The Billionaire’s Sham Girlfriend: The Beaumont Brothers Book One

by Leslie North

  She hesitated, suddenly unsure about being in the spotlight. This win was a big deal. Why did he even want her there? And who the fuck were those girls? He gestured again, more forcefully this time, the noise and clatter of the people around her growing to a deafening buzz. She moved toward him jerkily, painfully aware of every set of eyes on them, of every camera lens aimed their way.

  “Kara. Come.” Gregor’s voice cut through the noise, and he sounded annoyed, like calling for a stubborn dog. She gritted her teeth, sliding into his embrace. His arm settled around her shoulders but he didn’t talk to her, simply beamed out at the crowd of people surrounding them. In his other hand he held a strangely shaped object, something that looked like fireworks bursting out of a garbage can. It’s his trophy! She stared at it for a moment, trying to discern what it represented.

  This is fucking surreal. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on around her. This was so different than facing a theater full of thousands of people. There, at least, the energy was calm and directed. Here, it was a few shouts short of a mob.

  “You did a great job,” she said, looking up at him and patting his chest. But her voice withered in the noise around them. Gregor glanced down at her, the heat of his embrace making her sweat where their bodies touched. She could only imagine what it might feel like inside that suit of his after two hours of racing.

  His squeeze around her shoulders intensified while he shouted back and forth with someone nearby then erupted into laughter. He turned to her, face shining and flushed, and then leaned down for a kiss.

  Kara’s whole body froze, time slowing to a stop as she registered his nearness on a visceral level before becoming fully conscious of what was happening. She tried to respond, to force herself to lean into it and relax, but the thought of all the thousands of eyes on them, the potential headlines swirling in her head, made her feel like a robot.

  Their lips met awkwardly, like a little kid jamming together doll faces in an attempt to make them kiss. Kara’s mouth jerked open, horror slithering through her as the failure of a kiss dragged on. Gregor pulled away suddenly, leaving her gape mouthed in the air.

  Somebody tugged her away, and Gregor was led to the side, where the cameras were ready. Kara tried to keep the embarrassment off her face, treating this like a flub in a production—the show must go on—but with so many curious eyes around her, the attention felt suffocating.

  She’d failed. Big time.

  Everyone and their brother would know this was a sham after that kiss. And in today’s world, that single moment might define her for the rest of her life.

  The embarrassment grew with each second, prompting the pulse in her chest to turn into a throb: It’s time to leave. You can’t do this. You made the wrong choice.

  6

  Gregor sat at a line of tables in the press room, ears still ringing from the boisterous crowd in winner’s circle. He stared at the table as a reporter shuffled some papers, preparing for his next question. His body still buzzed with the high of the win, but plenty of other thoughts shuddered through his mind, demanding his attention.

  His gaze flicked over to Kara, who leaned against the wall, her face expressionless. Their strange kiss weighed on him. He’d never had a kiss so bad. Definitely not what he’d expected from the sexy brunette everyone now knew as his girlfriend. He’d think about it later.

  “Now, with reference to the engine tweaks you’ve touted,” the reporter began and rattled off a technical question that Gregor answered with enthusiasm. The room murmured at his response, several cameras flashing.

  His pit crew manager answered the next question about performance variability, and then a new reporter stood up to question him.

  “Yes, I’d like to ask, how long has Kregor been happening?”

  Gregor furrowed a brow, unsure what he was being asked. “Pardon?”

  “Kregor,” the reporter said again. “You know…your celebrity-couple nickname?” After a tense moment of silence on Gregor’s part, the reporter offered, “Kara and Gregor make Kregor.”

  Gregor blinked, glancing at Kara. She looked stunned, shrugging. He cleared his throat, leaning toward the microphone. “I wasn’t aware we had a celebrity-couple nickname.”

  “Well, how long have you two been an item? Do you think she might have been your lucky charm today in your unexpected win?”

  Gregor glowered, his jaw tensing. He swallowed his initial response, which was to tell the reporter to fuck off, that he didn’t need charms to win—he won because of his hard work and the hard work of his goddamn crew. Luck didn’t exist in Formula One, only blood, sweat, and tears did.

  But he wouldn’t give the press an explosion. They didn’t deserve that field day. “Kara is a lot of things to me,” he finally said, measuring his words. “But we won today because we have a high-performing engine and a dedicated crew.”

  The rest of the interview proceeded as they normally did, full of technical questions and lots of photos, but Gregor couldn’t shake the offense from that suggestion. To think that Kara had anything to do with his win was...absurd. Furthermore, why would her name figure first in the nickname? It seemed like a usurping of his identity. Why couldn’t it be Gregra or something equally silly?

  By the time the interview broke, Gregor was lost in his own world. He wrapped up a few things with the pit crew, snatched up his bizarrely shaped trophy, and then headed down the hallway, Kara hot on his heels.

  She was quiet on the way to the car. When they slid into the backseat, silence filled the car. Just as he was about to break the tension, his phone rang. He fumbled to extract it from the deep pocket of his jumpsuit.

  It was his younger brother, Alistair. When he answered, Alistair was hooting on the other end.

  “You fucking did it, brother!” Alistair screamed again, which made Gregor laugh. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

  “I really wish you’d be more excited for me,” Gregor deadpanned.

  “Impossible. Now listen, what are you going to be doing tonight to celebrate with that sexy new girlfriend of yours?”

  Gregor glanced over at Kara. Her pink cheeks told him that she’d overheard his boisterous brother. “I can’t discuss those details with you. It just wouldn’t be proper.”

  Alistair cackled. “Listen, I just hope I can find one as hot as yours.”

  “Are you finally ready to settle down?” Gregor faked the serious tone their grandfather had always used when discussing the subject.

  “God, no. I’ve tasked my assistant with teasing out the right candidate for the job. Shouldn’t be long. I’ll be as decently settled as one could expect.”

  Gregor smirked. Alistair was notoriously rash, often making very large decisions on a whim, which could sometimes succeed…or backfire spectacularly. Handing off this task to his assistant, who knew him better than maybe anyone, seemed to be the best approach.

  The brothers chatted for a bit longer, and when Gregor realized they were nearing the hotel, he hung up, pocketing the phone. Kara stared out the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Gregor thanked the driver after they stopped at the lobby doors. He and Kara walked through the hotel without speaking.

  His brother’s update had broken through his bad mood from the interview. And it was only during the elevator ride up to the penthouse that he realized Kara was…off.

  “Hey.” He squeezed the back of her arm. She yanked her gaze up to meet his. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Just…processing, I guess.” She offered a weak smile, crossing her arms over her chest. When the doors slid open, he followed her into the suite. She tossed her sunhat on the coffee table, then turned on her heel, a new energy possessing her.

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking.” Her tone made his stomach drop. “I’ve made a mistake.”

  He creased a brow, unzipping the front of his jumpsuit as her words clattered against his gut. “About what?”

  “About this.” She gestured around them.
“I don’t think I can do it. I’m not cut out for it.”

  Panic sliced through him, and he stilled, staring at her. “Come again?”

  “I’m going to book a flight home. I’ll return all the fancy clothes you sent me out to buy. I just need to get away from this. It doesn’t feel right. This isn’t a good fit.”

  Gregor scarcely breathed as her words settled inside him. He searched her face for some sort of sign that she was kidding, or he’d somehow misinterpreted everything she’d said. “I’m sorry…beg pardon?”

  She groaned. “Gregor, come on! You can’t actually think this will work, right?”

  “Of course I do. It’s why I asked you to do this with me.”

  “Yeah, but you would have asked almost anyone. I’m sure you asked plenty of others before me, too.”

  Gregor scoffed. “I did not, as a matter of fact. You were the only one. What is going on? Why are you suggesting this?”

  She hesitated, her gaze on the floor. “It’s just obvious to me now.”

  “But why? How? What am I missing?”

  Kara huffed, avoiding his gaze. “I’m embarrassed to even say it.”

  “Oh, spit it out already! I need to know, if this is going to work. Or even if it’s not.”

  “That kiss.” Her neck flushed, and she gnawed at the inside of her lip. God, she was pretty when that creamy skin lit up.

  Realization crept through him. And he didn’t beat around the bush. “It was bad.”

  She frowned, picking at invisible lint on her dress. “I think it ruined whatever we had going. Everyone’s going to know this is fake. I just…I’d rather back out now than have this be a thing later on down the road.”

  He sighed, unzipping his jumpsuit all the way. Underneath he wore a pair of track shorts and a simple tee, all of which clung to his sweat stained body. He shrugged the suit off, considering his next words.

  “I don’t think that sole kiss is a reason to call the whole thing off,” he said softly, searching out her gaze. “Things like that happen to every couple. Especially new couples. Which, for all intents and purposes, we are.”

  She shrugged, sniffing.

  “Besides, I didn’t even warn you. I was swept up in the moment. I should have prepared you or at least told you beforehand. I promise, the next one will not happen like that.” His gaze fell to her lips, and in his head he added, I want to kiss you and have you kiss me back.

  Kara nodded, raking a hand through her hair. “Yeah, but I just feel like the tabloids are going to make a mockery of it. Of me. Of the whole damn thing.”

  “Well, they would have eventually, with or without that kiss, I’m sure of it.” He stepped closer, squeezing the sides of her arms. She jerked her gaze up to meet his, and he saw doubt shining in her eyes. “Their job is to pick apart and excoriate. You just can’t take it personally.” He paused, remembering the reporter’s comment from the interview. “Besides, we have a nickname now. You can’t just walk away from that.”

  She laughed.

  “Listen, I get that you want to back out, but think of the deal. I’m not only buying the theater for you, including all the operational costs for the first year. I’ll also throw in some sort of scholarship that pays for ten low-income students to attend. Wouldn’t that make a difference?”

  Kara looked up at him, her eyes are watery. “Are you serious right now?”

  He cracked a grin. “Deadly.”

  She groaned. “Fine. The deal is on. God, you’re good at negotiating. And consoling, for that matter.”

  Gregor tugged her into a hug, and once her arms were wrapped around his waist, he realized he’d done it because he wanted to. The soft pressure of her body against his was comforting in a way he hadn’t expected. And maybe he’d needed it more than she did.

  They stayed like that for a few moments, until Kara pulled away.

  “We need to work on this,” she said, dragging her hand through her hair again. She headed for the windows along the far wall, walking with quick steps. “I know some exercises we can do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Trust-building exercises. Ways to get to know one another, work on our…chemistry.” She glanced up at him, then looked away. “Things like that.”

  Gregor picked up his jumpsuit from where he’d dropped it. He knew one thing that would help their chemistry. But it had nothing to do with theater exercises and everything to do with sharing the same bed for a night.

  “Deal,” he said. “Let’s start tonight. I need a shower first.”

  As he headed for the bathroom, Gregor couldn’t rid himself of the idea of inviting her to shower with him. That would be the quickest route to his preferred “exercise.” His heart pulsed faster, and he stopped, turning back toward the large living area before he could think better of it.

  “Unless, of course, you’d like to join me in the shower for our first intimacy session?” He winked at her, delighting at the stricken look on her face. She didn’t respond, so he took her silence as his answer. “Another time, then.” He sent her a smile and stepped into the bathroom, the disappointment settling heavily inside him.

  He wanted to take it there…badly.

  And hopefully in time they would get there.

  7

  Kara paced the penthouse while Gregor showered, the distant rush of water acting like a stimulant. What if she’d said yes? Dammit, she’d wanted to say yes. But she couldn’t speak around this man sometimes; he reduced her to a bumbling adolescent with those heartbreaking smiles and the baby blues. Christ on a stick, get your shit together, Kara.

  She posed herself around the room while he finished up his shower, trying to find the position that looked the most casual, unaffected. Though probably he’d destroy that façade in an instant with one suggestion or heated look. Was he into her? The question echoed through her head like a megaphone through a tunnel. How big was his penis? She swallowed hard, shifting on the couch. She could have found out, if she wanted to. He…and his penis…were mere feet away. He’d given her an invitation to see, and possibly touch, his penis, and she’d refused.

  She plumped the pillows behind her and then settled into them. Nothing felt right. She sighed, tearing off the flowy top she’d worn, opting instead for the simple tank beneath. Her breasts spilled out of it, but maybe that was for the better. Let him get another glimpse of the girls, since he’d seemed to like them so much the other night at the opera.

  When Gregor sauntered out ten minutes later, he looked sparkling and new, running his hand through damp hair. He wore white shorts and a blue checked button-up, looking like the quintessential upper-class British man. He settled onto the couch next to her, releasing a contented sigh.

  “Good shower?” She picked at the couch, trying to keep her cool. She was an actress, for God’s sake. But apparently all her schooling and skills flew out the window around this guy.

  “It was fine. Could have been better.” He winked at her again, and her insides melted. No wonder Gregor had a trail of women behind him. He was too good at this.

  “Any idea on where we should start?” She tucked her legs under her, aware that her cleavage was on display. Gregor glanced down once, but only quickly. He shook his head.

  “I thought maybe we could…invent some history.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling ideas burble to life. “We can ad-lib stories that sound real, things that will convince friends and family that we’re serious. You know, details to use when people ask us questions.”

  “Ah, yes. Brilliant.” Gregor cleared his throat, studying something in the distance. “Like, for example…where we met. And what our first date was.”

  “Exactly.” She paused, something else coming to her. “And we should have some fun memories. Like, you know, stupid stuff.”

  He nodded, the blue of his eyes zinging through her. “They’re going to ask if we’re in love, you know.”

  She blinked. “Well…”

  “And where our first kiss w
as. All sorts of intrusive things.”

  “Good. I mean, it’s good to be prepared. And we definitely won’t tell them our first kiss was actually in the winner’s circle. In front of ten thousand people.”

  “You know, I think we should have a redo.” Gregor squinted at her, mischief in his gaze. “We need to practice.”

  Kara balked, but she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to kiss this man. Desperately. But she wanted it to be real, not part of this con. Even so, she couldn’t deny the logic of it. They were going to have to kiss on camera. Practice was part of the job. “Okay. Maybe later.”

  “Now.” Gregor’s tone left no room for questions. He cupped her ankle where it stuck out from beneath her, rubbing a thumb over the jutting bone there, looking up at her with an expression somewhere between inquisitive and imploring.

  She nodded, and Gregor scooted closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch. Kara moved into the space there, swallowing a knot in her throat. From up close, in the quiet of the penthouse, his features were captivating, and his energy soothed her. There was something calming about being so close to him, yet it also titillated. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Gregor cupped the side of her face, his rough fingers sending shivers up and down her spine.

  He watched her for a moment and then leaned forward, his lips meeting hers softly. Their kiss was sweet and prolonged, but still Kara’s heart raced so fast she thought she might faint. When they parted, Kara figured that would be the end of it.

  But Gregor leaned in again, this time prompting her mouth to open, his tongue pressing in to find hers. She responded fluidly, releasing into him, their tongues meeting in a soft and languid dance in the middle. Desire shot through her, her lips buzzing as the kiss deepened and then repeated, over and over again. The sound of their kisses registered distantly to her. She moaned unwittingly, Gregor’s hand moving to the back of her neck.