The Billionaire's Christmas Bundle Of Joy - A Secret Baby Romance

by Holly Rayner

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said; brows furrowed.

  “Amie, what’s the problem?”

  “What’s the problem?” she repeated, her voice full of disgust. “Um. Let me think, how about the part where you monumentally lie to your family?”

  Seeing her anger, Malik made an attempt to coo her, stroking her shoulder with his hand. “It’s only pretend, is what I’m trying to say. Please, please help me satisfy their desire to know that I’m okay. I mean, how could I not be okay with such a precious pretend wife like you?”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Amie’s frown grew harder and she backed away from his touch. There was nothing charming about what he had just said. The level of deception involved was beyond anything she could comprehend.

  She stood from the bed and began pulling her clothes on as quickly as she could.

  “Amie, come on,” Malik said softly. “Don’t be like that. Please.”

  “What, exactly, are we supposed to say? Oh, hey, we’re getting married like, right now, without Amie’s parents, or her friends and family? How does that make any sense to you?”

  “They won’t even think about it,” he reassured her. “They’ll assume we’re having one ceremony here, and one back in Chicago. Last-minute ceremonies happen all the time here; they won’t suspect a thing.”

  Amie laughed unenthusiastically, grabbing one of her shirts and buttoning it up. “And what about afterwards, when they want to see me, and you can’t provide an Amie understudy to step into the role?”

  “We’ll figure it out when that time comes,” he offered.

  “We’ll figure it out?” she scoffed. “I can’t believe you would put them through that.”

  “What do you even care?” he asked, stepping out from the warmth of their bedsheets. “You agreed to do this in the first place, didn’t you? You had no problem lying to them about us being a couple or about your job. What difference does it make?”

  “Malik,” she laughed softly, “Listen to yourself! It’s like you’ve put no thought at all into the consequences of what you’re about to do.”

  He walked over to her and grabbed her hands in his; his eyes frustrated as they beamed into her. “Please,” he repeated firmly. “Please fulfill the contract and help me quell my aging parents’ fears.”

  Yeah, great, use your aging parents against me. That’s totally fair.

  Unable to look into his eyes and deny him his request, Amie’s harsh demeanor fell as he asked her once more to do this favor for him. She stared at the floor as she slowly nodded.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, pulling her into him and putting his arms around her. “We’ll figure this all out, I promise.”

  ***

  With that, Malik told her he was going to shower and then the two of them would discuss the wedding details over an elaborate brunch. He hopped into the ensuite washroom and Amie could hear him fussing from behind the door; grabbing soap and shampoo, starting up the shower and closing the glass doors behind him.

  Amie sat in an oversized chair next to the bed and stared at the floor; shocked.

  Suddenly she felt so… stupid.

  Sure, she’d lied, but it wasn’t as though she didn’t feel guilty about it. In fact, she’d lost sleep over lying to Malik’s family. But it was all supposed to be made right now that they were together. If they were even together. If they were a couple now, what would be so wrong with telling his parents they were still engaged and then just going back to Chicago and seeing where things took them? Why was he making it so complicated? She sighed into her hands, panic overtaking her body.

  Her eyes went wide and she fought off tears as she realized she’d screwed up, yet again. This was supposed to be a dream job, and now it was a nightmare. How could she have been so gullible? They weren’t a couple at all. She was just a part of his act.

  Worse than that… she’d fallen for someone so conniving that he would actually fictionalize his entire life to the people who loved him most. And for what? So he could continue to avoid committing to anyone? She felt sick to her stomach.

  She couldn’t do it.

  Not even for Malik.

  She stared at the bathroom door; her fight or flight instinct suddenly taking over. How long would he be in there for? How much time did she have to run?

  Her heart began pounding a mile a minute as she raced to get dressed and grab her purse, taking off Sadira’s gifted ring and leaving it on the counter. She made her way downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could, picking up a notepad on her way to the front door.

  There were so many things she wanted to say to Malik; how amazing he had made her feel last night, and yet, what an absolute jackass he was. She wanted to scream; to cry; to write a letter detailing every wonderful thing he’d made her feel during their time together and how in one fell swoop he had ripped it all away from her.

  Unfortunately, in the catastrophic time crunch she was under, all she could manage to scribble was:

  I can’t. I’m sorry.

  Amie

  ***

  She left the house terrified that Malik would realize she’d gone and come rushing after her. Usually, when she stormed away from a man she expected him to follow after her, and if he didn’t, he’d be in a world of trouble. This time, though, she didn’t know what to say to him, or how to explain herself. So she rushed to Malik’s personal driver instead.

  Amie took the private car and instructed the driver to take her to the airport. She’d worried at first that he might make a phone call to Malik first, but he instantly complied and made no protest.

  She arrived at the airport in what felt like no time. Funny how all these weeks leaving Malik’s home felt like it took half a day just to get into the city, but the moment she knew she wouldn’t be coming back, the time just flew by.

  The airport was just as she remembered; large, modern and bustling with people. She walked up to the attendant at the information counter and, after a few nervous breaths, requested a ticket on the earliest flight to Chicago O’Hare.

  “That leaves in 90 minutes, if that isn’t too soon for you,” the woman said cheerfully, waiting for Amie’s instruction to proceed with the transaction.

  “That’s fine, thanks,” Amie said flatly.

  This was it. She was going home, never to see Malik or his family again. Maybe he’d show the note she’d left to his family. ‘See? She couldn’t go through with it.’ The thought made her sick. She didn’t want his mother to think she would do that.

  But, she supposed, that’s exactly what she was doing.

  She just couldn’t keep doing this; making the wrong decisions in her life. Pretending to be a couple was a lot different than pretending they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Maybe not entirely different, but it sent her moral compass flying all the same.

  The attendant was staring at her expectantly and Amie blinked as she realized the woman must have said something to her. “I’m sorry, what?” she said clumsily.

  “The price of a one way, non-stop ticket is $1,470. How would you like to pay for that?”

  Ouch.

  “Credit card, definitely,” she sighed and fetched one from her purse, hoping the transaction would go through. Not only had she just lost out on the pay she would receive from this ridiculous job, but now she was out more than a grand trying to escape her bad decision. Great job Amie, great job.

  Lucky for her, the card went through and she was promptly handed an airline ticket. She made her way across the unfamiliar airport to her departure terminal and sat in the waiting area as high-priority ticket holders lined up for boarding. She watched them pass, one by one, with their oversized luggage and overpriced airport coffees, waiting to fly back home to whatever awaited them in the world.

  She stared down at her feet and realized that, much like when she’d first arrived in Rabayat, she still didn’t have any luggage with her. In fact, she hadn’t even grabbed a change of clothes, n
or any of the goodies she’d picked up on her adventures. She was also painfully aware that, unlike many of her fellow passengers, there would be nothing waiting for her when she got home.

  Perhaps this was the universe’s way of telling her she needed to buy a cat.

  She sighed once more, finally standing as they called her ticket class number and a long line quickly formed. Passengers here were no different than in America, she thought; all rude, trying to push ahead so they could board first. Why? To sit and stare until the plane took off, apparently.

  Approaching the flight attendant, she handed over her ticket and showed the woman her passport. It was only when she reached the stairs that she heard a familiar voice shouting her name. She frowned and turned back, bumping into passengers making their way to board.

  “Amie!” came the desperate plea.

  It was Malik; his clothes haplessly tossed on and his hair still wet from the shower. “Amie, thank goodness,” he said, panting for breath. “Don’t do this, I’m begging you.”

  She stared at him, feeling strangely numb. The butterflies that once filled her stomach had turned to stone. “I’m not interested,” she said coldly.

  “Please,” he repeated, grabbing her hands and slowly pulling her away from the departure gate. “Please, Amie, I need you. Please just help me wrap this up and I’ll never ask a thing from you again.”

  And then there was that. He’d scouted her at the theater, made her feel special, and pretended that he had the role of a lifetime waiting for her. Then he’d done the same thing to her that he likely did to their faux wedding officiant. He’d probably gone to see the man’s play and then gushed to him about a private job that would be just perfect for his acting chops.

  Her heart sank. Was it one of the actors from the play the other night?

  Suddenly she felt even more disgusted than before. Maybe Zafina was right, maybe Malik really did hate the theater. Maybe he only went there when he needed a favor done.

  Amie hated where she was; that place where she was disposable to someone. Where she was just a girl to be lied to, and to be used as a lie. Was this just bad luck, or was this the complicated web she’d created for herself?

  She could feel Malik’s eyes on her but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  “I need you, Amie,” he said sweetly, grabbing her hands and tilting his head down to try and look at her face.

  It was as though the man before her had suddenly realized she would be emotionally immovable, no longer done in by his charms, when he tried another tactic.

  “I’ll pay you double.”

  Her heart sped up.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s one million dollars,” he said, as if daring her to say no. “One million because you are that talented an actress and I am that desperate a man. Please see this through with me, Amie.”

  She sneered as she thought it over. One million dollars was a lot of money, for what was admittedly a morally reprehensible job. Still… she could use it. Ridiculously so.

  She stared at him with fire in her eyes; fiery anger for him making such an offer, one he knew she couldn’t say no to.

  Amie sighed audibly and finally nodded. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll honor the wording of my contract, which clearly I need to re-read. I will be your prim and pretty little actress,” she mocked, “but the moment the job is over, I’m done. I’m leaving the night of the ceremony, and after I get my money, I never want to see you or hear from you again. Understand?”

  He looked sullen; the hurt wildly apparent as his features fell into sorrow. He stared at her for a moment, blinked, and then nodded silently.

  “If,” Amie finally added, “that’s what you want.”

  She stared at him, searching his face for any emotion other than sadness. Part of her still hoped he would change his mind and let her look at him the way she used to.

  This was not going to be her happy ending, however, as he quietly affirmed: “Yes. It’s what I want.”

  FIFTEEN

  With their plans for drinks, dinner, and late-night movies out the window, Malik had instead invited his family over for dinner later that evening—apparently hell-bent on getting his money’s worth out of her performance. He watched Amie intensely the whole night, seeming to relish any moment where they had to pretend to be close to one another.

  Normally, when it came to interacting with Malik’s family, Amie would get nervous; sick to her stomach with hopes of making a good impression, but tonight she felt nothing.

  No, in fact, she felt completely in character. She wasn’t Amie, she was Amie Shaw: heiress, theater owner and entrepreneur.

  She was playing the role just perfectly, if she did say so herself. She laughed whenever appropriate, made charming conversation with the parents, and spoke at length with Zafina about her career as a commercial lawyer.

  Malik had spent most of the afternoon fussing over the food, and whatever her current feelings towards him, Amie had to admit that the meal they ate was worthy of being called a feast. The table was piled high with plates of hummus, pita bread, couscous, root vegetables, lamb kofta, and a cardamom rose petal cake that she hadn’t yet sampled but which looked amazing.

  They were nearing the end of the meal when Malik grabbed Amie’s hand over the table and smiled eagerly as he began, “Father, mother, there is something we wanted to tell you and it simply can’t wait any longer.”

  Zafina rolled her eyes as Sadira covered her mouth with her hand and looked expectantly at Amie, awaiting the news.

  “We’re getting married, tomorrow!”

  “I knew it!” Sadira announced.

  Malik’s father smiled and began clapping his hands together with pride. “We had a feeling,” Mahumet said proudly, standing up to hug his son.

  “Oh, Amie!” Sadira gushed. “I’m so excited for you!”

  Amie merely smiled, momentarily unable to speak.

  As it turned out, the “business” Malik had had to take care of the other day was actually booking a large venue and sending out a rush of invitations to dignitaries, friends, and close associates of his family. He’d also managed to book a catering service from a restaurant Amie had loved during her stay in the Middle East. She was in shock when he revealed his plans to her, and couldn’t believe he’d already taken the liberty of making the plans without even consulting her.

  Still, she grinned to his family and talked with feigned girlish glee about the venue, the dress, the ceremony, and—as per Malik’s instructions—how they would be having another ceremony back in Chicago for their American friends and her family.

  “We still have to meet your family!” Sadira insisted; her eyes welling up with tears. “Please, make it so. You must come back with them, all expenses paid, of course.”

  “Of course,” Amie said through half-gritted teeth, shooting Malik a fierce look.

  “We spoke with them last night over the phone,” Malik lied confidently. “They both gave their blessing and can’t wait to meet you.”

  “We can’t either,” Mahumet said with a laugh.

  As Malik’s parents explained how traditional wedding celebrations in Rabayat would last a week or more, depending on the family’s finances, Amie couldn’t help but wonder how the bride didn’t end up with the record of “Worst Hangover Ever” after a full week of partying.

  The festivities, Sadira explained, would begin with a small group of friends and family, and then eventually the entire party would arrive to celebrate with the happy couple. Hundreds of guests, she insisted. Hundreds.

  Amie didn’t even know a hundred people.

  At the wedding, there would be a weeklong feast, complete with henna painting, music, and storytelling. Zafina informed Amie that on one of the days leading up to the ceremony, all of the men in the bridal party would attend a bathhouse and endure an intense cleaning ritual that involved slick shaving and singing.

  Hearing this, Amie’s eyes went wide, but she resisted the urge
to tell Zafina what men in America did the night before the wedding: strippers and beer. Somehow a clean shave and a couple of frat-house jokes seemed much more appealing.

  Still, with the abrupt timing, Sadira said this would have to be a compacted version of a traditional ceremony, and she hoped Amie would still find joy in her smaller wedding. She said there would still be a procession of cars to celebrate, as well as fireworks later in the evening, but everything else would need to be cut down exponentially.

  For his part, Malik’s usually curt father was all smiles and welcoming embraces tonight, giving Malik sound, fatherly advice on how to be a good husband and to lead his household with dignity. In fact, the whole family seemed elated by the spontaneously-booked wedding. Even Zafina sat back in her chair with a broad grin on her face, as though she couldn’t help but be infected by the joyous excitement in the air.