Fake Bride: A Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (Forbidden First Times Book 2)

by Summers, Sofia T

  “Can’t a man smile on a beautiful morning?”

  “It’s snowing outside and it’s freezing. You’re smiling because you want to know what’s going on between Laird and me.”

  Red whistled with an innocent expression on his face, and I just rolled my eyes. If he knew the full truth, he wouldn’t be so eager to throw me into a new relationship. I knew that I shouldn’t be so eager to throw myself into a new relationship, either. I should be relishing being single, I should be taking my time just being on myself, by myself, with myself. And I did appreciate the freedom, the independence. I liked it. I liked not being beholden to anyone.

  And yet… I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like to date Laird, or someone like him. Someone who was so kind, who took time out of his day for me, who was soft and thoughtful. So unlike Pete. I couldn’t shake the memory of his warmth up against my side, of his arm offered out to me, of the way he would smile gently down at me.

  If I was already this far gone, I couldn’t imagine what I would feel like in a few weeks. This was a dangerous game I was playing. But how could I back out? How could I let him down like that—or deprive myself of money I desperately needed?

  The morning rush was its usual, and I was too busy to run myself ragged thinking about Laird and what it all meant. But then my lunch break came, and Red was standing right there with me grinning up a storm as Laird entered.

  “You all good?” he asked.

  “Oh, she’s definitely good,” Red cut in before I could answer. “Take all the time you need, Trudie.”

  I glared at him and hoped he got my silent message that I was going to drown him in coffee the moment I got the chance. Red, the traitor, just waved.

  Laird had boxes of to-go food in his hands, I realized, as I stepped out from behind the counter and took off my apron. I couldn’t tell what it was but it smelled delicious, and my stomach rumbled. “Thank you, you didn’t have to buy me anything.”

  “Hey, like I said, I like to spoil people,” Laird replied, his Irish brogue falling smoothly across my ears. I wanted to wrap myself in his voice like it was a blanket. “Shall we?”

  We got to the elevator and took it up in silence—but it was a comfortable silence. I’d noticed that at the pizzeria, too. I liked that there was someone that I could just exist with. Pete was always loud and taking up space, and when he was silent it was because he was angry with me and I had to watch out. Pete’s silences were weapons and they terrified me. But not Laird’s. With Laird it was just… nice.

  “I was thinking we could eat in my office, if that’s all right?” he asked as we got off the elevator.

  “Sure, no problem.” I didn’t mind where we ate, so long as it was warm and it had good food. Laird grinned at me and led me into his office, but not to his desk—to the far end where a small seating area with couches had been set up. I had barely noticed that last time, as I’d taken in how huge Laird’s office was.

  Sitting down on the couch, I couldn’t help but realize that Laird’s office was bigger than my own little space at the co-op. Far bigger. In fact this office was the size of the entire room that all of us women shared at the co-op. God, was I deluding myself thinking that I could pull this off? That we could make it work as a fake couple?

  Laird started to open the food, and my mouth watered. “This all smells amazing.”

  “I’m glad. I hope you like it. I haven’t had good Greek food in a while.” He paused. “Okay, so I’m a snob and I haven’t had good Greek food since I was in Greece. It’s just not the same thing.”

  “You went to Greece?” Laird passed me what he said was a gyro, and I bit into it, having to hold back a moan of delight. I was living on ramen, rice, and beans back at the co-op. This was absolutely delicious. I’d never had Greek food before—there wasn’t a Greek place in my town, most places in our town had been Mexican so I was a pretty big expert on that food—and I was loving this.

  “Yeah, my parents took me and my brother when we were teenagers. Ireland’s part of the European Union so we can go wherever in Europe pretty easily. I’ve been to every country, including Russia. My parents were big on travel and exposing us to different cultures. It was amazing.”

  “It sounds amazing. I’ve… I’ve never been out of the United States.”

  “Yeah, but the United States is a huge country. You’ve got so much in here, you’re bigger than all of Europe.”

  That was true, but it wasn’t like I had been spending all this time exploring the fifty states. I had only been in my home state, and then when I was traveling to get away from Pete I wasn’t really thinking about seeing the sights. I got to see a lot, just by nature of traveling, staring out the window of the Greyhound bus and marveling at the nature all around me. But it wasn’t vacation. Not like what Laird had done.

  “I’d like to do more traveling,” Laird went on, “but with someone that I care about. I’ve done a bit for big pieces for the magazine, but it’s not the same. I did this big backpacking trip through South America when I graduated college, it was amazing.”

  I stared at him. “That… that’s great.” Backpacking was less expensive than a lot of other ways to travel or go on vacation but still, not working for months? Not earning money for months? That must have meant that he had a lot of money saved, and money to sustain him while he looked for a job afterwards. Or that he had a job waiting for him when he came back. Either way, that was nothing like what my experience had been.

  “I think Greece was my favorite place, though,” Laird went on. “It was beautiful. Warm, clear water, the islands, the laidback atmosphere… it was truly stunning there. I think you would like it.”

  He smiled at me, and my heart ached. He thought he was giving me something good, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that all he was doing was showing me how we could never truly mesh together, how different our backgrounds and lifestyles were.

  “Um, here, I wrote a list for you.” I held it out to him, before I could change my mind. I wanted to get off the subject of travel.

  Laird accepted the list, smiling softly down at it like he’d been looking forward to reading it. My stomach churned and I felt like I couldn’t eat another bite no matter how hard I tried. I gently set my food aside. I didn’t want to waste it. I supposed I could warm it up again later. But right now, my stomach was in knots. I wasn’t sure I could even swallow.

  Laird was going to read this list and see how I had no life. No history. No personality. And he’d give up on this whole idea and move onto someone else. Someone who could actually be the interesting, wonderful fake wife that he needed to fool his family. And I’d lose out again.

  I braced myself, and waited.

  10

  Laird

  I knew the moment I brought up the traveling that it was a bad idea.

  Trudie went from relaxed and listening to tense and withdrawn. I wasn’t sure if she even realized how much she telegraphed with her body language, even though she didn’t speak a lot. I could read her mood just in the way that her shoulders were set.

  I should’ve been more aware. Trudie was worried about paying for food, and desperately needed money. Hearing about my rich parents taking me all over Europe to give me a ‘proper exposure to other cultures’ sounded so bloody pretentious when I looked at it from Trudie’s perspective. “I haven’t had proper Greek food since Greece”? What kind of wanker did I sound like? I could’ve smacked my head against a brick wall, in awe of my own stupidity.

  Then I looked down and read Trudie’s list.

  She lost her parents, both of them, young. She didn’t finish college. She had no friends, she was all alone. And she was much younger than I’d thought. There was a world-weariness to her that had made me think that we were the same age, both of us in our mid-thirties. Turned out she was only twenty-four. That made a twelve-year age difference between us, my family was going to have a bloody field day with that, making jokes about my robbing the cradle unt
il the sun went down.

  Trudie shifted on her seat, clearly uncomfortable. Ah, fuck. Was she not happy with having to share that family information with me? Had I crossed a line? “Trudie… we don’t ever have to talk about this, about your past, if you don’t want to. Really. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I mean… it’s not so much that, as it is… I… you were just talking about all these things you’ve done with your life, and what have I done?” she gestured at the list in my hand. “It’s sad, really, how little I’ve actually lived.”

  “First of all, you’re only in your mid-twenties. I’ve had an extra decade to get my ducks in a row and go on adventures. Your twenties are a miserable time in your life, I’ll straight up say it. Nobody likes to talk about it but it’s true. You don’t know who you are or what you want and you’re frustrated at every angle. Your twenties are insane. So don’t get all down on yourself about that.

  “Second of all… I don’t care about the difference in our upbringing. All right? I said it before, but the people who know me know that I don’t care about that kind of shit. You’re a good person, Trudie. A lovely person. I was born lucky, I had these great parents and I had this money. I know not everyone gets that and I don’t judge them for it. I think you’re doing great with what you’ve got.”

  Trudie smiled at me, her eyes bright. “You know you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Honestly. This is going to sound awful but most rich people I’ve met are so entitled. But you’re… I don’t really, um, I don’t feel very comfortable with a lot of people. It takes a while for me to feel safe, I guess you could say. But you’re… you’re just a really kind person.”

  The urge to lean in and kiss her hit me like a tidal wave and I felt like I was physically restraining myself from giving in. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before. Someone who just says things like that.”

  Trudie blushed and began to pick at her food again. “Well, I’ve found that… people can be not what they seem. They’re all charming and smiles at first and then they turn out to be awful. Or they’re really great people but they’re scared so they hide behind sarcasm and crankiness. I don’t want to be like that. I want to be honest, and say what I’m thinking, and I hope that… by doing that, people will be more honest with me and I can avoid making mistakes in… trusting the wrong people.”

  There was something heavy and serious in her eyes and I wondered what she’d gone through to give her that knowledge. I thought it was a very mature view of the world, not something I would expect of someone in their early twenties.

  I handed her my list, which I noticed was considerably longer than hers. The wealth and difference in our upbringing didn’t worry me, but the shortness of her list did. Not with my family. They wouldn’t care. I worried about it for Trudie’s sake. What sort of life had she led that she didn’t have many personal details about herself? No hobbies, it seemed. No friends. No crazy stories that I would have heard about if I was her husband.

  Trudie read over my list quietly, nibbling on her food again. That relaxed me. At least she was eating again. She clearly needed the food and I didn’t want nerves to stop her from that.

  “You’re a twin?” Trudie asked, smiling and looking up.

  It was reassuring to see her smile again, if only for a moment. “Yup.”

  “And with the same initials and everything. Laird and Liam.”

  “Ah, yeah. Drove us nuts when we were growing up. Parents will do that sometimes, give all their kids names that start with the same letter. I never understood that. It just leads to confusion.” I gestured at myself. “Especially with my name. Laird. It’s a fine name in Ireland but over here it gets you weird looks.”

  Definitely didn’t help with the whole flirting and talking to women thing.

  “I like it,” Trudie replied. “It stands out. And it rolls off the tongue. I feel like I have to say it in an Irish accent even though I’m not Irish, it just happens.”

  I laughed. “It’s true, I can hear it when people say my name.” I paused, glanced down at her list. There was so much more to Trudie than what this short recounting of her history seemed to imply. I was sure that I could draw more out of her—interests, hobbies, all of it. She wasn’t a blank page. Nobody was. I wanted to see her blossom.

  Trudie smiled as she read through the rest of my life. I took that as a good sign. She wouldn’t do this if she didn’t like me. “I think I can remember all of this,” she said, tucking the list into her pocket and looking up at me. “Please don’t pay me until after, though. I’ve been thinking and… it would only be fair if we wait until the end and make sure that it was really worth it for you.”

  That was generous of her. I had planned to pay her half now, half at the end, that way it was fair to both of us. She couldn’t run off with all the money—not that I really thought that she would, but I had to be smart and logical about this, as much as I could be—and I wouldn’t just dump her at the end with nothing. But if she really didn’t want me to pay her…

  “Are you sure?”

  Trudie nodded. “I… I need the money. I won’t lie. But I also… I don’t want you to feel you have to pay me if you’re frustrated with how the whole thing went. I’d just like some, um, a bit of financial compensation for whatever I spend while I’m there. Not that I’m buying—I won’t go around on a shopping spree, I just meant, food and all of that—and airplane tickets—”

  “I’ve got you covered,” I promised her. “I’ll buy the tickets so that we can sit together and you won’t have to pay for a thing while you’re there. Will you need rent covered?”

  “No, I think I’ll be fine…”

  “Let me know.” I meant it, I wanted her to be taken care of. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything while you’re doing this. It’s no skin off my back.”

  Trudie looked down at her food. “It’s just hard,” she admitted. “I’ve been independent for so long, it’s difficult to let myself lean on others. I never had anyone that I could really trust to help me out.”

  “Trust me, I understand. But I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, so let me spoil you a bit. It’s not even spoiling, it’s fair compensation for your help.”

  “Well, I suppose, when you put it that way.” Trudie winked at me. I loved the sense of dry humor that she showed. I had the feeling that the more she came out of her shell, the more wicked humor that I would get to see from her. I looked forward to it.

  “And we’ll have to spend more time together,” I blurted out before I could second-guess myself. “So that we really do get to know each other as much as we can. I can pretend to be my relatives and ask you questions.”

  “Like practicing for a final exam,” Trudie said. “The weirdest final exam ever.”

  “And the most amusing one. I’m told I do a very good job with imitating my relatives.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. I bet they’re all extremely flattered with how you portray them.”

  “I could give you more tours. There’s plenty of lovely museums and places to go. Movies we could see. Lots of fun little neighborhoods to explore. You want to make this city your own, right?”

  Trudie gave me a shy smile. “I’d like that. I had a lot of fun last time.”

  “Then we can do this weekend again? You’re free on Sundays, right?”

  “Yup, all day.”

  “Great.” I found myself just staring at her smiling like a dope.

  Trudie’s phone went off and I jumped a little, startled out of my reverie as I’d stared at her. Was that really how I’d been staring at her? Just lost to everything except her?

  I was in serious trouble.

  Trudie grimaced down at her phone, silencing her alarm. “I’m sorry, but my break’s over, I have to go back to work.”

  “No problem. Feel free to take the leftovers.”

  She didn’t protest this time, instead scooping them up and thanking me. I watched her l
eave and wondered at how all the energy in the room seemed to go with her. My office had felt so cozy a moment ago, and now it felt too large and empty.

  Don’t lose your focus, I coached myself. Just get through the wedding.

  I was starting to wonder, though, if by the time we got to the wedding I wouldn’t find myself wishing that Trudie and I were together for real.

  11

  Trudie

  The wedding day was fast approaching, and I was freaking out about it.

  The last few weeks had been—they had been like something out of a dream. And not an impossible fairytale kind of dream where it’s all like a Hollywood movie and you knew it was all too good to be true. More like a cozy, happy dream that left you feeling a bit sad when you woke up because you knew your life could be like that dream if only a few things were different.

  Laird was… he was wonderful. I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to show me another side of himself. Not that I thought, consciously at least, that Laird would turn out to be an asshole. But I couldn’t quite shake that fear. It felt ingrained in me. I looked forward to the day when it wasn’t natural to me anymore, when I didn’t worry about when the charming man that I was speaking to would turn out to be awful.

  But the days kept going by and Laird kept being wonderful. He was a bit of a dork, a bit awkward at times, but I didn’t mind that. I thought it was cute, honestly. It showed me that he was earnest in whatever it was that he was saying. And he wasn’t what you would expect the rich, successful, handsome owner of a huge company to be like. He didn’t want to take me out to parties or things like that. If he went out to clubs and such on his own, when he wasn’t with me, he never mentioned them—but I didn’t think that he did. That didn’t seem to be his thing. Instead he was eager to take me to historical sites, and to cozy little hole in the wall places to eat, and to museums.

  He loved art. I didn’t know much about it, honestly. I felt woefully uneducated. But Laird didn’t seem to mind. In fact he seemed eager to share his knowledge with me, telling me all about the art, and the artists, and the historical context, everything from the brushstrokes to the artist’s personal life.