Grace's Fake Groom

by Francesca Lane

  “I’m perfect. Don’t worry. I’m glad you didn’t get tossed out of here.” He didn’t have to know that she threw in Mick’s job as a condition of her agreement to play Chase’s fiancée. Nor that she and Chase agreed it would look better if she wasn’t actually an employee of the firm during this little charade.

  “Well, then, good luck.” He hesitated before leaving the office, holding the door with one hand. “Grace?”

  “Yes?”

  “I meant what I said earlier.”

  “Which was?”

  He blew out a breath, as if exasperated. “That I wouldn’t want that guy dating my sisters.” Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

  Grace rolled her eyes. Mick did not understand just how close they both were to getting the ax, and really, this outcome, strange as it was, turned out perfectly. She neither cared to date Chase nor marry him. Shoot, the thought of marrying anyone before her career gained traction was as attractive as men in three-quarter-length pants.

  Best of all, she and Chase were strangers to each other, so there was no chance of any kind of romance. Though she may have been too busy to keep up with gossip surrounding her “fiancé,” she had learned enough in the past few hours to know that she would never—ever—allow herself to give a playboy anything as complicated as her heart.

  Three

  If Grace did not fully understand the gravity of her financial situation, she may have thought she was living a fairy tale. She knew her way around the shoe department of her favorite mall. And on occasion she liked to splurge on a Michael Kors bag.

  But this.

  This … dress.

  She turned around, arching slightly to view the low lunge of the dress’s back in her stateroom mirror, its satiny cream fabric hugging her waist. Swoon! Who knew that an eighty-year-old’s birthday party would require such formal wear?

  The past few days had sped by with too many errands to count. She’d shopped for cruise wear, both formal and not—thankfully on Chase’s dime. She’d also packed, found a neighbor to take care of her puppy, and met Chase to pick up a marriage license.

  That last errand gave her pause.

  “Why do we need that if it’s a fake relationship?” she’d asked Chase.

  “You don’t know my father.” He’d looked at her almost grimly. “The man’s a stickler. Always has been. I want to have it should he challenge us in some way. It’ll expire in ninety days.”

  She took another peek at herself in the mirror. They’d checked into the suite as a “happy” couple and then promptly retreated to their own corners. Hers had a window to the outside that she gazed out of liberally, and with her door closed to the other end of the suite, she might as well have been alone.

  Grace sighed, stepped into her silver slides, and picked up her shimmery clutch. She pushed aside reminders of her life at home, with its growing piles of bills and uncertain future, including her parents’ suffocating requirements regarding their Last Will and Testament. She rehearsed what she’d been told about the night ahead and waited for Chase.

  The knock on her door caused her to catch her breath. “It’s showtime,” she whispered.

  Slowly, the door opened and Chase peeked in. The smile on his face froze.

  Grace slid a look at the mirror and then back to Chase. “Is everything all right? Is this dress okay?”

  He closed his mouth and the lines in his forehead flattened out. He stepped inside. “Yes, of course. The dress is … beautiful.”

  She huffed out a sigh and laughed. “Well, get in here then. You had me worried.”

  He stepped inside, his posture stiff. She took in the shine of his black tux. He’d chosen to wear a black shirt instead of the customary white. “You’re staring,” he said.

  “Not really.” She shrugged. “Ready to go?”

  He pursed his lips in a way that she was beginning to interpret as unsure but plowing through anyway. He offered her his arm. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  When they entered the ballroom, a blast of cool air lifted tendrils of her blonde hair from her shoulders. She gasped. Golden lights illuminated the stairway. She tightened her grip on the crook of Chase’s arm as he led her down the grand staircase and into the ballroom. A sea of finely dressed guests parted, admiring them with a smile. She caught more than one nod gently sent Chase’s way.

  The crowd leaned heavily in the octogenarian range, though plenty of thirty- and forty-somethings did their best to balance things out. Chase had explained that the room would mostly be attended by other lawyers, a judge or two, and some longtime clients. Apparently they did not have many family members in attendance.

  Chase stopped. She glanced at him, noting a sudden falter of a smile. She followed his line of vision to a slightly stooped, white-haired man rising from a table abutting the dance floor. A woman in a flowing seafoam-green dress stood next to him, beaming.

  Chase brushed her hand with his fingers, took her hand, and guided her toward the elderly gentleman with the sparkle in his eyes.

  “Grace, I’d like you to meet our guest of honor. This is my father, Timothy Ryan.”

  The man took her hand and kissed it. “You are even more beautiful than my son told me.”

  “Happy birthday, Mr. Ryan.”

  He continued to hold her hand, his gaze holding hers. “Please, call me Dad.”

  She stilled. Grace had been floating, swept away by the pretty clothes and impressive venue, the azure seas and the promise of obligations met for the foreseeable future. It had not occurred to her that her fairy tale might actually be someone else’s real life—and that she would soon take part in dismantling their … role-playing.

  Chase cleared his throat and she startled.

  She smiled at Chase’s father. “I hope you enjoy every minute of your celebration … Dad.”

  Lights flashed. Photographers abounded inside, the lights from their cameras causing snippets of the crowd to ebb and flow in her sight. Who knew Chase Ryan’s father was so connected?

  Timothy pulled his son close and whispered something in his ear. Chase watched her the entire time his father spoke, his brows reflecting a flittering of different emotions.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  Chase did not answer her at first. A dour look had settled on his face, but then he quickly erased it. He offered her his arm. “He would like us to dance.”

  She nodded. “I would love to. That is, of course, if you know how.”

  He shrank back in fake offense. “I did not spend all those years in cotillion for nothing.”

  “The fox-trot it is.”

  He laughed now and she noticed the heartiness of it. Chase led her to the dance floor. He cupped her left shoulder blade with his right hand and cinched her to him. The formality of it all made her want to giggle, but she followed suit. Despite her lack of formal dance training, Grace had attended enough weddings in her lifetime to be able to go along with it.

  They moved around the dance floor, stiffly, making small talk. Pleasantries. Meaningless conversation, really. More than once Grace caught Chase’s gaze darting around the room.

  “How do you think it’s going so far?” she asked.

  He blinked and caught her with a look. “Sorry?”

  “Your father seems pleased.”

  “Yes, yes, he does.”

  His gaze traveled elsewhere again.

  “Anything I should know about?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your mind is somewhere else, which is fine, of course. But if there’s something I should be aware of, I hope you’ll share it with me.”

  Chase wrinkled that space between his eyes again, pouring his attention back on her. “Does that mind of yours ever stop?”

  “Sadly, no. Makes sleep difficult.”

  He closed his mouth at her proclamation, but continued to watch her. Goose bumps alighted on her skin and a slight shiver overtook her.

  “Cold?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but instead l
oosened his stance and pulled her even closer. The warmth of his touch on her bare arm caused a flutter of something unexpected within her.

  Chase leaned close, his lips grazing her ear. “Peter Mayer is approaching us. He may cut in.”

  She shrank back. “The toy magnate?”

  Chase nodded, pressing his lips together as he kept his gaze focused somewhere over her shoulder. “Educational toys. Our biggest client and one that I intend to keep.”

  Must be one of the important clients he’d mentioned. Maybe even the most important client …

  A man’s voice broke her concentration. “Chase, may I dance with your beautiful date?”

  Chase let go of her and delivered her into the arms of another man. Like chattel.

  “Peter! Great to see you. I’d like you to meet Grace Morelli.” He glanced at her, his eyes pleading with her. “Grace, Peter Mayer is the CEO of Mayer’s Educational Toys and Games.”

  She lifted her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Mayer.”

  He grinned widely. “Please, it’s Peter.” To his credit, he lifted both arms in a wide embrace but didn’t touch her. “May I?”

  As they twirled around the floor, Peter said, “You are a miracle worker, I hear. I was so pleased to learn of your engagement to Chase.” He leaned closer. “You really have saved the day.”

  She quirked her head to the side. “You are kind to say so, but I don’t believe my presence is any sort of miracle.”

  “Oh but it is!” He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “Poor Timothy is getting slower these days. Well, many of us are, I’d say. But he has been my representation for many years—you do know that we create hundreds of family-friendly education products, don’t you?”

  She didn’t, but she also did not let on. “Toys and games, yes.”

  He smiled. “It has always been my contention that we be represented by the finest individuals, whether it be accountants, public relations, and, of course, attorneys.”

  “How lovely that Ryan & Ryan has represented your interests so well for so long.”

  “Hm. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “You must know that Kate Little has been in touch with my office.”

  Alarm raised the peach fuzz on her neck. She steadied her expression “I’m sure there were some loose ends she intended to sew up.”

  He chuckled. “You are diplomatic. As I mentioned, poor ol’ Timothy has essentially turned the reins to your Chase, and I was beginning to wonder how long our partnership could last.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Both of his eyes widened. “I am not a judgmental man, but Chase’s reputation as a ladies’ man—I am putting that politely—well, that is not exactly the sort of collaboration that we are most comfortable with putting forward.”

  “I see.”

  He smiled kindly. “Forgive me. Where are my manners? Of course, this point is moot now because, plainly, I can see that you have tamed Chase’s wild ways. You know, there is nothing like marriage and family to change a person’s stripes, eh?”

  A trickle of sweat dripped down Grace’s bare back. She longed for a glass of water to stem her body’s slowly rising temperature. “Will you excuse me?” she said, letting go of Peter’s hand. “Thank you for the dance.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  She turned, glad that she was able to get away before her hands did that slimy thing they liked to do when stress reared its despicable head. With her eyes on the prize of the ladies restroom, Grace darted forward, but a hand at her elbow stopped her.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  She spun around at the sound of Timothy’s voice. “Hello, Dad.”

  He blinked and frowned. “Dad?”

  Grace reached for his hand, a slight laugh in her voice. “Maybe you were kidding when you asked me to call you that.”

  He licked his lips, nodding, his eyes unfocused on her. He leaned forward. “Who are you?”

  She knit her brows together. “I’m Grace—Chase’s, uh, fiancée.”

  Timothy’s face split into a wide smile and he began to pump her hand. “That is exceptional news! Oh my, yes, spectacular news!”

  Chase approached. “Dad? Grace?”

  Timothy turned around. “Hello, Chris! I was just enjoying your lady here.”

  “Hi, Chase,” Grace said.

  Timothy put his palm onto his temple. “Chase—not Chris. I am sorry, son.” He exhaled robustly. “All this frivolity has my mind in a scramble.”

  Chase put an arm around his father. “Why don’t you and I go have a seat at the table.” He turned his chin to Grace. “It looks like you were headed to, uh …”

  “The ladies room.”

  “Right. Well, find us when you return. I believe they are about to serve dinner.”

  Grace nodded at Chase and squeezed Timothy’s wrist. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

  Inside the restroom, she turned on the cold water spigot at the sink and allowed her hands to cool, her thoughts a jumble. First Mick, then Peter Mayer had specifically warned her about Chase’s bad boy past. Now Timothy didn’t seem to recall that she and his son were together at all.

  Probably was too much of a rare occurrence in his eyes …

  Not that it mattered to her all that much. This weekend would be over soon enough and she would no longer need to pretend to be marrying Chase. At least not publicly. Sure, the engagement would have to continue for a time, but other than this cruise, Grace had not made any other commitments to appear as anyone other than herself.

  The scent of White Shoulders wafted beneath her nostrils. The woman who had been standing next to Timothy when she’d first met him stepped up to the sink and smiled at Grace in the mirror. “Oh, it’s you!” she said.

  “Hello again,” Grace said. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Grace.”

  The woman’s rose-tinged cheeks shone. “I know exactly who you are, dear. You have made quite the impression already.”

  Grace’s cheeks grew warm. “That’s kind of you to say.” She glanced at the woman’s left hand and noted the absence of a ring. Chase had clammed up when she’d asked about his mother, saying only that she would not be in attendance. She surmised that Amelia was Timothy’s date, though it would have been nice to be sure about that before she said anything.

  The woman towel-dried her hands. “Well, you enjoy yourself, you hear?”

  “Thank you. I plan to do just that.” She hesitated.

  “Did you want to say something before I go?”

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  “My name is Amelia.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Grace dried her hand on one of the supple towels in a box on the sink. “Well, I hope you and Timothy enjoy yourselves.”

  Amelia chuckled. “We will if he follows my instructions!”

  Grace smiled. “Have you been together a long time?”

  The woman gasped a little. “Oh, my, yes. But you don’t think we’re lovers now, do you?”

  She wouldn’t have put it that way, no. “I didn’t mean to pry,” Grace said. “You are his date, though, right?”

  Amelia’s smile turned slightly sad. “I guess you could say that—I am his caregiver.”

  “Oh.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “I, uh, no. I only met Mr. Ryan tonight.”

  Amelia nodded. She cleaned wet spots off the sink with her used towel and then discarded it into the waste can. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t mention to Chase that I overstepped—you won’t, will you?”

  She shook her head, a few tendrils of hair brushing her shoulders. “Consider my mouth closed.”

  Amelia smiled at her appraisingly and nodded. “You really are a welcome addition to the family.”

  Grace stayed behind as Amelia walked out of the restroom. Secrets, it seemed, were the underlying theme of this grand shindig, but how could she not agree to keep Amelia’s when she was carrying around one of her
own?

  Grace took a seat beside Chase. He leaned toward her. “I took the liberty of ordering you a glass of white wine, but if you would prefer something else, I’ll see to it.”

  “This is perfect.” She took the glass from him and gave him an air “cheers.”

  He peered at her. “You okay?”

  She sipped more of her wine. “Are you aware that Kate has been in touch with Peter about his business?”

  His jaw hardened. “He said that?”

  “Yes. If it helps, he seemed satisfied that you had, um, changed your bad boy ways.”

  “Glad to know it.” He pushed away from the table and draped his napkin on the back of a chair. Grace watched as he stepped up to the band and borrowed a microphone, fervently hoping he wasn’t planning to call out his top client in public.

  When the music fell away, he began to speak. “As many of you know, I’m Chase Ryan, and I’d like to welcome you all. My father is a friend to many, but he’s always just been Dad to me.” He paused.

  Was that emotion tugging at the corners of his mouth?

  His voice faltered. “If you would all raise your glasses, I’d like to lead us in a toast.” Chase pressed his lips together and let his gaze sweep across the room before landing on his father. “To Timothy Ryan, the smartest, most noble, bad-ass lawyer on this earth. You’re my hero. Happy Birthday!” He raised his glass to a chorus of “hear hears” followed by thunderous applause.

  A full-of-heart speech was the last thing Grace had expected. She turned her chin slightly and glanced at him. His eyes greeted her, a mixture of that emotion she had seen and perhaps something a little more fiery. She turned away when a server set a lavish plate of food in front of her.

  They dined on the most exquisite lobster and filet mignon that Grace had feasted on, probably ever. It wasn’t that her family lacked for anything growing up, but her parents weren’t keen on indulging much of their hard-earned money on high-brow food. To that end, her mother tended a large garden no matter where they lived, and she used it to feed them vegetarian meals until well into their teen years.