by T. S. Ryder
Barnes took a sip of his scotch, an amused smile on his lips. "Your argument is flawed, but not baseless. I am not going to debate morals with you, though, Miss…?"
"You may call me Scarlett."
"Your last name isn't O'Hara, is it? Because with your southern accent—"
"Brenan. You're going to turn me over to the police, anyway, so there is no point in keeping my name from you." Scarlett sighed as she drank. All the good she was doing, finished. Well, it was her own fault for being so careless. Her mentor would be appalled when he found out.
Barnes chuckled. "I have no intention of calling the police, Scarlett."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I have a proposal to make to you." He settled in a wing-backed leather chair. "You have read about me in the newspapers, yes?"
Scarlett nodded.
"Then you know of my mysterious fiancée that everybody knows about but nobody has seen?" At her second nod, he continued. "There is no fiancée. It was something I made up when I last visited my extended family so they would stop bothering me about when I was going to settle down, and the media has blown it completely out of proportion. I'm tired of all my female friends being targeted."
Scarlett held up her hand. "Please get to the point. What does this have to do with me?"
Barnes' smile widened. "I want you to be my fiancée. Hang off my arm for a year, let the media have their storm and then we can quietly part. I'll even introduce you to the old wealth of the country, so you'll have plenty of work to keep you occupied after our charade is done. And as a sign of my thanks, I will donate a million dollars every month to a charity of your choice. At the end of the year, five billion will go wherever you want it."
It was a good offer. Scarlett scowled. Did she want to spend a year pretending she was going to marry the man? Well, it was better than prison. At least this way she could continue to do some good. And she had to admit that he was quite attractive, and she had enjoyed their brief verbal sparring. There were worse choices. Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded.
"I will be your fiancée for a year," she said reluctantly. "But if you think that includes sex, sir, think again."
It seemed impossible, but Barnes' smile got even bigger. His eyes gleamed, as though she had just offered him an exciting challenge. He held out his hand. "Deal."
Scarlett shook his hand, her heartbeat increasing as she did so. She was not thinking about taking back her no-sex rule as she realized just how large his hands were…
This is going to be a long year.
Chapter Two
Barnes–Max, as he insisted Scarlett call him, given that they were engaged–was generous enough to give her a few days to get to know his friends before he unleashed the media on her. And so the day after she got engaged to a man she didn't know, she found herself in a bridal salon with a bunch of women she didn't know. Apparently, Max's housekeeper, Vanessa, had a granddaughter who was getting married soon. Max was footing the bill for her wedding dress.
The bride had astonishingly bad taste. She wanted lace and ruffles and beading and a train six feet long and a puffy princess skirt and a sexy corset top. Any one of the elements by themselves, or even a few together in moderation, would have been fine. But all together? Scarlett was horrified and it took all her control not to slap some sense into the young woman.
"So you're Max's fiancée?" one of the bride's friends or cousins asked her, while they were waiting for the bride to change into her normal clothes, having chosen the 'perfect' gown. "It's funny that he has never talked about you before."
Scarlet gave her a practiced smile. "I like my privacy, and Max understands that."
"Oh, I completely understand. I hate it when people are all pushy about things that are none of their business. So where are you from?"
Vanessa, whom Max had told the truth of the engagement the previous night, leaned across the younger woman to grab Scarlett's wrist. She was grateful for the interruption–until Vanessa spoke.
"I have the most wonderful idea, my dear. While you're here, you should try on a dress or two yourself."
"Oh, I couldn't," Scarlett gasped, horrified. What was Vanessa after, asking her to do something like that? Did she want to expose the relationship as a fraud? "This is about your granddaughter. I don't even know y’all that well."
For some reason, Scarlett found people responded positively when she said 'y’all'. This time was no different and the gathered women tittered and smiled. But they still insisted she try on a gown, especially when they heard she hadn't been giving her wedding details that much thought. Scarlett couldn't believe that they would derail the actual bride's moment, but when she also insisted that Scarlett try on a dress or two, courtesy demanded she acquiesce, and Scarlett was bustled off to a dressing room.
Once she was in the dressing room, Scarlett let her frustrations out with a few choice swear words, and that helped her feel better. A couple of dresses were presented to her by the bridal consultant, picked out by the party who were eagerly waiting to see her in them. Scarlett managed to squeeze herself into one of them but had to send the bridal consultant back to see if she could find the other one three sizes bigger.
Scarlett sighed unhappily as she peered into the mirror. She was in a mermaid dress that looked like it had been vacuum sealed around her body. The awful ice-white shade did nothing for her already too-pale completion. A gentlewoman she might be, but she was not going to wear white when she eventually married. It looked awful on her.
A knock on the dressing room door brought her out of her thoughts. She opened it, expecting the bridal consultant. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of an older Vietnamese gentleman wearing a tailored dark brown suit and carrying a polished cane in his hand.
"Hao!" Scarlett squealed in delight, throwing her arms around him.
If she was the 'gentlewoman thief', Hao was the quintessential 'gentleman thief'. Every one of his collections went off without a hitch, and in his fifty years of business, he had never once taken so much as a ring that could not be replaced. Scarlett had been lucky enough to run into him at the start of her own career, and he had taught her everything she knew.
When she pulled back, however, she saw that the usual smile on his face was not present. Her arms dropped to her side.
"What's this I hear about you engaging yourself to Maximillian Barnes? Have you no shame, turning into a common confidence scammer?"
"Certainly not!" Scarlett narrowed her eyes at her old mentor. "Where did you hear about my… engagement, anyway?"
"I have my sources. It will be all over the tabloids by tonight." Hao folded his hands over his cane. "If you are not running a confidence scam, then what exactly are you doing, Scarlett? Have you turned against the greater good to drown yourself in diamonds? Or do you think you will break the institution from the inside?"
"You have it all wrong, Hao," Scarlett said, folding her arms. Her lower lip stuck out, like the teenager she was when Hao first found her. She wasn't proud of it, but for some reason, she always felt like a child around her mentor, and inevitably slipped back into the role.
"I do, do I?" Hao looked at wedding dress she was wearing pointedly. "So you are just trying on that ridiculous costume for fun, are you? You do know that that single gown could feed half a dozen families for a month?"
"More than that," Scarlett protested. "You've underestimated its value."
She wasn't helping her case any and dropped her arms to smooth down the tight skirt. Her fingers caught on the jewels spaced throughout the intricate embroidery. It felt suddenly decadent to be wearing such a ridiculous gown and she dropped her head, ashamed.
"Why don't you tell me what it is you are up to?" Hao's voice was even as he gazed at her.
With a sigh, Scarlett explained the events of the previous night and the deal she had made with Max. Saying it out loud made the whole thing sound even more preposterous than it had up until this moment, and Scarlet ended by sitting in a provided chair,
the tight wedding dress making it hard to breathe. She felt like she was going to burst out of it at any moment.
Hao had been quiet as she spoke, and once she was done, he shook his head. Disapproval was coming off him in waves and Scarlett felt even more ashamed than she had when she had started. This pretense, even though she was not the one to suggest it, was certainly not the action of a woman who considered herself to be well-mannered and full of social grace.
"I don't care if it is ungentlewomanly," she muttered in a petulant tone. "Sometimes a woman must fight against social constraint. Can I call myself a strong woman if I do not forge my own path from time to time?"
"I cannot say that I am pleased with this course of action, Scarlett. It would have been better had you not allowed your hubris to overtake you. But as you said, you must forge your path from time to time. As long as this Barnes does not take liberties you are unwilling to give, then I can't say anything more on the subject."
Scarlett glanced up through her lashes, hoping to see Hao's gentle smile. It was there, and she got to her feet again, embracing him to show her thanks.
"If you do end up taking this… masquerade too far, don't forget to invite me to the wedding." Hao winked at her, earning a laugh. "And whatever else you might do for the ceremony, do not wear a dress that looks like this. It's all wrong for you, my Scarlett, all wrong. It shows none of your elegance, and it's so… boringly traditional. You need something with a bit more spunk."
"And not white," Scarlett added. "Blue or black."
Hao tilted his head, nodding his approval. "Blue. An elegant navy blue. Perhaps with some contrasting embroidery."
Scarlett clapped her hands. "Yes, that would be perfect."
"Well, I must be off." He patted her cheek affectionately. "A gentleman's work is never done."
Scarlet embraced him again, not wanting him to leave. Everything had happened so quickly that, until this moment, she hadn't had time to really process what was happening. Now that she understood exactly what she was doing, it was frightening. She wanted Hao to come back to Max's mansion and solve the problem like he had so often done in the past. But, as she had said, she needed to forge her own path, and this was certainly one of those moments. So she released him and stepped back.
"If I do get married," she said, smiling because there wasn't anything else to do, "you will have to walk me down the aisle. You're the closest thing I have to a father."
Hao squeezed her hand. "It would be my honor."
With a smile and a final doff of his hat, he slipped from the dressing room. Moments later the bridal consultant was back, and Scarlett plastered a smile onto her face, determined to play the excited bride to the best of her capabilities.
Chapter Three
Two months later, Scarlett had her first 'official date' with Max. They had spent those two months getting to know each other, and collaborating a story about how they had met. Most importantly, they decided how he had proposed. They disagreed on the finer details, but that was the only natural between real couples, so they let it slide in their fake relationship.
For their first real date, where her identity as Maximillian Barnes' fiancée was officially revealed to the world, Scarlett insisted that they go see a Broadway musical. There was something about a live performance that thrilled and immersed her the way a movie, no matter how enjoyable, could not. She had actually been surprised to learn that Max preferred theater over cinema as well. Actually, she found it surprising how well they got along. Conversation was easy between them as if they had really had known each other for years before Max proposed.
"I'm just saying that the girl who played the maid ought to have been the lead soprano," Scarlett said, as Max helped her into her coat in the lobby of the theater. The play, which Max had chosen, had been surprisingly racy and left Scarlett with a pounding heart.
"I'm not disagreeing with you that her voice was better," Max said, wrapping a scarf around his neck. "But she was far too old to be the countess, and the maid had the next largest role."
Scarlett indulged herself in an eye-roll as they left the theater. It was a crisp, bright night full of lights. Max had an apartment within walking distance that they would be spending the night in, and she was glad for the walk. After sitting in the theater for so long, her body ached for movement.
Scarlett collected her thoughts to counter Max's argument as they headed off into the clear night. "The countess doesn't need to be as young as she was cast."
"The main point of the story is the scandal from the age gap between her and her husband. A young actress is necessary."
"The count was made to look well into his nineties," Scarlet countered. "The maid couldn't have been more than thirty, that's still a massive age gap with a ninety-year-old husband. The actress would have been just as suited to be a young wife as the seventeen-year-old they cast. Or are you saying that a thirty-year-old bride is just the right age for a ninety-year-old groom?"
Max laughed and inclined his head. "You win, madam. Quite correctly. The maid was plenty young enough to play the countess."
Scarlett nodded, satisfied with her work. They had gone a block by this time, and as they passed through an alley, a flash of movement caught her eye. Even as she turned, she felt a hand clasp over her wrist and pull her off balance. The sharp edge of a knife pressed against her ribs, making her gasp. Madoc! He'd found out who she was!
"Give me your wallet and watch," rasped a male voice. He sounded even more frightened than Scarlett felt.
Not Madoc, then, or anybody sent by him.
She twisted and saw that the man who held her captive wasn't much more than a boy. He could only be sixteen, and he had wide, frightened eyes and a trembling hand. Not a criminal at all, just a boy making a desperate choice. Scarlett couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She ran through all the ways she could disarm him in her mind, but didn't attempt to free herself just yet, curious as to what Max would do.
"Give me the wallet!" The boy insisted.
Max held up his hands, his expression calm. "Hold up there. Let's not lose our cool. You look hungry. Why don't you let my fiancée go so we can grab something to eat and talk this through?"
The boy's expression contorted. A look of anger flashed through his eyes and he pressed the knife snugger against Scarlett's ribs. She grabbed his wrist, ready to do what she needed to do to avoid getting hurt, but Max shook his head minutely, as though telling her not to.
"All right," he said, "you can have my wallet."
He drew out the wallet and held it out towards the boy, who roughly pushed Scarlett away to snatch it. Before his fingers could close on the leather, though, Max had moved forward. He slapped the knife from the boy's hand and grabbed his wrist, twisting him around. With one hand firmly clasping the boy's wrist, he grabbed the back of his jacket and hoisted him from the ground.
"I was in the Marines, you picked the wrong man to mug."
"Let me go!"
"Can you bring that?" Max said pleasantly, nodding towards the fallen knife.
Scarlett, gaping, did as he asked. The boy squirmed in Max's grasp, but the billionaire easily carried him to his apartment building. The doorman looked at them strangely as they passed. Scarlett skirted past him, not daring to even try to make up an excuse for this. Anything she said would just make him more suspicious.
The boy had stopped fighting by the time they got to the apartment, a lush open-concept space with a loft bedroom.
Only one bedroom. And the couch didn't look too comfortable. Scarlett narrowed her eyes at Max as he deposited their would-be mugger at the kitchen table. Did he think he could change her mind on the no-sex rule? It would explain the racy play he had chosen…
She found herself hoping that he would try… Max was not the arrogant jerk she had thought he would be. In fact, if he weren't so obscenely wealthy, she might even consider calling him a gentleman.
Max looked at the boy, folding his massive arms. "What's your name?"
"Sam. What are you going to do with me?"
"What's your story, Sam?"
The boy shifted in his seat, scowling.
Max pulled a loaf of bread and jar of jam from the fridge. "You got allergies?"
Sam's eyes widened slightly as he shook his head.
"I'm going to make you a sandwich, and you’re going to tell us why you're mugging people," Max said coolly. "Deal?"
Scarlett sat next to the boy. "We're not going to call the police. Are we, Max?"
The billionaire shrugged and shook his head. "Guess not."
"My dad's sick," the boy muttered, glaring suspiciously at them. "My mom works three jobs, but I need to help bring in some money to pay the bills. But nobody will hire me. We need the money."
Max grunted. He pushed the sandwich to the boy. After a moment, Sam tore into it like he hadn't eaten all day. Scarlett resisted the urge to pat his back and dig out the money from Max's wallet to give to him. This was exactly why she did what she did. No child should have to take this amount of responsibility just to keep the family's head above water. The basic staples of life—food, water, shelter, medical care—those should be rights, not privileges that could only be bought.
This child wasn't a criminal. The system, strangling the life out of his childhood, then blaming him for doing what he needed to do to put food on his family's table, was criminal. Why couldn't more people see that?
Scarlett realized she was glaring at Max, who deliberately ignored her. He was writing something in a notebook–no, his checkbook. Scarlett's eyes widened as he tore out a check and handed it to Sam.
"Take it," he urged, as Sam stared at the check. "That ought to be enough for the rest of the month. And I've written my PA's number on the back of it, call him and tell him that I want to give you a job. You're still in high school, right?"
