Fake It Real: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Zahra Girard

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Fake It Real

  A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

  By

  Zahra Girard

  Copyright © 2017 by Zahra Girard

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Julian

  I always knew at some point I’d be involved in that one phone call they give you before they toss you in prison. It just seemed inevitable. You don’t drink like I do, fuck like I do, live like I do, without making a few enemies. For me, business is the kind of game you’ve got to play dirty or not even bother playing at all.

  And I’m one of the best when it comes to getting dirty.

  But when that phone call finally happens, I’m on the other end of the line.

  Hell, I’m on the other end of the planet.

  Alaska. I’m in some small town in the middle of the frozen wasteland where no person in their right mind should ever live. The kind of place you hurry to pass through on your way to somewhere — anywhere — better.

  This place is so small that more than half the people in this town are on our payroll, and we’re outnumbered two-to-one by the neighborhood polar bears.

  When I first got here, our head of security for this project reminded me that I should always bring a gun with me when I go outside to use the hole-in-the-ground they call a toilet. Otherwise I would probably end up a meal for those very same polar bears.

  Normally, the prospect of a bear attack while my pants are around my ankles would be enough to make me leave, but this place happens to sit right on top of some huge energy reserves.

  That’s why I’m here. The only reason I’m here.

  I need to make sure this development project for my family’s company, Stone Capital, goes off without a hitch. My older brother’s the CEO, now that our father’s passed on, and, when I’m not on the other side of the planet, he and I are inseparable.

  That’s how it’s always been. We look out for each other, and when we were growing up and our parents were being the special kind of underhanded hard-asses that only they could pull off, he did what he could to shelter me. Just as we did the same for our younger brother, Mike.

  It’s the only way to survive in our family.

  I’m deep under the hood of one of the modified jeeps our team uses to get around up here and do surveys when my phone rings. This kind of work is the only break I get from the day-to-day shit like browbeating union leaders and bribing whoever the hell I have to bribe to get work done. I like this kind of manual work. It helps me keep my head straight.

  I stand up, cursing as I smack my head on the hood. I look at my phone for a second in surprise. I didn’t think I even had a signal out here.

  It’s my older brother. Alex.

  “What’s up, man? Please tell me you’re calling to let me know I can get the hell out of this place and that you’re sending some other unlucky bastard to take over.”

  “Julian, you there?” he says, his voice staticky, fading in and out.

  “Yes, I’m here. The signal’s just shit. As is everything else up here.”

  “I really don’t know how to say this, man, so I’m just going to come out and say it: I’m stepping down as CEO and I’m going to be going to jail for a while.”

  I pull my phone away from my ear and look at it. Am I hearing this right?

  “Are you fucking with me right now? You realize I’m not in the mood. This morning, it was so cold my piss froze mid-stream. Literally. It was pretty cool, and I took a few pictures, but, still. Although I have to admit, smashing it was kinda fun, too.”

  “No, man. This isn’t a joke.”

  “Then why the fuck are you going to jail?”

  I don’t even feel the cold around me, I’m so damn angry.

  “Look, I can’t talk long, they’re already waving at me to wrap this up. The short of it is, the lawyers and accountants going through dad’s estate found some irregularities with my name on it. The kind of irregularities that qualify as criminal. Whoever set me up for this did a pretty good job. I was lucky to get any sort of plea deal, so I took it. I didn’t want you and Mike, or the company, to have to deal with a trial.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. Out of everyone in my family, my older brother’s so squeaky clean he’s practically a boy scout. The most criminal thing he’s done was being late to return a library book.

  “Who’s in charge then?” I manage to say, despite the fact that I feel like I just took a gut shot.

  He sighs. “That’s up in the air. There’s a few candidates. I’ll be meeting with my lawyer later in the week to lay out a plan for the board to guide them through this transition. But you know mom probably will make a pla
y and, from what I’ve heard, she could probably get at least half the board on her side.”

  Of course she will. That woman’s a snake in the grass. She’s been waiting for this opportunity her whole damn life.

  “Fuck if I’ll let that happen,” I growl, suppressing the urge to throw my phone to the concrete floor. “I’ll take the job myself before I let that bitch steal the company from you.”

  “I hope you’re kidding. You don’t want to be CEO.”

  “Maybe not. But I sure as shit don’t want to see her profit from you getting fucked over..”

  I’m dead serious, but even so, Alex reacts like I’m joking.

  “When’s the last time you attended a full board meeting, Julian?” he says. “Was it before or after that tabloid story about your little ‘altercation’ in that strip club in Bangkok?”

  I pause for a second, thinking. “Before.”

  “You’re on the board because you’re a Stone, and you’re good at what you do, but there’s no way the board is going to take you as CEO. They can’t appoint someone with your reputation, right after their previous CEO gets put away for white collar crimes.”

  He’s right, but there’s no way in hell I’ll admit to it. And there’s no way I’m going to let something like the truth stop me. It hasn’t before.

  “You might be right, Alex, but it’s been a while since you and I’ve met. I need you to get the word out through your lawyer that I’ve changed. Strip clubs, boozing, partying, that’s all in my past.”

  Fuck, it hurts just saying that. Like I’m betraying my principles.

  But then again, this is my brother. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to settle the score for him. He’s the best man I know and he’s been there for me my entire life.

  I owe him.

  Alex laughs, loud and hard, and it’s a while before he’s able to catch his breath and talk again. “And just why is anyone supposed to believe that?”

  I steel myself and force out a lie to the man I trust more than anyone else. “Because I’m engaged.”

  Silence.

  “You’re serious?”

  “I am. Tell the board that I’m coming down and I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m serious about this. When I get to Los Angeles, they’ll see an entirely different Julian Stone. And their next CEO.”

  “Well, congratulations. I mean it. I’ll let them know. I just hope you know what you’re in for, brother.”

  “I am. And thank you, Alex.”

  He hangs up and I stare into the engine compartment of the jeep I’m working on. The gears in my head are spinning as I sort out my next steps.

  Where the hell am I going to find a wife?

  Chapter One

  Melody

  “Just one more patient for today, Mel,” Alice says to me, clipboard in one hand, pen in the other. “Gastric distress.”

  She makes a face.

  I do, too.

  We both know what those words likely mean — that we’re less likely to be facing a tummy rumble than we are to be up against Old Faithful.

  Last I checked, this hour’s appointment slot was open, which means whoever is coming in is suffering more from a gastric emergency than simple distress. Why deal with running in for medical help when you can just pop a pill or wait it out?

  It’s nearly the end of the day, just an hour left before we shut the doors on our little clinic and flip the small sign on the door from saying ‘open’ to ‘closed’. Not that it matters much either way. You have to have regulars for it to mean something.

  “Any more details on the patient?” I say, as I start washing up and getting ready some of the wet gear we keep around for the messier cases, like waterproof scrubs and thicker gloves. “Attitude, physical condition, any of that?”

  She looks down at the clipboard. “Elderly, obese, male, ornery. Yes, they did say ‘ornery’. I made a point to write that down because only a certain type ever fit into the ‘ornery’ category. Plus, it’s kind of a fun word. Otherwise, sorry, they weren’t that specific when they called in. They just mentioned it was an emergency and could be kind of messy.”

  I roll my eyes. This isn’t how I pictured my life turning out when I moved to this small town on the Oregon coast. It was supposed to be a fresh start after a series of disasters that I’d rather forget — a new opportunity, a new chance at making things happen for myself.

  This was supposed to be something I could call my own and look on with pride. Not, well, spending the day hovering around an empty office and capping it off with a gastric emergency.

  Still, it’s better than where I was before. Even thinking about him makes me shudder, and it’s been almost a year since I left that nightmare of an ex behind.

  “Don’t worry about it — we’ll find out the rest when they get here. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “True.”

  I finish putting on my scrubs and look over at Alice. We’ve been spending so much time alone together, because she reads my expression before I even speak. I hate that what I’m about to ask her has become so routine that she’s learned ‘the look’ that goes with me asking her.

  “Yes,” she says. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it.”

  “You’re sure? I hate to ask. It’s just, you know —”

  “I get it. No worries, Mel,” she says, trying to sound reassuring. “Besides, I could use the extra time off. My friend Beth is moving, so I’ll go give her a hand. I’ll be in around noon, ok?”

  I also hate that she’s always coming up with excuses and reasons to justify me cutting her hours. She’s too good to work here.

  I pop off one of my gloves and fish around in my pockets, even though it means I’ll have to wash up again, and pull out a couple crinkled one dollar bills and hand them over. “Treat yourself to some coffee tomorrow, ok? And, Al, could you come in around one, instead? I think our first appointments at 1:30.”

  She sighs and makes no move to take the money from me. “You know I won’t take that. But I will get us some coffee. You want the usual?”

  I wave the cash at her again. “Please, take it. It’ll make me feel better. And yes — a double — but can you make sure it’s Brianna that makes it? Janet never adds enough caramel syrup to my latte.”

  She looks at it, unsure. “Mel, I’d feel better if I didn’t take it.”

  The cash goes back into my pocket without any more protest. Business has been so bad lately that I won’t fight her too hard. Besides, the money will probably just wind up going to her paycheck anyways. I haven’t had a paycheck of my own in weeks.

  This isn’t what I envisioned for myself when I came to Rockaway Bay. An empty office, a patient roster that barely fills a few lines in a notebook bought from a dollar store, and a dwindling bank account.

  But it’s mine. I built it, and even though it’s failing right now, I can still take pride in the fact that I did this. It’s an accomplishment.

  I had no big expectations when I came to Rockaway Bay, leaving behind an abusive ex. The only thing I wanted was to find a quiet, anonymous place where I could experience some peace, where I could find myself and live without David Tyson — my ex — trying to control me.

  The fact that I built a business? The fact that I rebuilt my life — as small as it is — is something that fills my heart to bursting.

  There’s a rap at the door and commotion turns Al and me from our reverie to the work at hand. The two of us head to the front room, smiles on our faces and both of us projecting an air of calm and authority. It’s important, when dealing with patients who might be agitated or upset, to demonstrate that you’re calm and in charge. Even if you have to fake it.

  We spot, and smell, our patient right away.

  Al heads to the older man accompanying our patient, starting in on the questions that’ll help us diagnose what’s wrong.

  “When did the issue first present itself?” she says.

  The older man crinkles his wrinkly brow, making i
t look like the Grand Canyon is carved into his forehead.

  “This morning’s been the worst of it. Mighta started last night — he was a bit gassy after dinner — but this morning, woo-wee, I gave him something to eat and lord above, I ain’t seen a gusher like that since I was on the fire department and some daggum teenagers broke open a hydrant.”

  My stomach hitches a bit listening to the old man while I check our patient over. Alice gags too, though she manages to cover it pretty well by faking a cough.

  His pulse is steady, though a bit elevated, temperature feels a little high, but nothing too abnormal, nothing dangerous.

  “You’re doing very well,” I whisper while I place my stethoscope on his abdomen. “Just hold still while I take a little listen.”

  I frown.

  It feels like I’m listening to an earthquake in slow-motion.

  Rumble rumble rumble.

  Al sees the look on my face and she stops questioning the old man. “You want my help getting him to the observation room?”

  I nod. “Yes. Let’s go to the back one. It’s got a floor drain. And we should hurry. It sounds like things are pretty active in there.”

  I can’t hide the urgency in my voice and the patient picks up on it, giving me this fix me now look and I just shake my head and give them a reassuring pat on the head while Al comes over to help me.

  Together, we get him up and into the back observation room, while the old man follows behind us, still talking about fire hydrants and teenagers and babbling in the way that only old people seem able to do.

  The patient hardly struggles when we get him on the table and I take a second listen at their abdomen. It sounds like a witches cauldron at full toil-and-trouble boil.

  He whines a little and I hear a big bubble of something pop inside.

  “Al, I need you to fetch me an IV, we have to keep the patient from getting dehydrated” I say. “And, then I need you to get a mop and bucket.”

  She hustles away to get everything I’ve asked for and then I turn to the old man.

  “What’s your name, sir?” I say.