Enchanted: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #8): A Fake Fiancée Romance

by Ainsley St Claire

  Once we are in the elevator heading to the appropriate floor, I finally find my voice. “Holy cow, this place is buttoned up tight.”

  “It’s not too bad. The federal courthouse is worse, but hopefully this Tom guy will fold like a bad hand of poker and you’ll never have to deal with testifying,” Marci commiserates.

  “Agreed,” Emerson says.

  We’re shown to a nondescript conference room, and Emerson is led to a waiting area. Agent James arrives with an entourage of four other agents, so I’m really glad to have Marci sitting with me.

  They walk me through my statement multiple times. Asking the same questions over and over in different ways. Agent James ends our interview with a warning, “Miss Faraday, please be aware of your surroundings.” He hands me his card with his personal cell phone number written on it. “You can call me day or night if you need anything.”

  I’m exhausted when they finally wrap up.

  We walk out and find Emerson still waiting. What kind of boss would do this? She’s amazing.

  Riding the elevator downstairs, Marci exclaims, “I think someone has a crush on our Miss Faraday.” She grins widely.

  “What?” I say.

  “Agent James gave you his personal cell phone number, and you can call him anytime. He must have said that a few times. I’ve never seen an FBI agent offer anything like that.”

  “And here you were just yesterday saying that all the good ones are taken,” Emerson muses.

  “You both are something else. It was completely harmless. He isn’t interested in me,” I insist.

  We walk out to a waiting car, which drops me at my building first.

  It ended up being almost a twenty-hour day, and I’m beyond exhausted. I need to get some sleep. I’m letting Cameron and the FBI Cybercrimes team take care of what happened today. I set my alarm for seven—only a few short hours away. My head hits the pillow, and it’s like I’ve hit my second wind. I’m so tired I can’t sleep. This is so typical of me. I’ve been running so hard today that I can’t calm my mind enough to find sleep.

  My thoughts become like a pinball stuck between bumpers back and forth faster and faster. Lying in the dark, I stare at the ceiling as the time clicks by, and I can’t sleep. I think about what happened today and the rush of getting the upper hand against the mole, but the fear also creeps up the back of my throat.

  I’m still worried that I’m going to lose my job. The FBI will investigate me and may let my secret out. Agent James will no longer be interested. That’d be a black eye on his future. Then there’s William. Every time I glanced at him when I was in the office, he seemed to be watching me. I know he’s curious about my second job, and I’ll only be able to put him off for so long. Once he gets tired of that, I’m sure he’ll be ready to tell Mason. Wouldn’t that be just perfect? Mason would have another reason to hate my guts.

  I can just see the next B-school class reunion. He’ll be celebrated as the most successful of our class, and I bet he’ll tell everyone that after working for a VC that went belly up, I decided to become a sex worker. The guys from business school will just love that. They’re big enough assholes, they’ll all try to start sleazy relationships with me. They always thought the girls didn’t belong in business but instead on their backs with their legs spread wide. Okay, I’m overgeneralizing. Maybe one or two did. But in a perverse way, they’d love to see something like that from any of our former classmates. It’s good, juicy gossip. I’d have no one to blame but myself.

  I’m not sure when I finally fell asleep, but it eventually happened. When my alarm sounds, I lean over and shut it off. Today is going to suck for sure.

  I pull the covers back and realize it’s cold in my apartment. My heat is electric, and I can’t afford for it to run at night. It’s too damn expensive. I swear I can see my breath. The cold air usually jolts me awake, but this morning it makes me want to curl up under my comforter and hide.

  I look at my phone and see several texts have come in this morning.

  Emerson: Excellent work yesterday. Take your time coming in.

  Her text makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I adore her!

  Me: Thanks. I shouldn’t be too late.

  CeCe: Awesome job! Lunch on me next week! We’re going to celebrate.

  I’ve gotten to know CeCe through Emerson, and she’s so kind. I can’t wait to go out with her.

  Me: Sounds like fun! Count me in.

  Dillon: Truly well done! You figured out the hackers were at a client site, which allowed us to launch countersurveillance. Then you chased down the engineering manager and probable spy so they wouldn’t get away. You were amazing. Thank you!

  Dillon oversees our finances, and the hackers seems to have given him the most heartache. He wants them to go away more than anyone else.

  Me: Thank you.

  Greer: I think I can set up an interview with the Silicon Valley Business Journal. Any interest?

  That would be a mess. Today I’m a hero, and next week I’m dragging them through the mud because somehow someone figures out I have a second job. No thanks.

  Me: Thanks for the offer of stardom, but I’ll probably pass. Cameron would be great for that though.

  Greer: I can get Cameron in the papers anytime. I want you. I’m not giving up that easily.

  Cynthia: You rock! Well done!

  I love Cynthia. She’s always been so kind to me.

  Me: You rock, too! Lunch today?

  Cynthia: I’m in. My treat!

  That’s the best news of all.

  Christopher: Amazing job. So glad you’re on our team.

  I’m so glad you said that, Christopher. I hope you feel the same when our peer, William, tells you my secret.

  Me: Thank you.

  William: Well done, kitten. I can think of all sorts of ways we can celebrate.

  I can’t help but think of his waterboard abs and where the happy trail leads. My traitorous body wants to enjoy all sorts of debauchery with him. While tempting, that would only make the mess I’ve created worse.

  Me: Dream on.

  William: Trust me, since hearing your voice mail, I’ve been dreaming. When will you understand that you’ve transfixed me?

  Me: I’m a lost cause. Move on to your next conquest. Jennifer?

  William: I only have eyes for you. See you when you get in.

  I’m not going to respond to that, but it does make my heart beat faster. Eyes for only me? I need to pay attention to reality. He’s the type that sleeps with any woman with a pulse. Sleeping with him—if you can call it that— will only get me into more trouble.

  Mason: You’re a valuable member of our team.

  Mason’s text makes me laugh out loud. Could it be any more difficult for him to say something complementary?

  Me: Thanks, Mason. That must have been really hard to say.

  Zing!

  Mason: It wasn’t hard to say at all. I really mean it.

  Me: Then, thank you.

  Chapter nine

  William

  The change in the will affects the one thing I’ve always been hesitant to talk about with my dad. We never had a close relationship, and he once told me that he was putting everything in a trust, and his wish was to give the bulk of it to my mother’s favorite charities. My parents had a great relationship, and I’ve not seen many people have that. They truly complemented one another. My dad was bookish and an engineering nerd; my mother was outgoing and beloved by all. I see that in some of my coworkers and their partners, but so many of my friends settled when they married and are unhappy. I don’t want that.

  As I drive into the office today, I think about who I might know that I could take with me to Philadelphia.

  Amanda is a fun lay. We met in business school in Philly, and we’ve often played with one another. It’s been a while since we’ve talked. We always had a decent friends-with-benefits kind of relationship. She’s usually up for whatever floats someone’s boat—as long as everyone i
s enjoying themselves and providing there aren’t minors or animals involved. I love her easygoing attitude. I consider asking her, but then I realize she probably wouldn’t go along with a ruse without some sort of percentage in the end. No. She won’t work.

  I park in the garage in our building, but it’s a little earlier than normal, so rather than make a coffee in our office kitchen, I walk across the street and hit Starbucks. As I stand in line, I think about Jody. We went out a few weeks ago. She’s adventurous in the sack, but unfortunately, we don’t have much in common, and if I'm honest with myself, if she were to light up a joint in my dad’s house, that would be the end of it all, and that’s her style. She’s definitely a free spirit, which can be fun when you’re naked, but I like a lot more structure in my personal life. No. She won’t work.

  As I walk back to the office, I think about Cheryl. She is tall, blonde, and has a knockout figure, courtesy of a plastic surgeon. I’m pretty sure she hates my guts because she wanted more than I was willing to give. She’s looking for a husband, and this might give her the wrong idea. Plus, I’m fairly certain she’d throw me under a bus before helping me out. No. She won’t work.

  While riding up in the elevator, it hits me. Suzanne might work. She’s not really into getting serious. She’s easygoing, professional, and good-looking. I think she’ll work out for what I need. I’m feeling extra tall now that I have this all figured out. It’ll be a week of good sex, and she likes a bit of kink, which always makes life interesting. I walk into my office, fire up my computer, and give her a call. She answers after the third ring.

  “Hey, Suz. What’s up?” I can’t just jump into this. I need to work my way into my situation so I can make sure she’ll be on board with what I need and not think I’ll propose when all of this is over.

  “What a surprise. I haven’t heard from you in a while. In fact, it’s been at least eight months.”

  “I don’t think it’s been that long,” I tease.

  “No, I’m pretty sure because that’s when I got serious with my boyfriend.”

  My stomach drops. This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. “How serious are you with this boyfriend?”

  “Well, he’s no longer my boyfriend. He’s my fiancée, and I’m getting married in a few weeks.”

  “Married? I guess getting away for a week would be out of the question.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  We disconnect the call, and I stare at the ceiling. No. She won’t work.

  Then it hits me—Vivian. There’s an idea. She’s smokin’ hot and wouldn’t ask too many questions. I give her a call.

  “William,” she purrs when she answers the phone.

  “Hey, beautiful. How are you?”

  “I’m very good. How about you?”

  “Not bad. You up for drinks tonight and maybe whatever?”

  I hear her deep, throaty laugh, and usually that gets me rock hard, but instead, I think my testicles ascend into my abdomen. “You lookin’ for a taste?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I’d love to meet with you, but I have a date tonight. Can we try another night?”

  Feeling relieved, I realize that I really don’t want to see her, and I don’t want a taste of her, but at this point it would be rude to tell her outright, so instead, I say, “Sure. Another night. I’ll call you.”

  “I can’t wait,” she breathes into the phone.

  Looking up across the office, I see her, and instantly I know that’s who I really want to come home with me. Quinn is beautiful by any standards, and she has such an easy way about her. The hard part will be convincing her.

  I use the interoffice messaging and send her a note.

  Me: You available for lunch today?

  She’s quick to respond.

  Quinn: Sorry. I have plans.

  Me: Drinks after work?

  Quinn: Sorry. I have plans.

  Me: Coffee today. You can figure out how to make it work. This involves that second job of yours.

  Quinn: I’ll meet you at the Starbucks on Market and 2nd.

  That’s several blocks away. She must not want to have the conversation where anyone in the office can overhear. That’s fine. I don’t want anyone to know I have to bring someone home for the reading of my father’s will.

  Me: See you then. Don’t be late.

  The morning is slow going, but it gives me time to go through more women on my mental checklist, and it only solidifies my desire to bring Quinn home with me.

  Market Street divides the city in half. There’s something insanely strange about how people feel they are more special depending on what side of Market they live or work on. The tech hub of San Francisco for start-ups is in SOMA, which is the South of Market neighborhood. Our offices overlook Oracle Park where the Giant’s play baseball, and it’s a great place, but Market Street divides the city, and where Quinn has suggested we meet is right on the edge of Union Square, and there are a lot of tourists.

  I grab a burger from a favorite spot close by and then walk over to Starbucks and secure a table in the front corner. I order coffee for me, and I’ve seen her drink tea, so I order her a tea with the tea bag out so she can exchange it if she prefers something else.

  When she arrives, I can see my request to meet has pissed her off. Either that or somebody outside of our meeting has upset her.

  She sits down and softens slightly when she sees the hot water and a package of Earl Grey tea.

  “I didn’t have them put the tea bag in, so you can exchange it for another flavor if you prefer,” I offer.

  “No, this is surprisingly perfect.”

  I smile at getting it right. A good start for my request.

  She takes a cautious sip and looks at me. “What do you want?”

  “I need a favor.”

  She looks like she’s going to throw a punch, so I carefully explain. “My father was killed in a helicopter crash in Tanzania a few weeks ago. My mother passed away when I was young, and my stepmonster is trying to take my dad’s money. I really couldn’t care less about the money, and originally it was supposed to go into a trust, but now it seems that my stepmonster was successful in getting my dad to change his will. Instead of his estate going to my mom’s favorite charities, it will go to her and me—but only if I’m married. If I’m not married, it will revert to her and her two sons, who I affectionately refer to as Dumb and Stupid.”

  She watches me carefully. “What do you want from me? Have phone sex with Dumb and Stupid?”

  The thought alone makes me worried about exposing her to the two assholes. “No. Not at all. I need someone to join me in Philadelphia next week and play my fiancée. I’m not expecting anything intimate; I just need this help. Please do this for me?”

  “And if I don’t, are you going to tell the partners about my second job?”

  “No, I would never tell the partners regardless of whether or not you join me. I enjoy spending time with you. It would be a small vacation from the office and a break. And I’ll pay you.”

  “But you said you needed to be married to get the money.”

  “That’s true, but they don’t know that my dad’s lawyer already told me the condition of the will, and if you’re with me, it may get them to relax before they spend all my dad’s money.”

  She sizes me up. “When are you thinking of going?”

  “I was planning on leaving Monday after work and be in Philly through at least Friday, possibly the weekend.”

  “What are your plans to do with the money?”

  “My mother was a big advocate of CASA. It’s a—”

  “I know it, Court Appointed Special Advocates for children.”

  “Exactly. I think the bulk would go there but also to a few of her women’s charities that were important to her. I’m not rich, Quinn, but I’m working on making my own money. Dumb and Stupid would buy cars and houses. I
don’t want my family money to go to them.”

  “I’ll check with Emerson and make sure I can have time off.” She takes another sip of her tea before clearly telling me, “There’ll be no funny business. I may flirt, but nothing more.”

  I’m over the moon excited she’s going to join me. This will go a long way to convincing the thieves that my dad’s money won’t be easy to get to. We throw our empty cups into the recycling and start to walk back to the office.

  “I suppose we should talk about a few things once I get approval from Emerson to go.”

  The idea of spending more time with Quinn makes my heart race. Maybe I’ll be able to convince her she wants more from me. Because I know I want that sultry voice on my voice mail to do all kinds of naughty things to me.

  “Whatever you need. I’m happy to take you out to dinner, drinks… whatever.”

  “Tell me about your mom and dad.”

  Taking a deep breath, I consider about all the things I want to say. “My mom died when I was young. I hate to admit it, but my memories of her are beginning to blur. She made me so happy though. I know they wanted more kids, but it wasn’t in the cards for them, so she put all her energy into me. She wasn’t one of those helicopter parents, but she encouraged me to be a better human being and was so supportive. God, she was funny too. Not only could she tell some great G-rated jokes, but she could laugh at herself if she stumbled or did something silly. What I remember most prominently about my mom is that no matter where we went, I knew I was the center of her universe, but she could make a friend with a complete stranger. People just opened up to her and told her their life story. She just had that kind of personality that drew people to her.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  “She was. I miss her every day.”

  “Tell me about your dad.”

  “He was different before my mom died. He worshiped her. He did so many things for her. He brought her flowers for no reason. We’d always make a big production of going shopping at Marshall Fields before any holiday, and we’d buy her something she didn’t need. There was so much laughter in our house, and looking back, they must have really heated up the sheets because I can remember the looks they’d give one another that I didn’t understand at the time. He was devastated when she died. I was young, and he didn’t know what to do with me. I remember going to her funeral, and my dad left in the middle without me. He just went home and left me behind. My aunt told me he wanted to cry in private, but I don’t know for sure. I don’t remember how I got home that day, but from that moment on, we were more roommates than father and son. It was like the day she died, the light went off inside him. He did what he needed to, but we had a housekeeper who made sure I got fed and to and from school. Beyond that, I was on my own.”