by Kira Blakely
She’d been moved into her own room a few months ago, and now had a hospital-style bed, the kind that could be adjusted with the touch of a button. How Dad financed that, I don’t know, but I had noticed he had stopped wearing his wedding ring. It turned my stomach to think he’d have to pawn things just to pay for the necessities that made Mom’s life easier. It didn’t seem fair. Of course, nothing in life had ever been guaranteed to be that way in the first place.
Mom sat up straighter in bed, and I tried to keep my usual, sunny smile on my face. The first round of chemo was over, and now they just had to wait and see if she’d have to start chemo again in the next few months. We’d been hoping to do the experimental medicine instead in the interim. It seemed a better bet. Still, the chemo had worked its course and now Mom just seemed so much older. Her skin was tissue-paper thin, her bones seemed to protrude now that she’d lost weight, and her bald scalp was covered with a stylish, colorful silk scarf.
I hated what was happening to her, hated seeing her slip away. Hated that the best chance we had was out of our damn grasp.
“Sweetie,” Mom said as I pulled out some plates I’d smuggled from the kitchen. “You are a lifesaver. I can’t tell you how much I needed a break from your sister’s macrobiotic everything.”
“I probably shouldn’t sneak you this. I doubt there’s anything healthy or redeeming in sweet and sour chicken.”
“But I’ve been craving it for two weeks, and it was one of the things I fantasized about keeping down when I was in chemo,” she pointed out.
“True,” I said as I scooped the rice and sauced up chicken chunks onto the plate. I’d get my food later. After the crappy excuse for negotiations today, I’d lost my appetite. “But I think Carol would still murder me,” I finished, moving her tray to her lap and placing the plate over it. We always had everything available in here; it was practically a hospital room now. “How are you doing?”
“I just watched eight hours of HGTV. I think I could renovate anything,” she chirped and then winked at me. “First step—get me a sledgehammer so I can tear out all non-load bearing walls. What about you? Did the merger talks go well?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with those.”
Mom’s smile dimmed, making my heart ache. “Honey, don’t sugar coat it. Did things go okay?”
I sat down by her bed and took her hand. “We’re going into extended negotiations, but I think we can get the leverage we need to draft up a deal. I really do.”
She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”
“Now, are we going to watch some Guardians of the Galaxy for the millionth time or what?”
***
“Dad, we need to talk.”
My heart thudded in my chest when I burst into his soon-to-be-shuttered downtown office the next day. I’d tossed and turned all night, debating my decision to take Drake McManus’s deal. I knew it was a gamble, knew exactly the kinds of things I’d be giving up and what I might be losing. No, what I would definitely be losing. But I’d also dreamed all night, dreamed of a life without Mom in it, dreamed of Dad withering away without his soulmate, dreamed about the end of our family. Mom was the heart for all us and without her, the Fontaine family wouldn’t survive, not really. If there was a way to save her, then I was going to do it, no matter what it took.
He frowned, but turned to George, our company’s chief finance officer, and nodded. George looked back at me with a raw, naked look that made me want to roll my eyes. He’d been flirting with me for years, trying to get me to go out with him since he’d first seen me when I’d come home from spring break about four years ago. To be fair, he wasn’t unattractive, not with his wiry swimmer’s build, green eyes, and cleft chin. However, there was something about him, something so self-absorbed, even in this town, that always drove me away. God, how I wished he’d take “no” for an answer, but George never passed up a chance to ask me out. Unfortunately, he was also my dad’s right-hand man, and I’d never wanted to add to Dad’s growing list of problems by telling him about George’s somewhat more skeevy side.
Besides, maybe I was just being overly sensitive about the whole thing.
“George, can you take a few minutes? I need to speak with Belle.”
George stood and passed by me, his eyes lingering on my breasts. God, if he thought he was being subtle, then he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Sure, Belle, if you want to grab lunch later, I know this great Italian place.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Really,” he pressed. “Because they do the best eggplant parmesan in the entire city. You’d love it.”
Shows what you know, I hate eggplant, not that you’d know or care.
I forced myself to stay smiling for the sake of my father. “I think I’ll pass. Have a good day, George.” He paused and something dark seemed to flicker across his expression, then he smiled back at me before hurrying out. I turned to my father and sighed. “Dad, I’m going to call Mr. McManus today.”
“What?” he asked, bolting from his chair so fast you’d have thought there was an electric current running through the seat. “You can’t. I won’t let you!”
“If we don’t do this, we’re finished, and then Mom doesn’t just lose a chance for better care, but her chance for decent care at all. Dad, it’s not because you asked me but because I’m worried for Mom. She means as much to me as she does to you or to Carol. I can do this.”
My dad stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder and then stroked my hair back. “You know the kind of things he’ll want from you. It probably won’t be just long, boring talks over contract details.”
“We don’t know for sure that he’ll ask for more,” I said, knowing the objection sounded weak even to my ears.
“It’s Drake McManus. We know there’s always more; there’re always strings.”
I nodded. “But I’m twenty-four. It’s my choice to make, and I choose to help Mom, no matter what.”
He hugged me tightly, and I could feel him shaking just a little. “Please don’t say yes.”
“Dad, I’m doing this whether you want me to or not. I just wanted to let you know first so that you wouldn’t be surprised when Mr. McManus calls you. This matters. If it helps give Mom more years or even helps her find an experimental drug treatment that gets her to remission, then it’s worth it.” I pulled away from him, working overtime to keep my composure. Dad needed to believe I was one hundred percent okay with this, even if such a crazy idea had me quivering inside. “Please, you and Mom have always been there for me. Let me be there for her, too.”
He sighed and glanced at the picture on his desk, a photo snapped of the four of us smiling at the ski slopes outside of Vail when I was still in high school. “I love the three of you more than anything. Everything I do, everything I tried to build was for you all and so you could have the kind of life I hoped you would.”
Reaching out, I took his hand and squeezed it. “Then let me do this for you.” I turned and hurried out of the room before Dad could say anything else. I didn’t need him to talk me out of it, didn’t need his own guilt and worries to wear off on me. I just needed a few minutes to catch my breath, to calm down, and then I’d call Drake. The last thing I wanted was for him to notice my shaking voice or nervousness on the line. Keeping my head up past my dad’s secretary, I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Leaning low over the sink, I splashed water over my face. The cool drops slid over my cheeks, and I almost felt normal. Almost. I looked back into the mirror and wondered if my eyes would shine back at me as wildly as I truly felt. My heart hadn’t stopped thumping the whole time with my father, and now it was a riot in my chest.
“I can do this. I can make this deal.”
Funny how I’m just a bargaining chip.
But for my mom and for my family, I’d do anything.
Easing out of the door, I was about to pull my cell fro
m my purse when I bumped into George. Apparently, he’d been waiting in the salon for me the whole time. Ugh. He was trying for casual, leaning against one of the sofas in the waiting room.
“So, you ready for that lunch?”
“I said no.”
“Okay, then let’s really cut to the chase.”
Not likely.
“And?” I said.
“I talked to Carol this morning when she came in for running some figures. She told me everything that dick McManus wants.”
“What I agree to do is my own business.”
He reached out and grabbed my forearm so tightly that I let out an involuntary yip, but still he held on. “Belle, you don’t have to do this. Think about us.”
“First, we’re not an item and we never were.”
He clenched his jaw, and I could see a vein popping out in his forehead before he spoke again. “You should be mine, Belle, and one day I’m going to find a way to make it so.”
I jerked back from him. “No. I’m not yours, and I never will be.”
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Sample
FAKING FOR HER
A Fake Relationship Romance
*Amazon Top 50 Best-seller, 4.8 stars, 275 reviews!*
I needed a girlfriend, so I bought one.
Well, I tried, but Shawna’s not the compliant type.
She’s sassy, full of spice, and everything nice.
Not to mention an a@s any man would die for.
But, in Vegas, anything is possible.
Because in this town, I’m a f#@king boss.
Unfortunately, a company I’ve been trying to buy won’t give me the time of day because they don’t TRUST ME. For f#@k’s sake!
I need a girlfriend to show I’m steady and trustworthy.
Shawna is the perfect candidate and one of the only waitresses at my casino who hasn’t slept with me.
And she’s just been evicted from her apartment because of her stalker ex-boyfriend.
Perfect timing!
She needs my money and protection. I need her soft body in my arms.
Shawna, will you be my... fake girlfriend?
Chapter One
Oh hell, not again. Shawna Peterson pushed her auburn curls off her shoulders, straightened her back and balanced the silver tray in her left hand before pasting a smile on her face and heading to the Blackjack table. She took the long route to avoid the unwanted visitor sitting at the opposite end of the bar, her steps slow and deliberate. One foot in front of the other, girl. Pretend he isn’t even here. Easier said than done, though.
Pearce Worthington had shown up during her shift every day for the past two weeks. To harass her. To badger her into getting back together with him. And when none of those worked, to threaten her if she continued to deny him the one thing he wanted right now—her sensual curves, the way her waist nipped in to exaggerate her hourglass figure. He wasn’t the first guy to take in her burlesque curves and get the wrong idea, but this was getting ridiculous.
His behavior had moved past annoying and into the realm of stalkerish. Which made no sense at all, given how their relationship of just over a month had ended. She’d shown up at his apartment, finally using the key he’d given her much too early on, deciding it was time to take things to the next level. She’d meant to surprise him, and she certainly had. She’d caught him fucking not one, but two sluts. She’d simply turned and walked away, completely over it.
She released a groan when he made his way to where she stood waiting for the bartender to get her drinks. “Don’t even bother, Pearce. I’m not in the mood for your shit today.”
The bastard chuckled, brushing his honey-blond hair across his forehead. How did I ever find that attractive? But she knew how. She was sick and tired of pretending her battery-operated boyfriend was her super sexy boss, Gage Steele, and Pearce had been the first seemingly nice guy to approach her. His silver-green eyes had raked over her body, clad in the casino’s mandated figure-hugging uniform that did more than hug. That sucker clung to her breasts, which she’d always thought were too big for her height, drawing attention to their movement with every step and her ass, which had always made finding jeans a problem.
Men didn’t seem to mind, but every day, she stepped onto the casino floor and felt like she was completely exposed in her uniform. Uncomfortable. But the tips kept her just this side of the Ramen noodle diet. The Revolution Hotel & Casino stuck to the Revolutionary War theme, requiring cocktail waitresses to wear white booty shorts and a patriot “jacket” that was actually a bustier in the custom red, white and blue.
“Just give me what I want and I’ll be gone,” Pearce wheedled.
Fat chance. She snorted while rearranging the drinks on her tray. “Go back to those skanky girls you had no problem cheating on me with.” She couldn’t stop the bile from rising as she thought of all the things he’d done with two complete strangers. She couldn’t unsee him lying prone with a woman riding his face and another riding his cock like some really bad porn. And his unprotected erection had made sure she would never, ever reconsider their relationship status. The only thing that stopped the situation from being completely humiliating was the she hadn’t yet slept with the unfaithful jackass.
“Come on, babe. Those girls meant nothing to me other than a quick fuck. I can’t get the image of you in that sexy lingerie out of my head.” His gaze crawled down the length of her body before traveling back up as he trailed a finger down her arm in a move she guessed was meant to be sexy.
Instead, she shuddered and stepped away. She wished he’d showed her this side of himself before she’d agreed to that first date. And the second. He’d seemed so nice at the beginning, but now she was starting to see that it had all been an act.
“Then that image is all you’ll ever get from me, Pearce. Back. Off.” She really needed this job because she liked things like a warm bed, electricity and food, but also because it allowed her to pay for her education. She was only one semester into graduate school, and she needed this job to get her through business school. To a new life in a city that wasn’t Las Vegas.
With the drinks settled on the tray, she grabbed it and turned away, a surprised gasp escaping when Pearce grabbed her arm. “Let. Me. Go.” Her voice was low and lethal. Who in the hell did he think he was?
“You think you can walk away from me, bitch? I wonder if you’d be so disagreeable if you no longer had a place to live, or a place in the business program.”
Shawna yanked her arm again, unable to break free of his tight grip. This wasn’t the sometimes arrogant but mostly likeable guy who’d taken her miniature golfing. This guy was… unhinged. “I still wouldn’t want you, and I wonder if you’d be such a tough guy if my hands weren’t full.” Her green eyes shot fire at him, as she wished like hell she could actually incinerate him with her gaze.
He let her go at those words, but her relief was short-lived since he was still leaning against the bar when she returned from the blackjack tables with her empty tray.
“Ready to handle me now?” He slid closer with a greasy smirk, grabbing her arm again, only much tighter. To everyone else, he just looked like another lecherous gambler, but his grip was tight enough that she knew her fair skin would bruise.
Shawna let the tray fall against the bar and used her free hand to grab a handful of his blond hair. “Let. Me. Go.”
“Everything all right over here, honey?”
She knew that deep voice. Knew it well, since it was the voice that urged her to do incredibly naughty things in her dirtiest fantasies. Gage Steele was the tall tanned Viking who owned the casino she worked in, along with who knew how many others around the world. She’d been seriously turned on by him since the moment they’d met, and he’d seemed to reciprocate, immediately flirting and asking her out. But she knew that the sexy billionaire only wanted a one-night stand. And she didn’t want to be just another of his many women.
S
lowly, her head swiveled and, yep, sure enough, it was him. Wait, did he just call me honey? “Uh, no, actually, sweetie.”
***
Gage would have laughed at the flash of bewilderment in Shawna’s eyes if he hadn’t also seen her relief at his interruption. For most women, just the sight of him, hotel and casino owner and billionaire playboy would be enough to produce swoons, dilated pupils and offerings of wild kinky sex. When they found out he was also a former underwear model, they couldn’t get on their backs fast enough.
But seeing that heated look in Shawna’s eyes surprised him. About damn time. The woman was as stubborn as she was gorgeous, her pale skin dotted with freckles just begging to be touched and kissed, fiery auburn hair shot through with gold and big almond-shaped green eyes that brought out his protective instinct.
He’d been attracted to her at first glance, and then increasingly intrigued by her when she’d turned him down not just once but on multiple occasions. That never happened.
“What’s going on?” His gaze slid from her to the creep holding her too tight.
She yanked free of the asshole and sidled up close to Gage. “This is the ex I told you about the other night,” she said uncomfortably, drawing a smirk from him, “and he just wanted me to know that he could have me kicked out of my apartment and grad school unless I go back to his cheating ass.”
Gage’s brows rose angrily, and his chest puffed out as he held her tighter, standing protectively in front of her. “Is that so?” It wasn’t really a question, but a threat. “Sick of spending Daddy’s money, Pearce?”
He’d recognize Walter Worthington’s son anywhere. His business rival acted as though his worthless son was his pride and joy, but as far as Gage could tell, Pearce had been getting a degree for years.
Pearce gave a greasy smile and stood a little taller, which wasn’t noticeable next to Gage’s six-three frame. His nostrils flared, and he doubled down on the slimy smile, shaking his hair from his eyes and glancing at Shawna. Real men get haircuts, asshole.
