Billionaire's Fake Fiancé (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #10)

by Claire Adams

  “I gotta go,” she said. “Talk soon, chick!”

  After she’d disconnected, I stood staring at the phone for a few minutes, thinking about what she’d said about calling Blake. I pulled up his number and started at it before powering down the phone and taking my coffee to the bathroom so I could shower and get ready for my first day back.

  There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and everything looked clean and fresh as I drove into the high school parking lot. I was early, but I wanted to get a chance to prepare my classroom for the new term without the interruption of my colleagues.

  “Emily! Happy new year! How was your break?” Betty called, as I walked into the teacher’s lounge to fill my coffee mug.

  “Hey, Betty,” I said, smiling back. “It was okay. How was yours?”

  “I hear about the fire,” she said, dropping her voice as she moved alongside of me at the counter. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I nodded. “I’m living with a friend until I can find a new place.”

  “Do you need anything?” she asked. I knew she was interested in how I was doing, but I also knew her well enough to know she was angling for more information than I was willing to share. “Do you have anyone helping you out?”

  “It’s all good,” I repeated with a friendly smile. “I had good insurance coverage, so I’ll be able to replace everything.”

  “It’s too bad you don’t have a boyfriend who could help you out,” she said, leaving the unasked question hanging between us.

  “Yeah, well, I do all right on my own,” I shrugged. Again, I thought about what KO had said and wondered if I should call Blake.

  “One of these days one of these town boys is going to scoop you up and make an honest woman of you!” Betty said, nudging me as she grinned.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, giving her a weak smile. “One can only hope, right?”

  I poured myself some coffee and headed back to my classroom. I could feel a dull ache starting behind my eyes, and I hoped that the coffee would mute it before the students filed in for classes.

  Later that afternoon, after History class, Nina hung back as her classmates moved out into the hallway.

  “Ms. Fowler?” she said, as she approached my desk. “I just wanted to tell you that I don’t know what happened between you and my dad, but I’m pretty sure it’s his fault.”

  “Oh, Nina, it’s no one’s fault,” I said, moving around to where she stood. She looked small, and she was holding a stack of books that she set down on my desk.

  “Whatever, I just wanted you to know I miss having you around the house,” she said, as she picked up a book and handed it to me. “And I got these books from the library. Our trip to the museum made me want to learn more about the people who came to Waltham.”

  “Nina, that’s great!” I said, taking the book she offered and flipping it open. It was the story of the first women workers in the BNC factories. “This is a great book! You’ll get a lot out of it, and it’ll help with the final exam essay question, too.”

  “It’s interesting,” she said, smiling. “Thank you for showing me the museum and stuff.”

  “Anytime,” I smiled back. “If you want to talk about this, or any of the other books, feel free to come see me, okay?”

  Nina nodded, and then grabbed me and hugged me tightly before she gathered up her books and followed her friends. Again, I thought about calling Blake and trying to talk to him, but before I could make up my mind, the bell rang, and the next class of students streamed in, ready for their lesson.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Blake

  On Tuesday morning, I pulled up in front of the station and found Tony bent down examining the driver’s side door of his car. I laid on the horn to let him know I was waiting to park, but he just flipped me the bird and bent lower. I backed into a spot on the other side of the lot and got out.

  “What the fuck, man?” I shouted, as I walked toward him. “Seriously, is your car such a precious antique that you now have to prevent people from parking next to it?”

  “Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, B,” he grinned as he looked up at me. “Someone scratched the door, and I was just trying to figure out who it was.”

  “How in the hell would you know that?”

  “Paint chips, my friend,” he said, as he ran a finger over the scratch. “I’ll gather the paint chips and take them to the lab.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said. “You can barely see the scratch!”

  “It’s all about order and accountability, my friend,” he said, as he stood up. “If you don’t hold people accountable for their actions, there is no order. Anarchy is not pretty.”

  “Anarchy is the result of a scratch in your paint job?” I laughed. “Now I know you’re delusional.”

  “Speaking of delusional, how’s the teacher?” Tony asked, as he slapped me on the back. “You two getting down and bumping uglies on a regular basis now?”

  “Haven’t heard from her lately,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Must be busy with the start of the new term and all.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tony said, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me toward him. “You two were all goo-goo eyed for each other at the New Year’s Eve party, and now you’re telling me you haven’t heard from her in a few days and it’s no big deal?”

  “Yeah, why?” I shrugged.

  “You’re so full of shit,” he scoffed, as he shoved me away. I caught myself and shot him a warning look that he chose to ignore. “What happened? Remy screw it up for you? Nina get mad?”

  “No, just lay off, will you?” I said, giving him a warning look.

  “B, something happened,” he pushed. “What was it?”

  “Fine, I met her parents, and it didn’t go well at all,” I said, skirting the incident as best I could.

  “Her daddy didn’t like you?” Tony pushed.

  “No, he didn’t like me, and I didn’t like him, and Emily kicked us both out,” I spat. “There, are you happy now that you know the whole story?”

  “Whoa, she kicked you and her father out?”

  “Her mother, too,” I added wryly. “It was a mess, and I haven’t talked to her since.”

  “Well, maybe it’s for the best,” Tony offered, as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You know, maybe you avoided another shitty relationship and another messed up drama. Silver lining!”

  “You sure changed your tune fast there, buddy,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “One minute you're all for it, and the next you’re telling me I’m a lucky guy. Which is it?”

  “Dunno, ask me again when the two of you patch things up,” Tony grinned, as we entered the station and found the guys gathered around the breakfast table as Cal dished up sausage and eggs. I quickly stored my gear and pulled up a seat at the table. As soon as he’d finished buttering the toast, Cal took a seat next to me and filled his plate.

  “Good eggs, man,” Tony said appreciatively, as the rest of the guys grunted in agreement.

  “Hey, Blake, was that Emily Fowler you brought to the party last weekend?” Cal asked, as he poured hot sauce on his eggs.

  “Yeah, why? You know her?” I mumbled with a full mouth.

  “No, but I know who her dad is,” he said, as he took a piece of toast and broke it in half.

  “Oh yeah, who?”

  “Her dad is William Fowler, the oil tycoon,” Cal said, as he spread jam on half of the toast and then began scooping up eggs with his fork and shoveling them into his mouth at an alarmingly rapid rate. “He’s got more money than God, or so I hear.”

  “Huh, is that so?” I said, as the wheels in my brain started spinning.

  “Oil tycoon?” Tony said, leaning across me to look at Cal. “A rich guy, you say?”

  “Yep,” Cal nodded. “Super rich. Didn’t she say anything about it?”

  “Nope, not a word,” I said, looking down at my plate as my appetite deserted me. I didn’t know what t
o do with this information, all I knew was that I missed Emily and I didn’t know how to get her back.

  “B, you need to get her back,” Tony whispered, as he nudged me with his elbow. “She’s an heiress or something!”

  “Shut the fuck up, Tony,” I muttered, as I picked up my plate and carried it to the sink where I dumped the remains of breakfast into the garbage and loaded the plate into the dishwasher.

  The alarm sounded before Tony could respond and as the voice came through the intercom, we rushed out to don our gear. I hauled myself up into the cab, giving Cal the once-over to make sure he was properly dressed. We pulled out of the station and headed toward the fire. I tried to get my brain focused on what I’d do once we got there, but I couldn’t get Emily out of my mind. I wanted to know why she hadn’t told me about her family and why she’d kicked us all out. Most of all, I wanted to know if she was missing me as much as I missed her.

  We pulled up to find the small house engulfed in flames, and two people, old enough to be my grandparents, shivering on the front sidewalk as they watched their home burn. The medics got them into the ambulance while the rest of us suited up to douse the flames.

  “Gaston, I want you, Tony, and the rookie to take the front door,” Chief said as I pulled my respiration over my head and grabbed the hose. “The house is a loss, so don’t be a hero.”

  I nodded as I looked around for Tony and Cal. Finding them, I motioned toward the front door and headed up the walk. I wondered what Emily was doing right at that moment. Was it time for Nina’s History class? I couldn’t remember. I felt someone tapping my shoulder.

  “B, what are you doing?” Tony shouted through his mask. “Where’s the ax?”

  I looked down and saw that I was holding only the hose. I shrugged and hollered, “Rookie! Go grab the ax out of the engine!”

  Tony shot me a look as Cal headed back to the truck to grab the ax. I pulled off a glove and put a hand on the front door to test for heat. The door was hot, and the knob was too hot to touch. Not a good sign. When Cal returned with the ax, I put a hand on one of the windows next to the door and said, “Bust the glass, but stay back!”

  Cal nodded and swung the ax. The sudden gush of air made the flames flare up.

  “GET BACK!” I yelled, as I shoved Tony and Cal off the porch and ducked. The sudden increase in heat caused the five small windows surrounding the door frame to explode, sending glass fragments flying. I waited a moment before lifting my head off of the porch. I called out, “You guys okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” Tony replied, as he pulled Cal up off the ground and climbed back onto the porch. “You okay, man?”

  I nodded and grabbed the ax from Cal’s hand, swinging it back before bringing it down through the door. The wood splintered but remained intact as I pulled it out and took another swing. This time the door cracked, and when I wiggled the blade, the cheap wood split in two. Tony kicked the door into the house and aimed the hose at the front entry.

  It took an hour to put out the fire, and when we were done, the homeowners thanked us profusely. It felt surreal to have people whose lives had just been consumed by flame thanking us. Chief made sure they had the information they needed to get resources while the Red Cross volunteers took inventory of what their immediate needs were.

  “Damn, no matter how many times it happens, it always amazes me how quickly those folks get here!” Tony said, looking at the volunteer handing the couple a booklet of resources and a small amount of cash while the other one made hotel reservations for them.

  “Are they always that quick?” Cal asked, watching with awe.

  “Yep, that’s the power of having thousands of local volunteers in every community,” I nodded. “They always have someone ready to go. It’s pretty amazing when you think about it.”

  As we loaded up the engine for the trip home, Tony came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.

  “You okay, B?” he asked quietly. “You don’t seem like you’re in the game today.”

  “I’m okay,” I replied. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Well, you’d better get some of it off your mind before Chief calls you to the carpet,” he said, adding, “Or someone gets hurt.”

  I stood by the side of the truck holding my helmet as Tony hauled himself back up into the cab, knowing I had to get Emily out of my head.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Emily

  The sun shone through the windows in my classroom on an unseasonably warm Friday afternoon in February as I handed back the graded tests to my sophomore History class. I praised them for their hard work and attempts at addressing the finer points of early 20th century immigration, and reminded the ones who hadn’t done as well that they still had several more chances to make up for less than stellar grades.

  “Nice work, Nina,” I said with a big smile, as I set her test down on her desk. She gave me a nervous look that quickly turned into a wide smile as she saw that the grade on the top of the page was an A.

  “Thank you, Ms. Fowler,” she said, smiling up at me.

  “Don’t thank me; you did the hard work!” I said, returning her smile. I handed out the rest of the papers and then went over the answers before the bell rang.

  Nina hung back as her friends headed to their next classes. Nervously, she approached my desk and said, “Ms. Fowler, I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay, what’s up?” I replied, looking up from the computer where I was pulling up a PowerPoint lecture for the next class.

  “Not now,” she said, looking toward the door and then back at me. “After school?”

  “Are you all right, Nina?” I asked, suddenly worried.

  “Yeah, fine,” she nodded. “I just need to talk to you in private.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait here for you after the last bell,” I agreed. She nodded, then turned and ran out the classroom door.

  I spent the last two periods of the school day worried that something was wrong with Nina. I had a sinking feeling that she was going to tell me she was pregnant and ask for help telling her parents. I sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case, but I steeled myself just in case it was. I didn’t want to be judgmental, but I wasn’t at liberty to offer her any advice on how to deal with the situation outside of advising her to tell her parents.

  I was packing up my things and had all but given up on Nina showing up when she entered the classroom. She looked subdued and less than happy. As much as I wanted to launch into a series of questions, I forced myself to hold back and wait for her to speak first.

  “Ms. Fowler, I feel like I have a problem,” she began nervously. “I want to be able to talk to my dad about it, but I don’t know how to start the conversation.”

  “Your dad’s a pretty straightforward person,” I said, hesitating a little. “It’s probably best just to approach him in a direct manner and say what’s on your mind. He loves you more than anything, and I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you about any problem you have.”

  “But see, that’s just it,” she said. “It’s not technically my problem.”

  “Oh, is that so?” I said, feeling my stomach begin to churn. Teenagers had a way of asking questions “for a friend” that made me wish I could free them from the shame and guilt they felt asking for themselves.

  “Yeah, it’s actually kind of his problem,” she continued, looking up at me before shifting her eyes back down to the floor and shuffling nervously. I waited, knowing that if I interrupted, she might get spooked and stop talking. When she looked back up at me, she said, “Look, my dad misses you. He’s old and stubborn, and he won’t talk about it with me, but I can tell that for the past month he’s been really lonely without you.”

  “Oh, I…well, it’s complicated,” I began, and then stopped. I had no idea what to say. I’d missed him terribly, but I had no idea how to approach the issue of my family with him. It felt too huge and overwhelming to have to explain the situation, and then to have to endure the humiliation of admit
ting that my family was the polar opposite of his, well, that felt like more than I could stand.

  “I know you might not want to hear this, maybe you moved on and have a new boyfriend,” she said quickly. “But I saw my parents together before the divorce, and my dad was never as happy with my mom as he was when I saw him with you. He was calmer. More patient. And since you’ve been gone, he’s just kind of shut down and gone back to being a grumpy old man. I know he misses you.”

  “I see,” I nodded, as I listened to her talk about the differences she’d seen over the past month.

  “I thought maybe if you could talk to him…” she trailed off before shrugging and saying, “Maybe you could talk some sense into him, you know? I mean, maybe he’d apologize for being a jerk, and you’d take him back.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at the idea that it was Blake’s fault we’d split up. If only Nina knew the truth, then she’d probably hate me, too.

  “Look, I know you’re sad about your dad and me, but I think he knows what’s best for him,” I explained. “I don’t think it’s right to blame him for everything, either. We are both adults.”

  “They why don’t you both act like it?” Nina blurted. “You guys are always telling us teenagers to be honest and talk things out. Why can’t you follow your own advice?”

  “Oh, Nina,” I said, chuckling as I rubbed my eyes. “Were it only that easy.”

  “It is,” she said, staring at me. “It is that easy. You just have to say what’s going on and then talk about how to fix it.”

  “Well, as much as I like the idea…” I began, as a knock on the classroom door interrupted the conversation. I looked up and called, “Come in!”

  The door opened and through it walked Blake. I looked at him and then back at Nina, who now had a satisfied grin on her face. I shot her a look before I smiled and said, “Hello, Mr. Gaston. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Hello, Ms. Fowler; it’s good to see you, too,” he replied, giving Nina the same confused look that I had given her moments before. “Nina told me you wanted to see me about her grades.”