have become fast friends, they are much alike. Hannah has also been missing the closeness she and Gemma once shared. They have grown apart in the last year as Gemma and Aari’s relationship developed. It was likely the reason she grew close with Mishka.

  I check the time. Almost eight thirty. I look up and Christina’s eyes are on me. She gives me a cheeky grin. Good girl, she will get the best damn reward.

  Even better, she puts her hand to her head as she frowns. Perfect, so damn perfect. By the time I cross to her, Hannah is glaring at me.

  “Ivan, you need to take better care of her. Keeping her up till all hours. The poor thing is exhausted. Let her get some rest, why don’t you, you letch.”

  Drawing Christina close, I nod contritely. “You’re right. I’m going to put her to bed and get some work in. Have an early night.”

  With a hug from Gemma and Hannah, Christina keeps her sad face in place and apologizes for the third time as I steer her toward the stairs.

  Once we’re on the landing, she drops the act and giggles as I pull her close. “You deserve an Oscar for all that.”

  “I’m following orders. You promised. An early night.”

  “I did promise, and I keep my promises.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  ***

  Christina

  The week flies by in a flash. Ivan and I spend another day in bed, tucked away in the room until it happens, and it’s clear there are no repercussions from the whole no-condom thing. Ivan is oddly disappointed, I think, or maybe it’s the whole no-sex thing for a week. Weirdly, though, the whole no-sex thing isn’t the crushing blow to our relationship that I feared it would be.

  Neither of us is willing to put up with having each other even kind of naked, if he was going to make me wear not just a top but the bottoms of pajamas, then he
did too. Like I was really going to keep my hands off his hard chest when it was bare to me. I had begged more times than I would ever admit to a soul to take him in my mouth, but he refused. If I couldn’t have release, neither would he.

  We spend several days roaming through Manchester in between large parties where I’m grateful for the new clothes I have. While some of the women are wearing saris, most of them are in designer labels. During our walks, he finally tells me about how he grew up as he takes me past his old homes. There had been several because they kept getting kicked out.

  He tells me everything, from the very beginning, how he and his mother came to England. His father was a high-ranking official in the Russian Army who had been murdered before he could defect to England with secrets. The government held up their deal and granted Ivan and his mother asylum; Ivan was only five years old when they arrived in Manchester. When they first got here things weren’t so bad, but three years later she met a man, and things went downhill fast.

  His mother received benefits but rarely used them to buy food—often it went to alcohol or cigarettes for her and the boyfriend. Within a year his mother had Gemma, and only another year passed before she had Hannah. Ivan described taking care of his sisters, feeding and changing their diapers. How he would come home from school to find they weren’t taken care of at all. The way he started trying to hire himself as an errand boy to the elderly in the area to get groceries, do housework or yardwork, anything he could to make money.

  We’re on another walk when we stop outside a detached brick house, which I’m finding is a big deal here. “This was her house. The woman I told you about with the posh accent. I spent a lot of time here. She let me bring Gemma and Hannah round to keep an eye on them while I worked. Her goal was to spoil them rotten every visit. A few times her son was here too, Phillip, and for some reason he liked me.”

  “Hmm, a kid who was working his ass off to take care of his little sisters, and did it while being nice to an old lady. I can’t imagine why.”

  He shrugs. “Or maybe he thought he would get good cheap labor. He hired me on at his factory when I was only fourteen.”

  “Fourteen? Isn’t that illegal?” I try not to raise my voice in horror at the idea of a fourteen-year-old in a factory job.

  “Not for part time, and no one was going to make a fuss with Phillip. At the time it was one of the largest factories in the city. It produced several different medical devices and brought a large amount of business to Manchester. At the time he paid better than all the odd jobs combined I was running. It was a relief to work for him. If anyone asked questions about it, I didn't answer them."

  "It was a good thing for you? He didn't take advantage of you?"

  Smiling, he strokes the frown line in my forehead. "No, he didn't take advantage of me. In the end he was the best thing to happen to me. I told him as soon as I finished sitting my GCSEs I wanted to go straight to full time for him, whatever the results were. He urged me to have a think on it. To do my best and we'd discuss it once I got the results."

  "Let me guess, he had a plan?"

  "He did indeed." Chuckling, he nods. "I sat them and was actually quite depressed when I did so well. The push was coming from all around me to continue on with my education, when all I wanted was to get a bigger paycheck."

  "I can understand that, my Abuela wouldn't let me get a job when I was sixteen because she didn't want me hooked on getting a paycheck. She promised my father I'd go to college no matter what." It was one of the few times Abuela ever put her foot down with anger when I tried to argue with her.

  "It isn't easy to wait for the bigger paycheck when you need one right then. All I could think was once I went on to university, I would have to take out loans to pay for it. They weren't huge, a few thousand, nothing like in the US, but when every penny was going to keep heat on and the girls fed, I didn't want to owe anyone anything."

  Once again, the idea of him carrying such a heavy burden at such a young age makes me very glad I won’t meet his mother. "How did he talk you out of it?"

  A lift of his eyebrow teases me. "By offering me a bigger paycheck, much bigger, in the end. Phillip laid out his hope for me. His son wasn’t shaping up to be the person to carry on the company. After a mild heart attack, Phillip was ready to make plans. He wanted me to keep going through all the way until I got my degree. I would need it and everything I learned to take over. Phillip would pay for university, and when I was ready we would create a partnership. I would run the place and he could retire.”

  I could see it, someone recognizing Ivan's intelligence and drive at such a young age. Something tells me even if Ivan hadn’t met Markhoff, he would have found a way to succeed beyond a factory job and into wealth. “He had very big plans for you. So you kept going.”

  “I did. I got into the University of Manchester. Phillip paid the tuition and I kept working part time while going to school. When I graduated I went full time the next day. Six months later Phillip died of a heart attack, before we signed any paperwork about the partnership.”

  I hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too, he was a good guy. Two weeks later Dmitri Markhoff came into the factory and told me he was there to take over. Phillip’s son hated me and wanted nothing to do with the company. He was willing to hand it over for a check.

  “I told Markhoff to fuck off. I could save the company and make it profitable. I had been working five years for this; I wasn’t going to let him take it away from me. Twenty-one, young and dumb and convinced I knew everything.” He chuckles as he shakes his head. I know he’s gone, back in that moment.

  “And he told you what?”

  “He would give me six months. If I could turn it around in six months, he’d sell it to me for what he paid for it. I worked my ass off, I was eating and sleeping there. I only left to meet with suppliers and make sales pitches.”

  “You turned the company around in just six months?”

  He laughs, a full, throaty laugh that makes my panties wet. “No, I crashed and burned. Didn’t even come close.”

  “What happened?” I never would have thought Ivan would fail.

  “Markhoff walked in and told me he appreciated the effort. Told me he had been keeping his eyes on me. He liked what he saw. Did I want to come work for him?”

  “And you jumped at the chance?”

  “I left with him the very same day. He threw me into the deep end. I did everything, a mix of PA, kept an eye out for acquisitions. After a few years he sent me in to troubleshoot and come up with a turnaround plan once we took over.”

  “You have the biggest grin on your face.” I hate we’re in public and I can’t touch him the way I want to. “You loved it.”

  “Yeah, at first it was fascinating, fun stuff but then I saw him fire a PA for a lapse. It wasn’t a small thing and it cost him loads of money, but it shook me, reminded me of the plan.”

  “What plan?” And why am I not surprised Ivan went to work for Markhoff with a plan?

  “That I was going to learn everything I could to ensure nothing like what Markhoff did would ever happen to me again. I would never wake up one morning only to have everything taken from me before the day was through.

  “By that time, I was making enough to cover expenses for the girls and save money. I put away everything I could. It took almost five years until I found a company I could afford. I knew it was too small for Markhoff, but it was perfect for me. I went to him and told him I wanted it for myself.”

  “And he said?”

  “I was fired. He’d shown me all he could, it was time to make it on my own.”

  “He fired you?” I’m outraged.

  Ivan pulls me close. “Not like that, love. He was happy for me. There was no anger, no malice. Five years was right around the time he thought it would take me. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest I wanted to go out on my own. He even came in at another angle to help me drive the price down even further.”


  “Men are weird.” I shake my head in wonder. “Is he what brought you to Chicago from New York?”

  “Pretty much. I was surprised by his move, he admitted it was for his wife at first. In the end it gave him a boost to his business better than he could have hoped. A lower cost of living enabled him to pay well, yet it was almost twenty percent less than the lowest salary he paid in New York. I did a deal in Chicago and stuck around for the weekend. While I was there I saw the appeal. Chicago moves at a slower pace, yet offers as much convenience in business, entertainment and five-fold in housing.”

  “You never thought of moving back here?” Considering how close he is with his sisters, I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t want to come back one day.

  He shakes his head without hesitation. “Not enough business opportunities. London will bleed you dry, the taxes are horrendous, and it is too fucking cold.”

  “You’re going to stay in Chicago?”

  “I’m not planning on going anywhere. You? Ever want to run away to somewhere warmer?”

  “God no, even with family I love Chicago. The sense of community among the skyscrapers, but then you have each area with its own sense of self. I would be miserable anywhere else. Well, except maybe in December and January. I wouldn’t mind missing out on a snowstorm or two. Speaking of, is it really going to rain? It feels like it in the air. You’re flying in the rain?”

  I hate the idea of him going to London in a few hours. What I hate even more is the idea of him going without me. It’s for work, for him to check up on the progress of a merger. It’s been on the calendar for weeks, the team is expecting him. He would have lunch with the leads, go back to the building to check on the progress, and then a business dinner with a potential buyer of a part of the company. His flight back is tentatively set for ten tonight, although it could change depending on the buyer.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s a light rain, the pilot checked. I promise it’s safe. I want you to come too, but Gemma has rung twice to make sure you’re coming tonight. This hen do is important to her, I’m grateful you’re going. It will only be for the afternoon—I’ll be back in time to tuck you into bed.” His eyebrows lift in delicious intent.