Fake Wife Needed (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Mia Carson

  “Think we’re ready for this?” he asked, resting his hands on her hips in the living room.

  “No,” she replied honestly with a light laugh. “But with you? I could take on the world.”

  Max bent and brushed his lips across hers. “Then let’s go conquer the world together,” he whispered, and she melted into his arms—safe. Finally safe and finally home.

  PRETEND BOYFRIEND

  I’ve had my share of women wanting me for my money and body, and I was done!

  Not even the fiery hot, talented actress can change my mind.

  But Grace is the right person for one tiny role – a loving fiancée for a weekend cruise with my family.

  No audition required.

  We struck a good deal - one weekend as my perfect fiancée.

  That’s it.

  But the weekend didn’t go exactly as I planned, though it wasn’t her fault.

  She played the role well.

  Perhaps too well. Even in bed.

  1

  In the darkness of the sleek black limo, Chase knew the color of the single malt scotch in his glass. He sipped it, holding his cell to his ear with his free hand, and let the scotch glide down his throat. Sweet for its age, the five-hundred-dollar-per-bottle Highland Park 30 was the only thing to settle his nerves. After several days like today, he needed more than just one glass.

  “Listen, that’s not the problem,” he said to his soon-to-be business partner, Frankie Cole.

  “What is your problem, Valentine?”

  Chase frowned as he sipped. He hated being called by his last name, like he was some damn cupid. “The problem,” he answered after another long beat, “is whether you’re going to be able to pull together your funds or not. I can’t wait forever, Frankie.”

  “You can wait as long as you damn want to. You’re the boss,” Frankie reminded him with a chuckle.

  Chase laughed with him, a deep sound reverberating through his six-and-a-half-foot frame. He took up most of one side of the limo’s seats, lounging his viking-like frame over the leather. He set his glass down to push his shoulder-length brown hair from his face. “Yes, but I have a board of directors. You know how those old men can be.”

  “I’ll have the money in time,” Frankie promised. “Just waiting on a few last minute assets to pan out.”

  “Good, because I’d hate to see you miss out on this. We’re going to make millions together, my friend, and leaving you behind just seems wrong,” he said sincerely.

  Chase settled back against his seat and thought of how Frankie and he had started out together—until his friend branched off on his own, taking a completely different path in life. But if you wanted a good business venture, nothing in Seattle could compete with C.V. Tectonics, the architectural firm built by Chase’s father and now run by himself.

  “Where are you now? Want to meet up?”

  “Can’t. On my way to the theater district,” Chase told him and took another long sip of his scotch, letting the toffee taste settle on his tongue before he swallowed. “Last play before we start renovating the whole area.”

  Frankie laughed. “Oh man, I didn’t know you were into watching plays. I would’ve sent you more tickets.”

  “I’m not, but I was invited by the man running the project,” he muttered, wondering if he had time for another drink before reaching the theater. He didn’t even know the name of the damn play. He reached for the bottle and stopped. He was better than that… but then again… He grabbed the bottle and filled his glass to the rim.

  Frankie said he’d be in touch by the following Monday and left Chase to wallow in his misery for the evening. Tossing his cell on the seat, he closed his eyes, working on disappearing—mentally, at least—from the limo, but when shrill ringing echoed around him, he groaned at his failure. His irritation only got worse when he saw who was calling.

  “Hey, Dad. What’s going on?” he asked, hoping he sounded in a good mood.

  “Can’t a father call to check in on his son?” his dad—the man he was named after—asked lightly. “I haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

  “It’s been two days. You just talked to me,” Chase said, seriously considering adding more scotch to his glass. “Something on your mind or did Mom make you call me?”

  He sighed on the other end. “She worries that you’ll be too busy to make the cruise this weekend. You know how important these events are to her, and we’d like to meet that woman you’re going to marry. Better be tolerable after the last one you introduced to us.”

  Choking on his scotch, Chase struggled to get air, coughing and hacking loud enough for his driver to lower the divide and ask quietly if he was alright. “Fine… fine, thank you, Dexter,” he told him with a grin. Dexter frowned but put the divide back up.

  “Chase? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Went down the wrong pipe,” he muttered.

  “That’s not possible,” his dad replied, and Chase rolled his eyes. “You are bringing your fiancée? It’s high-time I meet the woman who stole my son’s heart. She’s marrying the company as much as she’s marrying you, you know,” his dad said seriously. “Have to make sure she’s a good fit for us all.”

  Chase nodded and set his glass down. “Oh she is, Dad, no doubts there. She’s perfect.”

  “Good, good. Your mother will be thrilled. Remember, the cruise leaves at sunset on Friday night. Don’t be late.”

  He promised he’d be there with his fiancée and hung up his cell. “Shit,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. For a while, they’d let the whole finding a wife issue go, and Chase enjoyed two years of being with who he wanted when he wanted, desperate to live life to the fullest his money could buy.

  Having his heart yanked out, stomped on, and set on fire once was enough. He had trust issues to begin with, but after that woman destroyed him, he barely trusted anyone but himself. Not even his parents, in some instances. A string of women using him for one thing or another was the norm. Now, he used women like they used him and dumped them just as fast.

  He sighed, glaring out the window. A fiancée. He had completely forgotten the lie he’d told nearly a year ago about finding a new woman to get his mom off his back, and now they wanted to meet this imaginary woman. What the hell was he going to do?

  “Sir, we’re here,” Dexter said after the divide lowered again.

  “Great, that’s great,” he replied absently as he straightened his jacket and tie while Dexter walked around to let him out. “You may leave for the duration of the play if you wish, or you can stay. I have an extra ticket.” He pulled it from his pocket and waved it in front of Dexter.

  His driver, an older man with graying hair, chuckled. “Never much for theater, sir. My wife maybe. I will be here when it’s over.”

  Chase sighed and tucked the ticket away. “Suit yourself,” he said and walked with the rest of the forming crowd up the stone steps outside the old theater and through the gilded doors.

  Theaters stretched up and down this section of street, making up the small district that had been around for decades. It was in need of a desperate face-lift, architecturally as well as technologically. The buildings crumbled at the edges from the constant Seattle damp and were in need of attention to bring them into the new age. No more stone gargoyles or archways. No, Chase and his designers had something much more modern in mind while keeping to a true art form. The man in charge wished for the artful modernization – the man waiting for Chase right inside the lobby.

  “Ah, Mr. Valentine.” Theodore beamed, his bald head gleaming and his gut tucked into a tux.

  Chase gritted his teeth but grinned as he shook his hand. “Chase is fine,” he insisted. “Quite the turnout tonight.”

  “Yes, we’re sold out. Our leading lady has been amazing.”

  “Good. I trust everyone is on board with renovations starting next week?”

  Theodore motioned for them to move inwards as he nodded. “We’re clearing out
the rest of the theaters this weekend. No problems so far.”

  “Do you need me? I could always be of some use,” Chase asked, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate, but Theodore laughed and patted him on the back.

  “Just enjoy the show tonight, on the house,” Theodore said. “You have one of the private boxes. Thought you might like the privacy more than being crammed onto the main floor.”

  Chase smiled appreciatively. Yet another reason these old theaters needed to be redone. They were so tightly packed with seats, people couldn’t watch the show in peace without feeling as if they were sitting on their neighbor’s lap. He followed Theodore’s directions up several flights of stairs and finally to his private box for the evening. A waiter stood outside and told Chase if he needed anything at all to simply push the button beside his chair.

  Chase wasn’t in the mood for anything, though, and considered sleeping off his scotch while the players performed. He stared at the program on his seat. “Downward-Facing Debbie—what the hell am I watching tonight?” he asked quietly as he sat down.

  The play was about a woman and yoga. Chase scrunched his face, settled into his chair, and did his best to not hate being there. Watching the play was business, plain and simple. Besides, the hour-and-a-half performance would give him to time to ponder his current predicament: who to bring with him on the cruise for his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary.

  By the time the curtain went up, he was still at a loss… until the leading lady walked onto the stage and caught Chase’s full attention. Money bought him anything he could ever want in his life. Why not a fiancée as well?

  When the play ended and the curtain fell, Chase hurried out of his private box in search of Theodore. Throughout, he’d watched the leading woman closely—the way she moved, the graceful, lithe body as she did yoga on the stage. She was the perfect woman for his parents to meet, and hell, she was a damn actress. Having her act like his fiancée all weekend would be a walk in the park for her.

  “Ah, Mr. Valentine! You look as if you truly enjoyed the play,” Theodore called out when Chase reached the lobby. “What did you think?”

  “I think I would love to be introduced to your leading lady, if I may,” he said quickly, hoping he hadn’t missed his chance.

  “But of course. If you’d wait by the stage, I’ll send her out when she’s finished changing,” Theodore said with a glint in his eyes, chuckling as he walked away.

  Chase thought of calling after him that it wasn’t for any other reason than a business proposition but let him walk away. Let the old man think what he wanted. Chase had no intention of dating this woman he wanted to hire for a job. He would get through the cruise and tell his parents later it hadn’t worked out and he was back to being a bachelor, probably for good. His life was better that way, less complicated. There was nothing to fear if he were alone, enjoying his one-night trysts with women who were drawn to his money and power.

  He needed nothing else in his life to be content, though never necessarily happy.

  When he reached the stage, he paced back and forth, one hand shoved deep in his pocket while the other tugged at his tie. He hated the damn thing and finally yanked it off, stuffing it in his pocket. The small, silver pendant he wore, an old Norse coin, rested against his chest, and he pulled it out, twisting it between his fingers. If this didn’t work, if the woman turned him down, he would have no choice but to tell his parents the truth.

  “You wanted to meet me?” A voice, deeper than the one he’d heard during the play but with the same strong pitch, brought his feet to a halt. He turned and there she was, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. “What can I do for you, Mister…?”

  “Chase Valentine,” he said and held out his hand to her.

  She eyed him curiously but sat down on the edge of the stage so her legs dangled off and took his hand. He was almost taller than her like that, and he realized how short she must be. “Grace Summers. Theodore said you wanted to talk?”

  “Grace, very fitting name,” he said roughly, staring. From the upper view of the box, he thought she was pretty, but being this close to her caused his heart to pound. His hands wanted to reach out and brush the auburn curls from her face. He shook his head to clear the sudden need to lean forward and kiss this woman.

  “For some,” she muttered. “So, did you want to talk to me about something?”

  “Right, yes,” he said and cleared his throat. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

  Immediately, she pushed to her feet, barking a laugh. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m an actress, not a prostitute, man.”

  “What? No,” he said quickly. “No, that’s not what I’m asking.”

  She stopped but didn’t turn around. “And what are you trying to say? Do I need to call security in here to take you out? Are you drunk?”

  Chase gritted his teeth and hung his head. “No, I’m not. What I meant to say was I would like to hire you—for your acting skills—for a weekend gig,” he explained quickly, hoping she’d turn around. This was his only shot to survive the weekend with his parents. He needed her to say yes.

  Grace turned slowly, her arms crossed over her chest, and the light hit the piercing in her nose. “Weekend gig? Why do I get the feeling it’s not a play you’re asking me to be in?”

  “Because it’s not,” he said, continuing quickly when she took another step backwards. “But it pays well, and I swear it’s nothing illegal or dangerous.”

  She squinted at him, tilting her head, and those brown eyes of hers pulled him into their depths as she slowly moved closer to the edge of the stage. “What exactly are you asking me to do if you don’t want me to be in a play?”

  “I need you to pretend to be my fiancée this weekend,” he told her, leaning against the stage and trying to act like it wouldn’t matter if she said yes or no. While she thought it over, it gave him a chance to study her face, the gentle slope of her cheeks and the way her brows knitted together while she chewed on her bottom lip. His eyes wandered and he caught the ends of tattoos on both arms disappearing under her shirt. The urge to see what they were almost drove him to jump onto that stage, but he forced his feet to stay on the floor. She was already on edge, watching him with guarded eyes. No reason to scare her off any faster.

  “What kind of man hires someone to be his fake fiancée?” she finally asked.

  “A man who’s lied to his parents for the last year about being engaged,” he told her honestly. “Listen, if you want the job, I’m willing to talk to you about all the details tomorrow at my office. Otherwise, just say so, and I’ll be on my way.”

  He pushed off the stage and turned his back to her until her quick steps and thud made him glance back. She’d hopped off the stage. Grace barely reached his shoulders as she stood in front of him. Her head leaned back as she looked up at him.

  “And where are you going to find another actress so quickly?” she challenged, those brown eyes shimmering with determination in the bright theater lights.

  He shrugged as he picked out the swirling colors focused on him. There was more than just brown… specks of amber and even a tinge of green gathered around her pupils. Chase frowned, the lump in his throat making it hard to get the words out. “I’m sure I can find someone.”

  “How much are you paying?”

  He hadn’t even thought of that. Chase pulled a number from the air and ran with it. “Twenty thousand,” he told her. “All expenses paid, of course. I’ll need you to dress for the part, as well.”

  Grace’s eyes widened, but not with greed. Her whole body stiffened, and she chewed on her damn lip again. Chase bit back a groan as well as the want swelling in his chest to kiss her until she was dizzy. What the hell was wrong with him? He was here to hire her for a job, nothing more.

  “Where’s your office?” she asked.

  “Does that mean you’re agreeing to do it?”

  “No, it means I’ll come and talk to you about it. But,” she added wh
en he frowned, “it’s a tentative yes. Just want to make sure I know what the hell I’m getting myself into.”

  He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Meet me here in the morning, say nine? We’ll go over everything, and I’ll have an official contract drawn up.”

  She took it and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. “Right. Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” she said as she shifted on her feet.

  “Yes, tomorrow morning,” he repeated, wanting to ask her out for a drink. Wanting to come up with any excuse to spend more time with her. His eyes wandered down her lithe body, remembering all those damn yoga poses she’d done during the play, and mentally cursing, he took a large step backwards. “You did very well tonight, by the way,” he added, waved, and hurried out of the theater before he did something he’d regret.

  She called her thanks after him, but Chase didn’t stop walking. Grace Summers might be one hell of an actress, but he couldn’t explain what the hell she did to him. Would he survive a weekend with this woman?

  “It’s all an act,” he told himself firmly as he exited the theater. “All just a damn act.”

  2

  Frowning as she stared at the business card in her hand, Grace meandered backstage to gather the rest of her things and head home with Jimmy, her co-star and roommate.

  “What’s with the face, hon?” he asked, sitting at his dressing table as she passed by.

  “I just had the weirdest conversation,” she muttered. “I’m not sure what to think of it.”

  Jimmy brushed his long black hair from his face and braided it behind him. “Care to share with the class or do you want me to play psychic?” he teased with pursed lips. “Graceland, I’m talking to you.”

  She glared at him and shoved the card back in her pocket. “I hate that name.”