When the grey light of dawn starts peeking through my blinds, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch my neck from side to side.
I haven’t slept at all. I tossed and turned all night, thinking of Naomi’s face before she left. It was red, blotchy, and just as beautiful as always. Her eyes, though, they killed me. She looked as betrayed as I felt.
I did that to her. I made her feel that way. I’m the reason that she was in pain.
And for what?
Nothing makes sense. She’s right—why would she lie about her mother? I’ve seen Jackie. I know she’s sick. Was that just a coincidence that worked out well for their little plan?
I stand up, stalking to the living room and taking the private investigator’s file out of my briefcase. I stare at the yellow folder, gritting my teeth and taking a deep breath.
I flick through it, reading everything carefully.
It’s all there. Her mother’s illness, the foreclosure on the house, her student loans. Why would she have financial troubles if her father owns a multi-million dollar corporation? Even if he was going through financial problems, which would explain the acquisition, he would still have had enough money to pay for her college fees ten years ago.
It just doesn’t make sense.
Unless his company is in worse shape than he let on? Maybe that’s why he wanted this sale. He just wants to get rid of his company before it goes under.
Another voice gets louder at the back of my mind. I ignore it, but it keeps saying the same thing over and over.
What if Naomi was telling the truth?
There are so many things that don’t make sense. My parents pushing for the marriage, her initial refusal. Her mother’s illness, her own financial troubles.
None of those things would be here if this was some master plan on the part of her father!
I shut the file, chucking it onto the couch and running my fingers through my hair. The sting of betrayal is raw in my chest. It feels exactly like it did when Farrah left me after my injury.
The ground has fallen away from under me, exactly how it did when I lost my football career, my girlfriend, and my entire future.
Once again, I’m a ship without rudder, being tossed around in the storm. I’m just hanging on for dear life.
And the only thing I can think of is Naomi. Her laugh, her eyes, her touch. The taste of her, the smell of her. The way she made me laugh, and the way my apartment felt like home whenever she was here.
She made me better.
She made me happy.
And now she’s gone. I want to believe that she betrayed me. The black hole in my heart wants to believe that she’s just like the rest of them.
But is she?
I pull on a tee-shirt and jeans and throw on a jacket. I grab the file, shuffling through it for Jerry Irving’s address. I need to talk to him. I need to hear it from his mouth, and look him in the eye when he denies it.
Man to man.
I ignore the voice that tells me Naomi’s innocent in all this, and I focus on the burning anger in my chest. That’s the only way I’ll get to the bottom of this. I need to ignore my weaknesses, and focus on the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
Right now, seething, hot anger is giving me more strength than the thought that I’ve just lost the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.
I jump in my black Mercedes and punch in Jerry’s office into my GPS. I glance at the clock—it’s not even 7am yet. I sigh.
I need to go. I need to get out of my apartment and I need to get to the bottom of this. I put the car in gear and follow the GPS’s metallic voice as she guides me through the streets. When I find the office building, I do a lap around the block and find somewhere to park.
The streets are still quiet. I take a deep breath and step out of my car. I spot a cafe near the entrance to the office building and check my watch.
Just after 7am.
I get myself a coffee, finding a seat near the window. My knee bounces up and down as I wait. I sip my coffee slowly, never taking my eyes off the entrance to Jerry’s building.
It’s nearly quarter to eight before I see Jerry walk in. He checks his watch as he steps into the revolving door. I watch him disappear and my heart rate jumps.
My coffee is cold, but I still sit there for a few minutes and take another sip. It tastes bitter and burnt, but I hadn’t noticed until now. The coffee shop is busier than it was when I walked in, with men and women in suits bustling in and out constantly.
I feel out of place in my old tee-shirt and unshaven face. I’m sure my face shows how little I slept last night, but none of that matters.
I take a deep breath. I’m not going to get any answers sitting here.
I chuck the rest of my cold coffee into the trash and walk towards the office building. The revolving doors suck me in, and I scan the wall for Jerry’s company’s name.
Irving, Co. Ltd. is on the seventeenth floor. I press the elevator button and glance over at the suit standing next to me. He’s holding a coffee mug in one hand, and glances at an expensive watch on the other. The elevator dings open, and we step in together.
He looks me up and down before staring at his phone. I watch him scroll through dozens of emails as he tries his best to ignore me. He gets off on the twelfth floor, and I take a deep breath as I lean against the wall. It’s unbearable to be so close to someone who looks that put together when I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. When the doors open on the seventeenth floor, I’m greeted by a sleek glass partition and an all-white reception desk. I walk towards the pretty blonde receptionist and clear my throat.
“I’m here to see Jerry Irving.”
“Is he expecting you?” She asks, looking me up and down.
“Just tell him Max Westbrook is here to see him.” Her eyes widen slightly at my name, and she nods. She presses a few buttons on the phone and mutters into it, hanging it up and nodding to me.
“Follow me, please.”
My heart thumps as we make our way down the hallway. It’s lined with more glass offices and conference rooms. Nowhere to hide in Jerry’s company. That’s ironic, considering what he’s just put Naomi up to.
Finally, at the far end of the building, the receptionist gestures to a door. The blinds are drawn and I can’t see inside.
“Thanks,” I say.
“He said to go on in.”
I nod. She hovers for a moment, and then walks away. With a deep breath, I push open the door and step through.
Jerry’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees me. I wish I’d worn a suit, or at least shaved this morning. I must look like hell.
“Max,” he says, extending his hand. “To what do I owe the honor?”
I shake his hand and drop it as soon as I can. I resist the urge to wipe my hand on my pants. He gestures for me to sit. I lower myself stiffly as he does, his wide oak desk separating us.
“I’m here to talk about your daughter,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up and then draw together. He opens his mouth and shakes his head slightly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your daughter, Naomi.”
He clears his throat, staring at me. He glances down at my clothing once more, and his eyes fill with concern. “You must be mistaken, Max. I don’t have a daughter.”
Alarm bells start ringing in my head. What does he mean, he doesn’t have a daughter? The voice at the back of my mind is screaming at me—she was telling the truth.
But I’m not ready to believe it. He’s bluffing.
“Cut the shit, Jerry. I know you set me up with her.”
Jerry leans forward, splaying his hands on his desk.
“Max,” he says. “I’m sorry, you’ve been misinformed. I don’t have any kids.”
Chapter 32 - Naomi
I wake up on Meg’s couch with swollen eyes and stiff limbs. I sigh, turning my head towards the window and squinting at the light. Meg is in the kitchen singing to herself. The sme
ll of coffee wafts towards me, and I sit up like a groundhog poking its head out of its hole.
“Morning, sunshine,” she says. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I groan. It feels like I’ve been hit by a bus. I push myself off the couch and accept the steaming mug she hands me.
I slide into a kitchen chair and sigh.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m supposed to have a physio appointment with Max today,” I say.
She scoffs. “You think he’ll show up?”
I laugh. “Not likely.”
“That’s the worst part of this whole thing. He was a good client. He was making good progress. Julia was talking about getting him to do a testimonial for the website. Big name client and all that.”
“Well, I fucked that up, didn’t I?”
She turns towards me, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t fuck anything up. You acted exactly how anyone would have, and then you were blindsided. Don’t ever say that this is your fault.”
I nod. “I might take a shower and then we can head to work, yeah?”
Meg smiles and nods. “Sure.”
Julia looks at me when I walk in and gives me a pitying look that makes my stomach turn. I wonder how many people will look at me like that when they find out about me and Max? How many tabloid articles will talk about our split?
I never considered any of that when I agreed to pretend to be his fiancée.
“What’s wrong, Naomi?” She asks, pulling me aside. “Is everything okay with your mom?”
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“You can take the day off if you need to,” she says. She seems to have softened as a boss ever since she got engaged. Maybe love does that to a person—makes them soft. It sure did it to me.
I smile sadly. “As tempting as that is, I think I’d actually rather work.”
“Okay. You’ll tell me if you need anything?”
The way she’s looking at me makes me want to punch something. Meg glances at me from the kitchen. She’s pouring two cups of coffee, and all I want to do is smash the mug into a wall and scream into a pillow.
But I don’t. I accept the coffee with a nod, and slink away to the furthest corner of the office.
All morning, I watch the clock.
Max’s appointment is scheduled for 11am. I have three clients between now and then, and I try my best to give them my undivided attention.
But all the while, the time is marching onwards, closer and closer to 11 o’clock.
“You okay, Naomi?” My long-time client, Daniel asks me. He came to me after a hip replacement surgery eight months ago. “You seem distracted.”
I force a smile. “I’m fine, Daniel. Sorry about that. Now, let’s get you over here on the exercise ball.”
With renewed energy, I focus on my client. Once Daniel leaves, I’m once again staring at the clock. No clients from now until 11 o’clock—just a bit of paperwork to do. I slide behind my desk and write notes from the morning’s appointments, pointedly ignoring the clock.
My heart starts beating faster when I raise my head and see it’s almost time.
Is he going to show up?
Do I want him to show up?
The seconds tick by, and finally the clock strikes eleven. I glance at the door, palms sweaty and heart bouncing off my ribcage.
Nothing.
No movement. No Max.
I let out a sigh so loud that Meg looks over. She sees me glance away from the door, and gives me a sad smile. I wish she wouldn’t pity me like that.
“Were you hoping he’d show up?”
“I don’t know,” I respond. “I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time. Is that possible?”
“You feel how you feel. It’s all valid.”
“This situation is so fucked up. I was so stupid to think that it would work out. What did I expect?”
“You made the best decisions with the hand you were dealt, Naomi,” Meg says gently. “Look at this way, if you hadn’t, your mother probably would have lost the house. She might not be getting the care she needs. You’d be in worse shape if that happened than because of some guy.”
I know she’s right, but her words sting. Max doesn’t feel like ‘some guy’. He doesn’t feel like the kind of guy that’s just a one-month fling. He doesn’t feel like the kind of guy that I’ll end up laughing about in a couple month’s time.
It felt like love. It felt like a love stronger than I’d ever felt before. It felt so real, it’s hard to imagine that it wasn’t.
But here I am, staring at the clock and waiting for a man that I already know won’t show up. Why would he? And after how he spoke to me last night, why would I want him to?
Am I that pathetic that I still want to see him, even though he accused me of setting him up and doing all of this for some stupid merger? He’s the one who was so scared of getting fired from his daddy’s little company that he came up with an elaborate plan to pretend to be engaged to me!
I shouldn’t be upset about him.
I should be happy that I dodged a bullet. No, I didn’t dodge a bullet. I dodged a fucking rocket.
I glance at the door one more time and then force myself to look away. I push my chair back, marching to Julia’s office.
“Julia,” I say as I poke my head in. “I think I’m going to take you up on that offer of the day off. I need to go home and be with my mom.”
“Of course, Naomi,” she says. “I’ll cover your afternoon clients.”
“I only have two appointments—my notes are on top of my desk.”
She nods, and I slip out the door. I wave to Meg, who gives me a tight-lipped smile. I push the door open and fly down the stairs towards my car.
I know one thing: I need answers.
Mid-morning traffic isn’t bad, so I make it home in decent time. When I race the steps up to my apartment, my heart is pounding. Running up a couple flights of stairs while you’re panicking about your long-lost father and your failed fake engagement will do that to a person. Apparently.
“Mom?” I call out as I unlock the door.
“In here, honey,” she says from the bedroom. I drop my bag and head towards her voice. The blinds are drawn. Her frail body hardly forms a lump under the covers and my breath catches in my throat.
The anger and frustration that was burning a hole in my chest dissipates, and I sit on the edge of the bed gently. My mother’s eyes flutter open and she tries to smile at me.
“How’s the nausea today?”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” she lies. “I’m fine. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I took the day off.”
“Are you okay? You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
She chuckles, patting my hand. Her chuckle turns to a cough and she tries to sit up. I fluff her pillows and help her up.
“Have you eaten?”
“I had some toast this morning,” she says. She gestures to the nightstand, and I see half a piece of toast. ‘Some toast’ meant half a slice with a bit of butter on it—hardly enough sustenance for a grown woman.
I nod. Suddenly, I’m tongue tied. I thought I would barge in here and demand answers, but what am I supposed to say?
My mother takes a deep breath, her eyes boring into me with a look that only mothers can give.
“Something happened between you and Max, didn’t it?”
I snort bitterly. “How did you know?”
Tears well in my eyes and I shake my head.
“Who is my father, mom?”
“What?”
“I need to know. Who is he? How come you never told me?”
My mother sighs, staring towards the closed blinds and blinking back tears. She squeezes my fingers and then swings her head back towards me.
“I was scared, Naomi.”
“Of what?”
“That you’d find him, and I’d have to see him again.”
“What, why? Wh
at happened? Did he… did he do anything to you?” My voice is strangled. I’m so close to getting the answers I need. So close to finding out where I came from. So close to knowing why Max was so angry this morning.
My mom just sighs, squeezing my fingers again.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” She looks at me and smiles sadly. “There’s no chemotherapy for a broken heart, honey.”
Chapter 33 - Max
“What do you mean, you don’t have a daughter? What about this?!”
I slam the folder on his desk, sitting back in my chair and waiting for his answer. He stares at me with dark eyes, and I search his face for any resemblance between him and his supposed daughter.
She has her mother’s eyes, and her mother’s lips. His nose, maybe?
He reaches forward and flips the folder open, glancing at it curiously. His eyebrows shoot up and then he looks at me.
“Private investigator?”
“It was my parents. They did it without my permission. But I’m glad they did, otherwise I never would have known what you two were up to.”
His eyebrows stay raised and he glances back down at the folder.
“Naomi Rose,” he muses. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head. My eyes widen—I’ve seen that movement before. Naomi does it anytime she’s lost in thought.
My heart starts hammering and a lump forms in my throat.
It’s true, then!
She lied to me. I’m simultaneously relieved and crushed. I can’t speak.
Jerry flicks the first page over and his eyes widen.
“Jacqueline Rose?”
“Her mother.”
“Her mother is Jacqueline Rose?” He inhales sharply, his whole body stiffening. He flicks through more pages, scanning the paperwork with almost panicked interest. Suddenly, I want it back. It seems so intrusive to have him reading all these things about Naomi.
Maybe this was a mistake.
“She’s twenty-nine,” he says to himself. “Oh my god…”
“What?”
“I just… I need to meet this woman. Where is Jackie? And Naomi? Holy shit.” He stands up, grabbing his jacket.
Then he sits down, putting his hand to his forehead and staring at the center of his desk. He picks up the phone and then hangs it up again.
Engaged to Mr. Right: A Fake Marriage Romance (Mr. Right Series Book 1) Page 14
