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

by Claire Adams

“But, Becky, honey…”

  “No. No, Dad. Did you even notice that Johnny doesn’t drink? Both times you met him he refused to drink any alcohol, even though you made it all too easy for him. He doesn’t drink because he blames himself for what happened to Claire and thinks that the only way he can keep it from happening to someone else is to not be drunk.” I was shaking, I was so angry—so anxious. “You did absolutely the worst possible thing you could have done for absolutely no reason.”

  “Becky, I’m sorry, but you have to admit, there’s a reason.”

  “Not if you trust me to make good choices! If you actually trusted me and thought I had a brain in my head, you wouldn’t have hired some stupid private investigator that apparently can’t even get his facts straight.”

  “Becky, if you’re not going to calm down, then I’m going to have to hang up.”

  “Don’t bother.” I hit the end call icon and let my phone fall onto the desk. I sat back, trembling, anger still rushing through me, adrenaline making my heart race, and I started to cry. I cried for Johnny, who had to go through all of this again—alone. I cried for myself because if I couldn’t forgive my parents for bringing this onto him, how would he ever be able to forgive me? It was my fault, through my parents, that this was happening. If I hadn’t brought him to meet them, if I had stood firm and just kept him to myself, none of this mess would be on his doorstep again.

  After a while I was completely exhausted from crying and yelling at my father. I washed my face and decided that I was going to try Johnny again. Maybe he had only turned off his phone because he was in class. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe his phone had died. I dried my face off and tried his number again—it went straight to voicemail. I bit my bottom lip, trying to think of where on campus he could possibly be.

  Georgia offered to come with me to look for Johnny, but I told her I was fine; I didn’t want to have to tell her to go away if and when I found him and we needed to talk, and I doubted that Johnny would feel comfortable talking about the situation with someone he was only acquaintances with listening in. I went downstairs and tried to decide where I should go to first.

  I went to the library; I knew that Johnny wasn’t there very often, but I thought that if he was trying to avoid people, that would be as good a place as any to hole up. I walked across campus and as I passed by little groups of people, I heard a few of them whispering and pointing as soon as they saw me—a few of them laughing. I clenched my teeth and kept going. It wasn’t worth it to try and confront any of them about it; they were going to talk, they were going to whisper. I would have to put up with it. I could only imagine what Johnny was going through. After all, if they whispered and laughed at me just for dating him with this rumor out about him, what were people saying to him?

  I couldn’t find him in the library. I wracked my mind. He couldn’t be in classes; he didn’t have any this late in the afternoon. He could be practicing, or he could be in the gym. I moved in that direction and kept my gaze straight in front of me as I passed by more people who either giggled or whispered or went absolutely silent and tense as soon as I was in their vision. As soon as I found Johnny, I’d be able to focus on him. I’d be able to talk to him about this, comfort him if he needed me to, hug him and tell him that I knew the truth and that I trusted him absolutely. I hated how miserable I knew he must be feeling. I hated the fact that I knew that even once his name was cleared, this would continue to haunt him for weeks or months to come.

  The gym had about half of the school’s teams in it, and I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as I moved through the space, looking for Johnny. I thought that it was possible—probable, even—that he might have retreated here to work out, to distract himself from what was going on in the mess that his life had suddenly become once more. I asked a few of the guys lifting weights if they knew where Johnny was or if he had been in the gym any time recently. “Nah, he hasn’t been here. Haven’t seen him all day,” one of them said, while another suggested he might be in the dining hall.

  I couldn’t imagine any other place that Johnny would less want to be—it wasn’t like people would keep their mouths shut around him if they were willing to chatter about it around me. I was feeling uncomfortable just passing by the little groups of people who happened to be on the walkway. I couldn’t imagine how it would be to be surrounded by people, all of them staring at and talking about you while you were trying to eat. But it was the only lead I had.

  I went to the dining hall, just as I had before when I was looking for Johnny; I managed to hold myself free of panic long enough to get permission to duck into the dining area to look around. I didn’t mention who I was looking for, but it was impossible to think that no one would have had any idea. I kept my face neutral as I went through the line, as I wandered into the dining area. Everywhere I went there were either giggles and whispers or people went dead silent and looked at me in shock as if they hadn’t expected to see me, as if I was a ghost. I looked around as quickly as I possibly could, feeling like I was wasting my time. I was starting to get frustrated. There was only one other place I could think of to look for Johnny.

  I left the dining hall with my heart racing. I tried calling Johnny again, and again, there was no answer. If I couldn’t find him at the frat house, then I had no idea where he could possibly be. I would have to hope that he would take a moment to call me. I felt miserable, wanting reassurance from the man I wanted to comfort and reassure myself. It was selfish of me. But I was starting to lose my mind with worry for him. I had seen him crying the night before; I had seen how much it had affected him just to remember what had happened to Claire. I couldn’t have any way of knowing just how hard he was taking the current situation, how difficult it was on him, but I could imagine that it would be much, much harder, and more upsetting, to have to deal with it from people who didn’t love him.

  I was starting to get tired; my legs were starting to ache from walking back and forth across campus after the crying and shouting and fighting. But I had to go to the Phi Kappa house and at least see if Johnny was there. God, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he doesn’t want to see me? I could understand it if Johnny blamed me for what was happening to him now; I blamed myself. I blamed my parents. Any other girl he could have dated, could have fallen in love with, probably wouldn’t have caused him as much trouble as I did, all because my stupid parents hadn’t been able to trust me.

  As I caught sight of the row of houses belonging to the school’s fraternities and sororities, I felt a wave of relief. If Johnny wouldn’t see me, at least I might be able to pass a message to one of his brothers to give to him. If he was in the frat house, at least I would know he was okay. I would know where he was. I could wait to hear from him if I knew that he was okay.

  I made my way down the sidewalk, thinking hopefully that Johnny had never given me any reason to think he’d push me away now. Even when I had insisted on the story, even when things had been the bleakest, he had been willing to let me in and let me comfort him. I barely noticed a group of girls up ahead, walking towards another one of the frat houses. They weren’t important; getting to Johnny was important.

  I heard one of them say something—I couldn’t make out what—and then they all turned to look at me, stopping in their tracks. I went to ask them to move out of my way when I realized that one of the girls was the same one from the dining hall, the same one who had flashed her boobs at Johnny at the game, who had tried to poison me against him. “Going to see your rapist boyfriend?” she asked, giving me a wicked, cruel smile.

  “Where I’m going is none of your business,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

  “So, how do you like Johnny boy now? Once he’s had enough of you, he’ll probably pass you on to one of his frat brothers—hell, maybe he’ll let them all take a ride!” The other girls laughed.

  “Oh God, she probably loves that idea. She’ll probably cry for him to make it even better.”

&n
bsp; “Rapist fucker!” one of the other girls called out. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt my eyes stinging with tears.

  “Well, you must feel great, too,” I said, swallowing down the lump that was forming in my throat. “I mean, you’re the one who was just hanging on his every word, flashing your tits at him during the game. What’s worse than being me? Being the girl he doesn’t even want!” I turned quickly as the girls gaped and barely glanced over my shoulder to see them walking away, murmuring amongst themselves. I didn’t want to lend any credence to what they had said, but I couldn’t just sit there and take it for them, especially the redhead who’d already tried so hard to ruin my relationship—to call me names, to make fun of Johnny.

  I climbed up onto the front porch, my hands still shaking, and took a deep breath. I couldn’t hear anything going on inside the frat; as far as the silence told me, there might not be anyone inside at all. I wondered just how the brothers were handling the situation. Did they believe Johnny? Or were they now deciding to kick him out? I lifted my hand up and knocked on the door quickly. I looked like a total mess, and I knew it. Part of me wished that I had taken at least a moment to straighten myself up before coming, but somehow, I didn’t think that Johnny was going to care that much about how I looked. If he wanted to see me at all, if he wasn’t in there blaming me for his current circumstances, he would just be happy that I was there.

  I knocked again. “Coming!” someone called from the inside. I tried not to fidget as I waited for whoever it was to answer the door. I wished that I had the kind of guts to just walk in and ask about Johnny, but I barely knew the other members of the frat. I didn’t know if they’d even be okay with me walking in.

  The door opened, and I saw a guy I barely recognized—maybe he had been at the party, or maybe he had been hanging out with Johnny one of the times I’d been with him on campus. I took another quick breath to keep myself from crying. “Hey, I was hoping I could catch up with Johnny here,” I said, smiling as politely as I could. “Could I come in and talk to him?” I swallowed. The guy looked at me hesitantly, glancing around the outside of the frat house.

  “He’s not around. If he comes by, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” I was crushed. If Johnny wasn’t even with the brothers at his frat, I couldn’t imagine where he was. If he wouldn’t take my calls, I couldn’t think of how I could support him, how I could talk to him.

  “Thanks,” I said. I hesitated. “Could you—could you tell him that I still feel the same way that I did last night?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially to this stranger.

  “I’ll make sure to tell him,” the boy said, smiling slightly. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to believe that Johnny wasn’t there, but I had to accept what he had said at face value. I thanked him again and turned to leave, wishing that I’d somehow managed to find Johnny, to tell him I loved him and that I was sorry.

  Chapter Ten

  It was starting to get dark, and I was still wandering around campus; I couldn’t even realistically tell myself that I was looking for Johnny anymore. I was just continuing to walk around, trying to ignore the people talking about me as I passed them, trying to think of what I could possibly do to help the man I loved. I called a few more times, but since the calls went straight to voicemail, I didn’t even bother to leave messages. Johnny had his phone off, wherever he had gone. He wasn’t going to be answering any of my calls any time soon if he didn’t even know I was calling him. He would, I hoped, see that I had called him, see my text messages, and hear my earlier voicemail on his phone, and maybe get in touch.

  I decided that I might as well go back into the dorms. I couldn’t stand the idea of going into the dining hall even to pick something up to eat on my own. The idea of running into the stupid redhead again, or of having to watch people staring at me, pointing at me, whispering about me, was just too much to deal with. I got into the building and didn’t even take the elevator—I went straight for the stairs without looking up from my feet. I felt like I was a failure. I had no idea where Johnny was, and the fact that he hadn’t called me back yet implied that either he didn’t want to talk to anyone—even me—or he was in deeper trouble than I knew. But all I could do was wait.

  I trudged up the stairs, grateful that at least there was no one there to see me. There was no one there to laugh at me for dating someone accused of rape. I lingered at the door to my floor, listening closely to make sure that no one was in the hall, and I hated the fact that I had to do that. I took a deep breath, pushed through the door, and moved quickly to the room I shared with Georgia.

  She was in the common area, the TV on, reading one of her books from class. The moment I came in, she jumped up. “Did you find him? Is he okay? What’s the news?” I shook my head and sank down onto the couch, exhausted beyond what I could believe any person could feel and still be awake.

  “I couldn’t find him anywhere. He’s not in the gym, he’s not in the dining hall, and I know he’s not in class. He’s not in the library, and he’s not in the frat house. As far as anyone knows about him, he just fucking vanished.” I rubbed at my face with my hands. “Everyone’s talking about it, Gigi. Everyone. I can’t walk past anyone on campus without them whispering or pointing.”

  “Yeah,” Georgia agreed grimly. “It’s a shitty situation. Nothing is a secret around here.” We talked for a little while, and I started to feel a little bit better, but I couldn’t convince myself to even go downstairs with Georgia to get some food.

  “Let’s just order a damn pizza and have it delivered to the dorms. I’ll put it on my card,” I suggested. “You go and sign for it, and we’ll binge on it here and not have to deal with anyone.” Georgia pulled up the closest delivery site on her computer, and we killed a few minutes trying to figure out what we wanted. I wasn’t really hungry; I felt as if I might throw up, but I knew that I had to at least try to eat. It wasn’t going to do me any favors to starve myself while I waited.

  I tried to call Johnny again, even knowing it was useless. I sent him another text, telling him I was starting to get worried about him and begging him to call me, text me—anything, just let me know that he was okay. I couldn’t stand not knowing. I hated the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to make the situation better.

  Our pizza came, and I ate a couple of slices even though every bite felt like it took the effort of forcing down blood pudding. Georgia and I tried to study, but neither of us could focus. We talked about the situation with Claire—what I had learned, what I knew about it. I told her about my fights with my parents, and we sat around watching TV. I hated waiting; I had never been a patient person in my entire life, and the thought that Johnny might be in trouble, that he was definitely hurting from the whole crazy mess, only made it worse.

  “I guess we could see if there’s any more news on it online,” Georgia suggested. I didn’t think there would be—after all, it wasn’t like they really had anything—but I agreed. I just wanted to feel like I was doing something, even if it was compulsively checking the internet for news about him. There wasn’t any note of an arrest being made, so at least Johnny wasn’t in jail, his phone turned off and confiscated. Somehow, that made me feel better and worse at the same time. He had to have his phone, but he wasn’t taking any calls at all. He might not even be checking it. He might not know that I was looking for him, that I wanted to talk to him.

  As we looked through the newer articles, I could see that everyone was in an outrage over Johnny. People were coming out of the woodwork to talk about the case, and as we read, I started to regret eating anything at all. Everyone talked about what had happened to Claire in detail, about how she had killed herself, about the information that had come out in the trial. I wanted to throw up, reading it. Everyone was convinced—absolutely convinced—that Johnny was involved, that the only reason that he hadn’t been brought in with the rest of the boys was that he was a hockey star with big future prospects. I wanted t
o grab each and every one of the people talking about him that way and shake them or punch them. I wanted to scream in their faces that they didn’t have a single clue what they were talking about.

  Someone somewhere wrote that they lived in the area where Claire White had been from and that it was just as well that Johnny never came home, because if he showed his face in that part of the state, he was likely to be lynched. I started crying as I read people describing what they would to do him if they ever ran into him—people who had no idea of even who he was, who had already judged him based on hearsay. People who didn’t know that Johnny tortured himself over what had happened to a girl he had loved over and over again.

  “Close it out,” I told Georgia quietly. There was nothing new for us to learn from the articles being posted. I couldn’t stand to read more people talking about cutting off Johnny’s cock and feeding it to him, or beating him bloody, or killing him. I forced myself to eat another piece of pizza in the hopes that it would somehow, though I had no idea how, keep me from throwing up. I felt like I was freezing cold, I felt like I was drowning. The only thing I wanted was to be able to talk to Johnny and tell him that I loved him and believed him and would stand by him. I wanted him to tell me he was okay, that he wasn’t about to do something stupid.

  I was starting to give up hope, to tell myself that whatever Johnny was doing, he obviously wasn’t planning on even speaking to me. He might even hate me. Just when Georgia and I were starting to talk about going to bed, my phone buzzed. I nearly jumped off of the couch in my hurry to grab it; even though I told myself that it was probably one of my parents, or one of my friends, or anyone else but the person I wanted most to hear from, I had to look. A flood of relief washed through me when I saw a message notification from Johnny.

  I unlocked my phone and pulled up the message, and my heart sank. Becky, I’m sorry I’ve made you worry so much, but I can’t talk. I can’t put you through this. It’s my burden to bear. It’s my problem to solve. You…I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I can’t hurt you with all this. You have to just move on and forget you even met me. As much as I love you, you need to just cut me out of your life forever. I’m so sorry.