I’m excited just thinking about getting dressed for the event.
First, the luncheon. Ricardo is a new client and he told me he likes redheads, so I’m wearing my long auburn wig. I have green contact lenses that look great with the hair color, and I wear a knee-length emerald-green sheath dress with a black half jacket over it and black sling-back pumps. It says corporate but playful.
I do my makeup with a peachy palette, including lip gloss and rouge. I use a smoky gray liner around my eyes sparingly. I color my brows with a pencil as close to the wig color as possible and believe it or not, something that small makes a huge difference in my appearance. I always astonish myself as I watch Marley disappear under the disguise of whatever character I’m playing.
It’s the best part of the job. When I’m done, I stride to the full-length mirror to have a peek.
Yes, I think, spinning a 360. It will work.
5
Fletcher Creed
“Married?” he shouts into my ear. “Are you crazy, man?”
Not crazy, just determined. Besides, it’s because of his mangling the sale that I’m forced to consider taking this measure. “Hammer, I have to go. We’ll talk soon.”
I disconnect the call just as Kelly strolls into the office as if she is on a catwalk. Dressed in a short red dress and nude sandals, her legs seem to go on forever. At one time I was infatuated with the tall brunette, but lately she’s been wearing on my nerves. Friends with benefits used to be welcome but I think it may be time to part ways.
“Hey, handsome,” she purrs. “Want to do lunch?”
I swivel my chair to face her when she comes around the desk but she doesn’t stop there. She climbs onto the chair, kneeling on the sides while straddling my legs. It’s awkward with a woman so tall but she manages it. Her pussy is inches away from my dick, which is starting to take notice regardless of what my mind tells it. “Phone broken?” I ask her.
A husky laugh erupts from her throat. “No, smartass. I wanted to surprise you. Surprise.”
I squeeze her hips before I lift her off me. “It’s a nice surprise, Kelly, but I can’t do it. I’m swamped.” Even while I’m lying to her, I don’t know why I am. I should go to lunch with her—I have nothing else to do. But for some reason, she’s rubbing me the wrong way. And I like to be rubbed the right way.
“That hard bulge in your pants is saying otherwise.”
When she sees I’m not playing, she pouts, and I don’t find it at all adorable. “Fine. Are you taking me to the fundraiser? I’m still waiting on my invite.”
“You didn’t get an invitation?”
“I did… but not one from you asking me to accompany you.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I actually was hoping my mother would somehow neglect to invite Kelly. Our relationship—if you can even call it that—has run its course. The only trouble is that she seems incapable of recognizing my complete lack of interest in her.
“Sorry, it’s important that I go alone since I have co-hosting responsibilities. Feel free to bring someone with you.”
That comment earns me a filthy look, and then she arranges her face into a forced smile that I’m definitely not buying. “I think I will.” She adjusts her clothing. Then she turns and says over her shoulder, “Enjoy the rest of your day, Fletcher.”
I watch with a sense of relief as she flounces out of my office. Not even a minute later, Denise, one of the executive admins, knocks lightly on the door left open by Kelly’s abrupt departure. “Mr. Creed, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to remind you of that entrepreneur’s luncheon you have today.”
“Oh, right.” I frown as I look at my phone. “I don’t know why it’s not marked on my calendar. Time again?”
“It starts at one. You’re slated to speak at 1:45.”
I check the time. A quarter to twelve. I can make it in plenty of time since it’s in walking distance. “Thanks for the reminder, or I would’ve missed it.”
I have some research to get done if I’m to be prepared for my early morning meeting tomorrow, so I turn my attention to that task, but the words on the screen start swimming in front of me. I just can’t fucking concentrate. Like a magnet to its pole, my thoughts keep returning to Taryn Richmond, wondering who she is and what that little show at the meeting was all about. It’s definitely a mystery, one I can’t seem to resist a chance to solve.
How can I find her if that’s not her real name? The only way is to ask Todd Richmond outright. He’d have to come clean about her not being his wife. I don’t think that’s the best way forward. Instead, I’ll have him shadowed, hoping if they’re not married they’re at least dating and he’ll lead me to her.
I’ll find her that way. I have to.
Using my hands as leverage, I shove off away from my glass desk, the momentum rolling my chair and I spin out and get up. Once on my feet, I walk over to the wall of windows and peer out at the city. Today is overcast, and a gray pall hangs over the skyscrapers of downtown, cloaking them in a gauze of foggy vapor. Down below cars crawl like insects in a big hurry, and people scurry in every direction trying to get out of the rain. Sometimes living in a big city reminds me of rats caught in a maze—everyone dashing here and there but never getting anywhere, never finding the escape route.
My thoughts have been sinking into this kind of hole lately. Things keep going wrong, and I don’t know why. Is karma coming to get me for something evil I did? Maybe for the incident I endured as a child and the actions I took to escape it. I just don’t know.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, scanning the city laid out below me, but as I finally step away, I realize I have less than ten minutes to get to the luncheon. Rushing around the corner while doing battle with my umbrella in the wind, I decide to go straight home afterward, finish the details for the fundraiser from home, have an early dinner, then go to bed. A good night’s rest will give me the fresh perspective needed to start to turn things around.
I’m seated at the dais at the entrepreneur’s lunch awaiting my turn to speak. They’ve shifted my time to 1:15 and I’d just walked in five minutes before. I figure I can sneak out of here not long afterward—I hope anyway. These types of events are tedious but still necessary for me to attend. It wouldn’t look good to blow them off though I try to keep the invites I accept to a bare minimum.
When it’s time for me to speak, I stand at the lectern and let my gaze pan out over the crowd as I begin. Everything goes well—they laugh on cue, they all seem interested, and I get healthy applause when I conclude. I resume my seat, hoping I could slip out during the next speech. About two minutes into it, a couple who arrived late is being seated. A quick glance at them and something about the woman instantly catches my attention.
On one hand, she looks somehow familiar… but on the other, I’m fairly certain I don’t know her. I wrangle my attention back onto the speaker, but my eyes keep migrating back to her. What is it about her other than her exceptional good looks? Then she uses one elegant finger to sweep hair out of her face, and synapses fire in my brain. I’ve seen that gesture before.
That’s when I realize it’s her. It almost shakes my composure.
Is it her? She looks completely different… and yet the same. Her eyes are the same. The man currently speaking tells a joke. Everyone laughs on cue. I shift my gaze to her quickly. There’s that smile, the one where the left side of her lips curls up slightly higher than the right and dimples emerge.
Everything else is different, including the man whose arm she’s clinging to.
Well, well, well, this entrepreneur’s lunch just turned out to be a lot more interesting than I’d anticipated. At first, I thought it was just my feverish imagination since I’ve been unable to shake her from my mind since watching her ruin my carefully laid plans.
But in my gut, I know it’s her. Something about her almond-shaped eyes. And the way she squares her shoulders, the way she holds her head. And that infectious smile.
/> Oh, it’s her, all right.
I check the guest list and seating arrangement. Almost too easy. And surprise—her name is not listed as Taryn Richmond. Not even close. The woman listed in her seat is Gale Damone.
So now to put the pieces together. Right before I leave the luncheon, I take out my phone.
“Nathan, get someone to the Doubletree Magnificent Mile, 300 Ohio. ASAP. I need someone followed.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll text you when he gets there.”
“Good.” I disconnect, my thoughts racing a mile a minute.
Why is the same woman who is pretending to be the wife of one man also assuming the role of girlfriend to another? Could she be doing one or both men a favor? It seems odd. And if that was the case, why did she attempt to disguise herself each time? For that matter, I have no idea what the woman truly looks like.
It is something to ponder for another time since I have the fundraiser to prepare for and a whole array of other things to see to as well. But what I really want to do more than anything is to follow her. Myself. Instead, I’ll pay someone else to do it.
And I will run her to ground. Just that thought makes my dick twitch with anticipation.
Game on, sweetheart. You’re going down—in more ways than one if I have my way.
And I will.
6
Marley Jacobs
The fundraiser is spectacular.
Probably to Tara’s everlasting regret, I haven’t yet met a rich handsome man who wants to sweep me off my feet. The venue is large and very crowded, and the only people we interact with most of the evening are the people at our table. I do catch a glimpse of Caroline Creed mingling, and of course I see her when she is at the podium speaking about the charity.
I’ve never seen so many rich, beautiful people in one huge room, milling about, and the auction is a hoot. All of them keep outbidding one another, not because they are generous but because it is a roomful of people who are used to winning. There are no gracious losers here.
Rafe wants to leave early. At the end of the auction, he tells me we’re leaving even though there is still more dancing along with dessert liqueurs to come. To be honest, I’m happy to call it a night. My arches are aching from my high heels, and I feel a headache coming on. Plus, I can’t exactly say no to him.
“Can my driver give you a ride home?”
Oh, one of my golden rules? I make it a habit to avoid getting in clients’ cars. Rafe knows that. I will admit that sometimes it is truly unavoidable, but most times it’s more than easy to arrange for my own transportation. It’s just safer that way. “Thanks, but I already called for a car.”
“Okay, I’ll wait with you.”
We walk to the sidewalk where others are waiting for the valets to bring up their vehicles. Rafe doesn’t hand his ticket to the young guy with the peach-fuzz mustache who approaches us. “I’m not ready yet,” he says.
He leads me a small distance away from the commotion. “So tell me, what was your most interesting assignment to date? And don’t lie and tell me this one because I’ll know you’re fibbing.”
I chuckle lightly. “This one was fun—I wouldn’t have to lie. But I guess the most unusual one—or maybe the one with the most difficult client—was the time I was hired by this woman who was a high-powered real estate agent.”
“Did you play her wife or girlfriend?”
He sure is interested. “Neither. She needed me to play a rival home buyer to jack up the selling price of the luxury condo she was trying to sell. She told me she used to use her assistant, but the woman was horrible at it, so she decided she needed a professional liar.”
Rafe tosses his head back, laughing. “I suppose a backhanded compliment is better than none at all.”
Now I’m laughing too. “I suppose.”
“So she’s unethical too. Dirty trickster.”
“Yeah, I didn’t like that job.”
“Did she sell it? The condo?”
I wink at him. “You betcha.”
“I truly appreciate your coming through on such short notice for me. I’ll probably be needing your services again in the near future. Would that be all right?”
“Absolutely.” I sense that he has more to say so I stay quiet.
“I’m wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m wondering if it might be beneficial to both of us if I put you on retainer.”
I have no clue what he means. “Retainer?”
“What I mean is if I plan to hire you to be my companion at multiple events, it wouldn’t really do to have you show up in similar circles as someone else’s wife or girlfriend. I’m considering paying you on a regular basis to be exclusive to me.” He looks at me in the reflected glow of the streetlamp, but I can’t see his eyes all that well in the ambient light. “Is that something you would consider?”
At first, I feel really taken aback by his proposition. It never once occurred to me that a client would ask such a thing of me since my services don’t come cheap and most use me for one-off emergencies. I lick my lips, choosing my words carefully. “I would be receptive to thinking about it, Rafe. If you could lay out in detail what you have in mind, it would help me make a decision.”
He gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “That’s a good idea. I’ll have my assistant draw up the contract, and you can look it over. If it meets with your approval then you can sign it. If not, we’ll proceed from there.”
I release the breath I’m not even aware I’m holding. “That sounds… good. Oh, here’s my car. Thanks for waiting with me.”
He nods and smiles. “Thank you for coming through for me.”
On the ride home, I think about Rafe’s proposal. I’m not sure if I’m happy or troubled by it. On one hand I’d have a steady income and little responsibility. It’d be a dream job.
On the other, Rafe would have a hell of a lot of power over me, being my only client. Also, I wouldn’t get the variety of assignments I get now, which helps keep things lively. And… I guess a part of me—a very tiny part—held some hope that in doing this kind of work, I might meet the proverbial Mr. Right and end up with a bigger prize than a hefty paycheck.
At the fundraiser, I saw a lot of men I would be interested in dating. A few even seemed to be interested back. Of course, I couldn’t do anything about it because I was with Rafe. But if I’d been alone? Pay dirt.
Good-looking men—in some cases, indecently handsome and all of them masters of the universe. There was one guy in particular who was so devastatingly gorgeous that I had to look away. Looking at him was like staring at the sun—seductive but deadly. A man like that could have any woman—or man—that he wants and a different one every day of the week.
But I could aspire for a lesser one for myself, now can’t I?
What I need to do is finagle an invite to an event like the fundraiser and attend alone or with Tara or Cilla. Now, that would be fun. Who knows? I might meet someone.
It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a man touch me. I lie in bed and imagine all sorts of erotic scenarios.
Courtesy of the fundraiser, I can now put a very handsome face to the imaginary lover with the washboard abs and chiseled jawline. I take out my battery-operated boyfriend and pretend it’s the lips and tongue of Mr. Gorgeous from the event teasing my clit relentlessly. The orgasm I give myself is so much more intense than usual.
It almost rocks my world. Imagine what the real thing could do.
7
Fletcher Creed
Coming into the office this morning was not easy. I got home from the fundraiser after one a.m. and barely managed five hours of sleep. The reason I couldn’t sleep was her. Again. This was three times in as many weeks. What the hell was going on? Did she have some kind of campaign against me? I’m beginning to think that one of my enemies hired her to sabotage me.
When I spotted her in yet another getup, I thought it was my paranoia running away with me. How could the s
ame woman keep popping up everywhere I go? She didn’t seem to be interested in me per se, which was good because it gave me ample time to observe her, albeit from a distance, and call Cru for backup.
He took photos and sent them into the office to run them through some facial recognition software. When that didn’t get us anywhere, we sent a man over to lean on Todd Richmond since dogging him for the past week yielded no results. If that didn’t work, we planned to go to the next man she was seen with at the luncheon. But as it turned out, old Todd spilled his guts, and now I had a text message on my phone with her name and contact number.
Marley Jacobs.
According to Mr. Richmond who was very forthcoming given the right incentives, Ms. Jacobs was a professional impersonator, a career path I found intriguing not just for the unusualness of it but also because it just so happened I was in the market for someone just like that.
What is that called again? Serendipity.
While I was at it, I couldn’t resist asking Richmond why the sale went south.
“I was having second thoughts,” he’d said. “I told Marley I’d probably ask her—as my wife—for her opinion. I had already decided that whatever advice she gave me then and there would be what I would do. Sounds stupid, I know, but it’s true.”
It was just dumb enough to be true. The guy didn’t have the balls needed to make sound business decisions. I doubted he’d amount to much, but of course, I didn’t say that.
Faker: A Fake Relationship Romance Page 4
