FAKE: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone Romance

by Sarah J. Brooks

“I’m thinking we come in with a mil offer, and I’m sure they’ll cave. We may go as high as one point five, but even for that, the building revenue is fifteen million or more a year. Put some lofts in there or make it a pod hotel, the opportunities are endless. Seriously, the building should be selling for at least twenty mils. This lady who offered it to Kylie Morgan must be insane.” Or extraordinarily generous.

  He was ravenous for this sale as he was most opportunities to steal from the needy. I really fought the urge to tell him to go fuck himself, but the whole thing was my idea. I couldn’t fault him for being a ravenous viper.

  “Make an offer, but be sure it’s a deal. Avoid doubling down, yet do it if you have to. I want that building.” His face brightened as he listened to me, no doubt envisioning stealing from poor ‘street kids’ he somehow demonized in his small world view. “This is going to be personal. I want the building for myself. Pay cash, I have plenty. This will not be going into the company inventory. I’ll fund it as soon as you assure me the sale will be made. Do it today. I want it done by Friday night.” His eyes widened as the urgency in my voice rose.

  “Personal? I don’t mind doing it, but wouldn't it be wise to keep all of your business ventures under the business umbrella for insurance and tax purposes? You’ll lose your shirt if this enterprise goes under your personal account.” Greedy fucking bastard.

  “No, I’m not going to make it an enterprise,” I argued, not wanting to share too many details.

  “What do you need with a massive building like that? It’s probably got a hell of a lot of problems. I think every window is broken, and then there’s the pest control and cleanup, who knows if anything is functioning.” He then had the audacity to ask. “You’re not getting into pot storage, are you? That shit smells bad, and the mafia is all over it in New York.”

  “It’s none of your business, just get me the building. You best leave now; I want it secured by this evening. We can do the paperwork tomorrow. I want to be the owner by Friday. You’re dismissed.” I stared him down as his face turned from delighted to disgruntled.

  “I’ll let you know what I can do.” He was no longer motivated.

  “You’ll get a seven percent private commission off the books.” That brightened him up.

  Suddenly all my angst and sexual frustration evaporated. Soon, I’d be holding all the cards. I’d have Kylie exactly where I wanted her.

  The next two days were very busy. We finished the deal with Tokyo, and we were closing in on a new project in Dubai that looked to make us millions. Most importantly, after brutal and grueling negotiations, Larry got Mary Kay Ludemeyer to agree to sell me the building for a song. Luckily, the old woman, who was nearing ninety, had a greedy little bastard of a grandson who took our one point two million dollar cash offer without telling his grandma the details. I think the poor old woman still thought her grandfather’s factory was going to help disadvantaged kids. I was now the owner of a derelict Lower East Side building.

  The two days before Kylie’s charity auction passed quickly with all the business I was attending. I could hardly contain my arousal just thinking of what would be happening that night. I secured funds from my private account for the auction and held the deed to the building Kylie so desperately wanted in my hand. The event was a massive affair. Musicians, politicians, influencers, and businesspeople all were in attendance. The Every Dream Foundation was set to make a bundle that night, which was also the launch of a new fashion brand, Flower Street. A clothing line that mixed art, fashion, and music, a brainchild of Kylie and her roommate Avery Johnson. Everything Kylie touched was cool, and the event was no exception.

  A car brought me alone to the Park Avenue location. I didn’t need nor want anyone interrupting my evening. The night started as most of these affairs did, with a commencement speech and then music, food, and banal conversation. When the lights dimmed, my arousal flared again; it was almost time for my fun to begin. The music pumped hard. An emcee took the stage wearing a tuxedo shirt and a long, flowing, hand-painted graffiti skirt. He was as masculine as they came, but his dress denoted fashion from all over the planet in a gender-bending, dance style that was as off-putting as it was intriguing.

  I had to remind myself that these were Kylie’s people, they were a far cry from my own, but then I had to consider, did I even like my own people? Apart from Christian, who probably would fit with this crowd better than I ever would, I had no one I would consider a true friend. I hoped to change that. Kylie was someone I was seriously considering keeping, at least for a little while.

  “Okay, everyone. Thank you for being here, what an amazing turnout. So I’m not going to say too much, but I did want to shout out to Avery Johnson, who’ll be out here in a minute to introduce her collection, Kylie Morgan, whose nonprofit Every Dream is why we are here tonight and Maralis Guiettierez from Elite Models for putting all this together. All of the hosts serving your tables this evening are clients of the Every Dream foundation, and you’ve already heard speeches from several of them this evening, so without more blabbering, I welcome to the stage, Avery Johnson.

  There was an enthusiastic round of applause, and Avery, who I had already met at the bar and when I went to try and snag Kylie from her home, took the mic.

  “Thanks, Johan,” Geez even the guy’s name was off-puttingly sexy. “So, welcome to Flower Street. The looks you’ll see tonight were all inspired by trauma recovery and living every dream. It’s a blend of what’s often too hard to face with what we hope for our future. I hope you enjoy the show. Also, as you all know, all of the models in the fashion show will be part of this evening’s auction. If you see someone you like, please refer to the catalog, and when bidding begins, you may make a discrete bid on your model. The evening will commence right after the auction. There will be dancing and live music by the great Daz Lights Band, dinner, dessert, open bar, comedy show, and the art gallery next door will open for models and their patrons only. I’m sure I don’t have to say it, but no funny business, this is a strictly in-house event, no wandering off, and if anyone needs anything, there are hosts everywhere to attend your needs. Okay, enjoy the show.” With that, Avery stepped away from the mic, and the house lights went out to be replaced by strobe lights and police sirens to a beat.

  It was electrifying. The fashion was as weird and compelling as the emcee’s outfit. Lots of mixes of ripped clothes, hand paintings, odd add-ons, and lots of skin in many shapes, shades, and sizes. I loved that they weren’t just using twigs as models. They even had one model that was spellbindingly attractive in a wheelchair. Though the runway show held my interest, I don’t think I breathed until I finally saw her. She wore an enormous gossamer cape with a massive hood, and a white wedding dress with ravens painted in silhouette flying up from her hemline. Her face was beautifully made up, and her hair had been elegantly knotted to her head with a wig as she still had short hair. She looked like an urban princess ready to run away with a mythological prince.

  I would be more than happy to oblige that fantasy. When the fashion show ended, I sat up in my seat and felt the handle of the auction paddle. I had to be ready as I assumed Kylie would be the top prize tonight for more than just me.

  “Alright everyone, we are ready for the big event. Raise your paddle if you are interested in bidding. The date will go to the highest bidder, and remember all the money from tonight’s auction goes to the Every Dream foundation. Okay, good luck, and I hope you have an incredible evening.”

  I fiddled with the paddle barely able to contain myself, guaranteed my evening was going to be remarkable. I had food in my refrigerator, rose petals in the Jacuzzi tub, a vat of ice cream to scare Kylie as a joke. Soft cozy robes, tons of lube ... yes, tonight was going to be remarkable for sure.

  Chapter 15

  Kylie

  I saw him in the audience and knew Alec was on the guest list. He sat at a table all by himself. How could the bastard show his face? He had just bought the building I’d spent the la
st month trying to secure. Yes, the place was a rat trap, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to get it up to code, but I thought with the money from the auction, we’d have a place to start. Mrs. Ludemeyer was a friend of Avery’s mom. She was going to give us the building for almost nothing by New York real estate standards; it was a butt load of money for us. Alec, the greedy mother fucker, found a way to buy it out from under us. I could barely look at his face.

  Compounding my stress and anxiety over Alec’s buying our building was the fact that my dress barely fit. I could hardly breathe in it, and I felt as if I might pass out. I had to hold it together, though. I owed it to Avery and my foundation to keep my cool. My efforts to turn my reputation around and start being seen as a responsible human in society were working. Having a scandalous collapse on stage at my own event wouldn’t be great press, so I just focused on breathing. We had already let the dress out once, but it still was too tight around my stomach.

  “Next up, Kylie Morgan.” The room went wild, and I did everything I could to just get my ass out on stage. “Okay, bids for Kylie start at five thousand dollars.”

  It was hard not to feel like a piece of meat standing out there in my avant-garde wedding dress, but we had agreed this was the best way to raise the largest amount of money.

  I stood out in front of the hot lights unable to see who was bidding on me, but I listened as the price escalated quickly.

  “One hundred thousand dollars, what?” Johan had gotten a note from one of the hosts.

  The room fell silent as he read the note. “Well, okay. This is a first for me. I’ve never seen this happen in a live auction before, but I have in my hand a bid for one million, five hundred thousand dollars for Kylie Morgan. Does anyone want to bid higher?”

  I was definitely going to throw up. I didn’t have to see who had made the bid to know it was Alec. Why would Alec buy the building we were trying to secure and then spend one point five million dollars to have dinner with me? I truly started to worry that there was something really off about that man.

  “Okay, do we have any other bids? Anyone? Kylie Morgan is sold for one point five million dollars.”

  Don’t pass out, don’t throw up. Don’t pass out, don’t throw up.

  “Well, that’s it for the evening; you can collect your date at the far end of the event hall. They will be yours for the evening until the event ends at ten o’clock. Before meeting with your date, make sure to give the host your credit card or other means of payment. Thank you all for being here, enjoy dinner, dancing, the show and drinks. For patrons and models only, the exclusive art gallery next door welcomes you with masterworks that are on tour, including Picasso and Monet.” With that my fate was sealed.

  On shaky legs, I walked down the catwalk and to the far corner of the room where bar stools and tables were set up with our names on them, scrolled in gold with a bouquet of flowers before each. I kept trying to tell myself that the money was for charity and to help kids who didn’t have a chance to escape a night on the streets. There was water there for us with a sliver of lemon floating on the top. I guzzled the whole glass before Alec walked up to me wearing a dark gray tuxedo with a black tie and light blue pressed dress shirt.

  “Over one million dollars,” his voice was velvet as he took a seat on the barstool across from me. “You are a hard woman to track down ... and expensive.”

  I took a breath. Don’t insult him, don’t insult him.

  “The bidding was only at one hundred thousand, you could have saved your money.” I did my best to put lightness and mirth into my tone.

  A waiter came to our table and asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “We’ll have a bottle of your finest red wine, whatever it is.” Alec brushed the waiter off.

  “None for me, thank you,” I interrupted. “I have a photoshoot tomorrow. Red wine makes my eyes puffy.” I tried not to make myself sound too vain or crazy.

  “Is there anything else you want?” He seemed surprised I wouldn’t be drinking.

  “Nope. I’m good with water.” I flashed him a smile.

  “You really aren’t much of a drinker. Fine. I’ll just have a Belvedere and tonic.” He was short with the waiter, but I think that irritation was more directed at me than at him.

  “Would you like to go to our table, or are you comfortable sitting here on the auction block?” Ah, that weird sense of humor he had.

  “Let’s go to the table by all means.” I gathered up all of my dress, and he rose, maneuvering behind me to help.

  “That’s quite a lot of dress you’ve got there. Beautiful, but I’d much rather see you out of it.” His voice dripped with seduction as a camera light flashed in our faces.

  Photographers were all over the place as were fashion icons, models, actors, and musicians.

  “Maybe I can make a tent out of it.” I grit my teeth as I smiled. “Since you bought the building, we were planning on using for my foundation.”

  His hand rounded my back as he escorted me to a private area out of the fray. Marcus Danton approached us as we maneuvered through the people to get to our table.

  “One point five million dollars … man, that is a helluva lot of cash to throw down. You won fair and square.” Marcus Danton walked up to Alec and shook his hand. “I was ready to go to half a mil.” He looked at me. “Kylie you’re worth so much more, but I have my funds tied up. May I?” He glanced at Alec as he took my hand and kissed it. “Let’s have lunch next week.”

  “I’d love to.” I flashed Marcus a big smile.

  He was a rapper friend of mine, and he was loaded, almost as rich as Alec but not quite. That was really sweet of him to bid so high.

  “You can’t just waltz in here and book lunch with my date.” I think Alec was trying to make a joke, but he sounded oddly serious.

  “My bad, she’s on your dime now.” Marcus let Alec’s weirdness just roll off his back as he flashed me a smile and left.

  By the time we reached our table, there were more photographers and well-wishers. It was all becoming very overwhelming, and I did appreciate Alec realizing I couldn’t take much more of the night’s intensity. I was either going to have to be whisked somewhere private or taken out of the place. It was my event, though. I had to at least stay for dinner.

  “You okay?” The note of genuine concern in his voice was sweet.

  “It’s been a really long day, and with all the buzz and the people, I’m just feeling light-headed. Maybe I need to eat.” The room was definitely off-kilter, and my stomach rolled with nausea.

  Alec raised his hand to get the host’s attention. “You definitely need to eat.” A hostess came to him within moments, and he whispered something into her ear. After he was done talking to the host he turned to me. “You’re looking a little rounder these days,” he threw out there. “I love seeing a little meat on your bones, though you’re still too skinny …”

  “I’m a model,” I was about to protest when the head of security neared our table.

  “May I help you, Mr. Blair?’ He was kind and yet just a little concerned.

  “As you know, I’ve just spent a lot of money on my date here, and I’d be ever so glad if you could station a guard near our table. I’d like to have a private conversation with Ms. Morgan without interruptions.” Wow, he iced over fast.

  “Of course. I’ll have someone sent over here immediately.” The security guard gave a curt nod, and everyone ran in one direction or another, probably trying to find someone who could fulfill Alec’s request.

  “Hopefully that will be better.” He turned to me and smiled.

  The waiter then came with more water for me and Alec’s drink. He also had our starter salads. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m Rogen, and I’ll be your private waiter for the evening.”

  “I think we’re good here,” Alec answered for me, which I appreciated because I still wasn’t one hundred percent. He looked at me. “Did you pick the menu for the event
?” Ah, he was making small talk.

  “I did. I love radicchio and blueberries.” I flashed him a friendly smile, though I so badly wanted to ask him why he’d bought my building.

  “Very refreshing. So,” he took a sip of his drink. “Do you want to tell me why you ran out on me three months ago? I know you and I have seen each other briefly since, but I’ve always been curious.” His voice almost sounded hurt.

  “The night we spent together …” I trembled just thinking about it and took a sip of my water as the security guard came and talked to people who were trying to approach our table, “… was really intense. I ... we had said it was only going to be one night. I didn’t know where to put my feelings, so I bottled them up and tucked them away.” It truly was the best answer I could give him.

  “But I told you I was open to exploring more.” He drank another sip of his cocktail and picked at his salad.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t very hungry. “What is more to Alec Blair? Another night of fucking?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “A meal, a movie, maybe a night at the opera ... or a charity event? We’re seen together in the media, rumors blossom, suddenly I’m dating you. Only you aren’t sanctioned by my modeling agency, and I’m not really allowed to go rogue. We have a list of acceptable people for me to be ‘promiscuous’ with and you aren’t on that list. You’re too high profile, too much collateral. Getting in bed with you would be dangerous, too many people would care. But I did get in bed with you, and no one knew. I made it out alive.” I took a deep breath.

  “I see, so I’d cramp your style? Not cool enough, too high profile, not gay or committed enough to be a contender? What? Billionaire bachelors aren’t hot commodities anymore?” His feathers were definitely being ruffled. “How do I get on your agency’s list?”

  “I never slept with any of the men I’d dated. I felt good knowing it was all a show. I slept with you. That messed things up in my head.” I finished my water, and the waiter immediately grabbed a pitcher to refill my glass.