The Boss's Fake Fiancee

by Inara Scott

  Melissa was, as they said, “an open book.” And Garth, she was quickly realizing, was astonishingly wealthy.

  Though Brit had made them all quite comfortable when he took Excorp public three years before, Melissa hadn’t grown up with money. Even after Excorp became profitable, she’d always deposited her share of the family fortune directly into an investment account. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the money—she fully intended to use it as a trust fund for her kids, if she was ever lucky enough to have any—but she refused to let herself become dependent on it. Melissa had spent her whole life living in the shadow of her successful older brothers, and once she’d had the opportunity to make her own way in the world, she’d left New York and vowed not to come back until she was just as successful as they were.

  And look how well that turned out…

  Melissa pushed the dark thought from her head and focused on her surroundings. Regardless of how much Brit had made, the Bencher family fortune couldn’t begin to rival this. After driving through what had to have been acres of green lawns, dotted with enormous old trees, the gardens began. It was October, so there was nothing in bloom, but throughout the carefully tended beds there were low shrubs with fiery red leaves mixed with spreading evergreens, and all around them were soaring maples, birches, and oaks dusting the sky with their mix of sunset-colored leaves. Melissa wasn’t a real estate expert by any means, but she knew there weren’t many properties, even in Scarsdale, with grounds like this.

  Finally, the driveway curved around to give Melissa her first view of the house. She could barely stifle an indrawn breath at the beautiful sight. The graceful old Colonial-style structure had pristine white siding and crisp black shutters, with a wide brick path leading to a columned front porch. The house had the feeling of early America in the simple design and multi-paned windows, yet had obviously been updated for twentieth-century luxury.

  Garth slowed to a stop beside the entrance to the brick walkway and turned off the car. “Before we go in,” he said, “I have a few ground rules of my own.”

  Melissa deliberately turned away, peering into the side view mirror to fluff her bangs. “I don’t think I like your rules.”

  Garth ignored her protest. “You are about to meet two people. One is Nan. She really wants to believe this whole engagement story, so she shouldn’t be too hard to convince. Her mind is still sharp, but she does get confused sometimes. She’s eighty-five, and the pneumonia has taken a toll on her. She’s quite fragile, really, though she refuses to believe it.”

  Melissa nodded, suddenly contrite. “I understand. And I’m sorry. That must be hard for you.”

  He blinked, as if not expecting her sympathy. “Yes. Well, thank you, but it’s fine.” Seeming slightly flustered, he brushed past the moment. “At any rate, the other person you’ll meet is Jessalyn.”

  Melissa waited. “Aaand…?”

  “She’s going to be a little grumpy this morning. I haven’t seen her since this all went down yesterday and I didn’t want to call her about it last night because I knew she’d give me hell.”

  Before Melissa could ask exactly who the grumpy Jessalyn was, or why Garth didn’t want to make her mad, he leaned over her lap to peek out the passenger side window of the car. Then he leaned back and swore.

  “Sorry, no time to explain. She’s come out to meet the car. Just be strong and don’t show any weakness.”

  With that dire statement, he threw open his door and jumped out.

  Don’t show any weakness?

  Melissa took a deep breath and got out of the car. A woman was walking toward them, moving at a significant clip. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five and had short hair dyed hot pink at the ends. She wore ripped jeans and a white button-down shirt tied in a knot at the waist. The angry flare of her pierced nose and the position of her tattooed arms—tightly crossed over her chest—perfectly illustrated her feelings about Garth’s engagement.

  She didn’t like it one bit.

  “I guess you’ve heard the news?” Garth came around the back end of the car and stood beside Melissa. She felt oddly glad for his proximity, though the woman was several inches shorter than she was, and had no visible weapon.

  “Is this an f-ing joke? Engaged? You?”

  Garth winced. “Sorry, Jess, but it’s all true.”

  Jess held up a cell phone and pointed it at Garth’s face. On the screen, Melissa caught a look at a picture of herself emerging from Hadrien, Garth’s arm curved protectively around her waist. She didn’t even remember him touching her at that moment, probably because she had been in such a fog at the time over their mind-boggling kiss. “It’s on Twitter, Garth. I heard about your engagement from Twitter!”

  “Jess, I was going to—”

  Garth broke off as she shook her head and then tucked the phone in her back pocket. “Whatever. I’m just the housekeeper. No reason to tell me.”

  “It happened fast,” Garth said quickly. “I should have sent you a note last night, but I was overwhelmed with calls.”

  Melissa glanced at him, fascinated by the apology in his voice. This wasn’t the ultra-confident boss who walked into meetings and made decisions with a single word, or the man who signed million-dollar contacts without a moment’s hesitation. This was a man who didn’t want to get in trouble.

  Instantly, Melissa decided that she loved this pink-haired virago, with her utter and complete confidence and ability to scold Garth Solen with impunity. She vaguely reminded Melissa of Tori, albeit in pierced, tattooed sort of way.

  She carefully extended her hand, fully aware that Jess’s anger could come her way next. Were they really getting married, Melissa decided Jess would be an invaluable ally—or a terrifying enemy. “I’m Melissa Bencher, the fiancée. Nice to meet you.”

  Jess stared, examining her inch by inch, from Melissa’s simple flats and knee-length black skirt to her cherry red coat. Melissa had thrown together an outfit in a matter of minutes, and she hoped the other woman wouldn’t notice the run in her hose that was slowly inching from her ankle toward her calf.

  The housekeeper’s gaze came to rest on Melissa’s outstretched hand, and the ring sparkling on her finger. “Jessalyn Cislo.”

  They shook hands. Melissa winced when Jessalyn squeezed hard enough to make the ring pinch her fingers. “Nice to meet you,” she said, gulping.

  “Hmph.” From Jessalyn’s noncommittal noise, it was clear that she would decide later if she was pleased to meet Melissa or not. She kept hold of Melissa’s hand and tugged just hard enough to make her stumble forward. When she was only a few inches away, Jessalyn held the ring closer to her face to examine it.

  “Wait.” She narrowed her gaze at Melissa, and then looked over at Garth. “Isn’t that—”

  “Jess,” Garth’s voice held a warning.

  “I just noticed—” Jessalyn started to say, but then trailed off at the look in Garth’s eyes.

  “Why don’t you keep your observations to yourself?” he suggested.

  They matched stares and in an instant, Garth reasserted himself as boss. Melissa watched, fascinated, dying to know what they were talking about.

  Jessalyn looked away first. “Way to overreact,” she muttered under her breath. With an obvious about-face, she said in a formal tone, “Will you be needing lunch, sir?”

  “Yes, something light,” Garth replied, ignoring the sarcasm. “Do you know if Nan’s awake?”

  “She just finished her morning nap. Nurse Margaret is with her.” Jess raised her nose in the air and stomped off toward the house. That was when Melissa noticed her combat boots. And the pink socks that matched the tips of her hair.

  “I think she likes you,” Garth offered.

  Melissa turned to look at him. “Are you kidding?”

  “She didn’t kill us,” Garth replied. “That says a lot.”

  Jessalyn stopped at the front door. She opened it a few feet, and three small whirlwinds of fur and legs rushed out and ran dow
n the path at an astonishing speed. When they arrived at the end of the path, they leaped in the air at Garth’s feet.

  Melissa’s mouth dropped open. In all her fantasies about her boss, she’d never imagined him surrounded by little white dogs. “Um, wow,” she breathed.

  Two of the dogs were barking with apparent joy, while one sat down and howled, then resumed jumping. At the sound of her voice, the howler broke away and bounded to her side. It had silky white hair that partially covered its eyes, and a pink, panting tongue. When she crouched down to pet it, the dog leaned into her hand for a moment before flopping onto its back for a tummy rub.

  Garth bent over to pet one of the two dogs that continued begging for his attention. “Han, Luke, enough.” At his warning tone, they stopped barking, but continued to leap with increasing fervor. Finally, he picked up the smaller of the two—a brown and white ball of squirming hair and legs—and held it in his arms. The dog immediately settled down with what Melissa could only describe as a smile on its face.

  “What kind of dogs are they?” she asked.

  Garth scowled at her. “Havanese. They’re Nan’s dogs.”

  “Of course they are,” she said gravely.

  “They are!”

  “I can see that,” Melissa said. She’d never heard of the breed before, but they had long muzzles with dark noses, and when they stood, their tails waved behind them like cheerful flags. None of the three looked much more than ten pounds, though it was hard to tell with all that hair. “And their names are Han and Luke?”

  “The other one is Chewbacca,” Jessalyn called, as she made her way back toward them. “In case you were wondering.”

  “You’re a Star Wars fan,” Melissa said with a smile. “I should have known.”

  “Nan named them, not me,” Garth said, a trifle defensively.

  “He’s lying, isn’t he?” Melissa asked Jessalyn.

  The other woman shook her head. “I need to keep my job. I’m not saying a word.”

  “Smart move,” Garth said. “Nan’s obsessed with rescuing strays,” he said, in what seemed to Melissa to be an obvious attempt to change the subject. “These three were born at a puppy mill that was closed because of the inhumane conditions. The dogs were in terrible condition, so of course Nan had to step in.” He put down the dog he’d been holding and picked up the other one, who immediately tried to lick him in the face. Garth carefully held the happy creature so its tongue could not reach him. He petted the dog behind the ears for a moment before setting it back on the ground.

  Jessalyn snorted. “I’ll take Nan’s dogs for a little walk. You two go ahead in.” She whistled and started walking toward the back of the house. With one last longing look in Garth’s direction, the white blobs of fur ran off behind her.

  Melissa stifled a giggle as they walked through the front door. Garth and small white fluffy dogs? If she’d read it in a tabloid, she never would have believed it.

  “They’re sweet.”

  “They’re ridiculous,” Garth groused. “They don’t deserve to be called dogs.”

  “Clearly, they are beneath you.” Melissa snickered. “I mean, literally. Since they’re the size of hamsters.”

  Garth glared at her as they walked through the front door. “I’ll have you know Luke weighs eleven pounds.”

  Melissa paused. “Right. That would be a really big hamster. Guinea pig, maybe? Rabbit?”

  Garth stopped to set his keys on a marble pedestal table by the door, and Melissa completely forgot about the dogs as she took in the beauty of the house. The front foyer had a white marble floor leading to a huge, curving staircase at the far end. Smooth, highly polished wood floors ran in every other direction as far as she could see, and a rich, lemony scent permeated the air. On one side of the entry lay a formal sitting room, with several brocade, stiff-backed chairs, a Queen Anne sofa, and a thick Oriental rug. On the other side of the hall was a formal dining room, with a mahogany table and crystal chandelier. In every direction, the sun sparkled through multi-paned windows.

  This, at least, she had expected—a breathtaking mansion, filled with priceless antiques and works of art. The little white dogs and bossy housekeeper, not so much.

  They proceeded down a hallway that lay to one side of the staircase. Garth waved toward the left as they walked past an arched entryway. “Kitchen and great room are over there, along with the sun porch, my office, and the library. Bedrooms are on the second floor. Nan’s rooms are in back.”

  Every piece of furniture and art seemed to fit together seamlessly. The style was traditional and muted, but woven rugs, vases filled with flowers, and huge oil paintings provided spots of color that tied everything together.

  For an apartment dweller, the house seemed to reverberate with space and silence. Although her building mostly housed other professionals, Melissa’s next-door neighbor liked to play opera while he prepared dinner, and the resident in the apartment above her engaged in some kind of high-impact aerobics every night at eight—or at least that was what it sounded like. Not to mention that the only natural light entering her apartment came from two small windows in the combination living room/kitchen/study/dining area that represented 350 feet of her 600 square-foot apartment. Melissa could feel her shoulders dropping and some knot in her stomach untying as she eased through the beautiful space.

  “You have an incredible home,” she said, trying not to think about the final piece of their journey, and the woman at the other end of the hall. After meeting Jess, Melissa figured all bets were off. Garth’s grandmother could be a domineering matriarch or a flighty old heiress. At this point, nothing would surprise her.

  “Thank you,” Garth replied, sending her a quick look as if to gauge her sincerity. “I bought it about five years ago. We updated a few things, but mostly left it as it was. The main house is almost one hundred years old, though Nan’s rooms are a more recent addition.”

  “Has she always lived with you?”

  “No. She prefers to live on her own. Or, I suppose, she preferred to live on her own. Until the pneumonia. Even she couldn’t fight this one. They had her in the hospital for almost a week.”

  Melissa shot him a sideways glance. Though his expression had not changed, she was learning to identify the restrained emotion in his voice. The terse note spoke volumes about the pain the situation had caused. “She must have been glad to get out of there.”

  Garth paused to adjust a painting that, to Melissa’s eyes, appeared perfectly straight. “The doctors wanted to keep her, but being at the hospital was making her sicker than the pneumonia. Nurses and doctors always coming and going. Noise, bright lights. No view of anything green and beautiful. And of course, no dogs. I think she misses them more than anything else.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Before my niece was born, my sister-in-law Felicity had to spend a couple of weeks in the hospital with preeclampsia. She said the labor was easier than the hospital stay. She described it as a weird combination of being lonely and crowded, all at the same time.”

  Garth shot her a surprised look. “That’s exactly what Nan said. She said if I didn’t get her released, she was going to walk out of there herself. And damned if she wouldn’t have tried it, too.”

  “No place like home, I suppose.” Melissa stopped for a moment to admire a delicate Chinese vase. “My apartment isn’t much, but I must admit, I’ve grown pretty attached to it.”

  “How long have you been there?” Garth asked.

  “Just a year. It reminds me of our old house in Queens.” She smiled at the memory. “Everyone else in the family hated it because it was drafty and cold in the winter and hot and stuffy in the summer, but I loved that place. I liked to imagine the other kids who had lived there before me, and what their lives might have been like.”

  “Do your parents still live there?” Garth asked.

  “No, they sold the place when my dad retired. Now they have a little condo in SoHo. They like it because it’s close to m
useums and the art scene. But it’s not the same.”

  She remembered how she’d cried when her dad told her that he’d sold the house. It had been one of their few fights—she’d felt betrayed by her parents’ failure to warn her that he was selling. She was already out of the house at the time, finishing up graduate school, so it wasn’t like they needed her permission. But she’d have bought the place in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity. Knowing it was gone felt like losing a piece of her childhood.

  “You miss the old place,” Garth supplied.

  She nodded, blinking back an unexpected wave of melancholy. “I do. What about you? Do you miss the house you grew up in?

  “I moved a few times,” Garth said. “It wasn’t the same.”

  Though his tone was dismissive, Melissa recalled with a wince that his parents had died when he was young. No wonder he was so attached to his grandmother.

  They continued walking, stopping at the end of the hall. Garth rapped gently on a white-framed door. Melissa steeled herself. She was about to meet the woman he would, apparently, do anything to protect. She tried to picture an 85-year-old version of Garth who believed the stories she read in tabloids and loved little white dogs, but the picture wouldn’t compute. Then again, the deeper Melissa got into this house, the less any of this computed.

  “Come in,” a high-pitched voice replied.

  Garth opened the door to an expansive room, dominated on one end by an adjustable bed and a collection of red-eyed, blinking machines. A middle-aged woman—presumably the nurse—leaned over the bed, obscuring Melissa’s view of his grandmother, while a blood pressure machine beeped beside them. On the far end of the room, a set of French doors and a bank of windows looked out onto a veranda, gardens, and what appeared to be a swimming pool.

  “No more talking,” the nurse reproved her patient. “It throws off the results.”

  “Is everything okay?” Garth asked immediately.

  “Fine,” the nurse replied, sounding as if she’d answered that question many times before. She wore a pair of thick-soled sneakers, white pants, and a multi-colored hospital scrub shirt. “Just doing the vitals.”