Possessive Fake Husband

by B. B. Hamel

  Dad stands there, shell-shocked, but I’m staring at Josh.

  He sounds sincere. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s absolutely gorgeous.

  “You’re right,” I say. “It’s a shitty thing to do.”

  “But it doesn’t change the fact that our marriage could help us both,” he says. “Look, your father’s company is important, and so is mine. We service a lot of folks that can’t afford the big companies. And I’m not going to pretend like this is all altruism, either. If we can bring Cork and Bushings together, we can create something lasting for both of our families, something stronger.”

  “But we don’t do that sort of thing anymore,” I say. “We’re not… we don’t live in the Dark Ages. This isn’t ancient Rome.”

  “No,” he agrees, “but why do we think we’re so much better than that? Marriage has always been a tool. We can use it as one now. I promise, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, and when this merger is over, we can get a divorce. It’ll only be for show, only to convince my board.”

  Dad shifts from foot to foot. “I’ll let you two talk,” he says, moving toward the door.

  “Dad,” I say.

  “Let him go,” Josh says. “He’s uncomfortable. And we have a lot to talk about.” His eyes stare into mine and for a long moment, I’m held transfixed, unable to look away.

  Dad slips out the door and disappears.

  Josh pours himself a drink and walks over. He leaves his glass of wine on the sideboard and sits in the chair next to mine.

  “I know this is a lot,” he says.

  “Imagine if you were me,” I say. “Imagine if your dad was trying to sell you to his rivals.”

  “You’re not getting sold,” he says, shaking his head. “Come on. That’s going too far.”

  “Fine. Imagine he’s trying to use you as a tool in his business.”

  “Okay, that’s more accurate. But look, we’re talking to you about it now.”

  “Great. I’m not doing it.”

  He shrugs. “Fine.”

  I stare at him. He sips his whiskey and smiles at me, not saying anything. I sit there, bare feet, the ice melting in my wine, and I want to scream.

  “Fine?” I ask. “That’s it? Your whole plan is going to fall apart now.”

  “Not exactly,” he says with a shrug. “I mean, we can try and find some other way to convince my board. We don’t have much of a shot now, but whatever. We’ll figure it out or die trying.”

  I sit there and stare at him. “You’re serious about all this,” I say. “Both your companies are going to go under?”

  “I’m very serious,” he says. “I took over Cork after my father passed last year, and from what I’ve seen since then, we have five years, six if your father’s company goes under sooner rather than later.”

  “And Dad is really going under too?”

  “So he says.” Josh shrugs. “I haven’t seen his financials. But I suspect they’re similar to mine.”

  “If all that’s why, why would your board want a merger? It sounds like it’ll save a lot of jobs and make a lot of money.”

  He laughs and swirls his drink. I clenched the heavily padded arms of my chair and take a deep breath of leather and shoe polish. “They’re old men,” Josh says. “They think this company is done for already. Half of them are getting ready to sell their shares and bail entirely. They don’t want to save the company. They just want to make a short-term sale and get out.”

  “And what about my dad?” I ask. “Does he have any other recourse?”

  “Not that I know of. Maybe he can try and make a deal with Brothers Phones or VailCom, but I really doubt that would even help. We’re the last two with any chance at competing with the big guys, but if we don’t merge, we’re finished.”

  I let that sink in. My father took over Bushings from his father forty years ago, back when it manufactured computer parts. He took it from a manufacturing company and turned it into a telecom. That company’s been a part of my life since the day I was born, and I always thought it would outlive him.

  I can’t imagine what he’s feeling about this. Merging with another company must be so painful for him, but the idea of losing it must be even worse.

  And then there’s me. I know he wouldn’t do this if he weren’t desperate. He’s never asked me for anything in my life. He’s only ever given, given me everything I’ve ever wanted and more.

  “So we need to get married,” I say.

  “That’s the gist of it. We get married and convince my board that we’re for real, then hopefully we can pull this merger off.”

  “That’s a lot of uncertainty.” I frown. “What if we can’t do it?”

  “I think we can.” He tilts his head and looks me over. “I’m pretty sure I can pretend to like you.”

  I feel myself blush. I can’t believe it, but the way he looks at me actually makes me heart beat faster. “I’m not so sure I could do the same,” I say.

  He laughs. “Let’s try. Come on, what do you have to lose?”

  “I want something,” I say. “Something in return.”

  He sips his whiskey and nods at me. “What?” he asks.

  “I want… a stake. In the new company.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten percent.”

  He snorts. “No, absolutely not. Try three percent.”

  “I’ll take seven. And nothing less.” I move forward and put my shoes back on. He watches me, his eyes moving down my dress, lingering on my breasts, moving down my legs. I sit back up and let him stare at my body. I have to admit, he’s gorgeous and I like the attention.

  “Seven percent,” he says, nodding. “Fine. We’ll do seven. But you’ll have to convince your father of that.”

  “He’ll do it.” I stand up. “So what do we do now?”

  He stands and finishes his drink. He walks over and plops it down on the middle of the desk. I wonder for a second who lives in this house. He turns back to me with a cocky smile and walks over. I take a step back but he slides one arm behind me, his hand on my lower back. His other comes up and his fingers slide into my hair.

  “Now,” he says softly. “We have to get married.” He leans forward and kisses me.

  I feel myself stiffen as his lips brush against mine. It’s soft, gentle, and I find myself drawn closer. I return the kiss before he pulls away. He laughs and releases me.

  “Good start,” he says, walking past me and out into the hall.

  I stand alone in a stranger’s office, staring at the floor, my body vibrating from that simple kiss.

  I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. I just agreed to something insane, but I know I need to do whatever I can to help my father. Josh is handsome, gorgeous really, and I can tell he’s smart. It’s terrifying how much I want to be around him right now, but I can’t help myself.

  That’s the worst part. I’m afraid I’m doing this for the wrong reasons.

  But I’m getting a stake. That’s important. I have nothing else, no other plans, no real future. I have a Harvard degree, and that’s it.

  After this marriage, after this merger, I’ll have a lot more.

  I take a deep breath to steady myself then leave the room, looking for my dad.

  2

  Josh

  “Dearly beloved, we gather here today…”

  I can barely hear the minister as he does his thing. I look out at the crowd of people, six faces in total, three of which I don’t even recognize. We’re in a small chapel in South Philly, and it’s my wedding day.

  I’ve never been a marriage type of guy. I know, that’s cliché, but it’s true. Not that I’m against getting married. In fact, I’ve always wanted a wife to spend my life with.

  I just never thought I’d find the right person.

  I’ve dated. I’ve fucked around. I’ve gotten with my fair share of women and broken my fair share of hearts. But all through that searching, I’ve never once found a woman that I imagi
ned I could spend the rest of my life with.

  Now I’m marrying a total stranger.

  Funny how life works sometimes.

  I turn back to my bride. Maggie looks at me, her head tilted slightly to the side. She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that. Curly brown hair, big, wide green eyes, pouty lips, and a body that drives me wild. She’s gorgeous, but that’s not the only thing that draws me toward her.

  It was the first night we met at that industry party. When we ambushed her with our plan, I thought she was going to storm out of the room in anger. I figured that’s what any sane, normal woman would do in that situation.

  But she didn’t. She stayed and listened. She was appalled, but of course she was.

  And then she got something out of the deal.

  That’s when I knew I wanted her. That’s when I knew I had to have her.

  Shit, she was smart enough to negotiate. If she was smart enough to get something out of that deal in the middle of an emotional ambush, I have to wonder what else she’s capable of.

  That’s the kind of woman I want by my side.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  I blink a little, surprised out of my reverie. Maggie tilts her head and I step forward. I press my lips against hers, kissing her for the second time in my life, then turn to the small crowd. They cheer and I grin at them as the photographer I hired takes multiple pictures of me and my new bride.

  She takes my arm and we walk back down the aisle together as the photographer goes nuts. Her father gives me a nod, a smile plastered on his face. He’s the only other person in this world that knows what we just did.

  Everyone else is clueless. Even my mother. She beams at me, although just a couple days ago, she was talking about how I was moving much too fast.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “Did that really just happen?” Maggie whispers.

  I shrug. “I think so.”

  “Shit.” She grabs my arm tighter. “We’re really married. We’re really doing this.”

  “Keep your eyes on the prize, Maggie,” I say.

  She glances at me. “Right. My cut.”

  I nod once and smile at her as we step out of the chapel and into the sunshine.

  Her father wasn’t excited about that prospect. He fought me on it at first, which was surprising. I mean, she’s his daughter. But then he explained his plan to give Maggie his entire cut when he retired, and that made more sense.

  One day, she might own more of the company than I do, which might be interesting.

  Still, I’ll keep my word. She wants a cut, she’ll get a cut.

  We step out onto the front steps. The photographer starts taking more pictures as my mother and her father come out next. They get in the pictures with us, smiling for the camera. Her brother comes next, followed by her aunt and uncle, the notorious Lofthouses. We take one big happy family photo before the group disperses.

  “Now what?” Maggie asks.

  “Now nothing,” I say. “We’re married.”

  “I know, but aren’t we having a reception?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Just a small, intimate ceremony. Like you wanted.”

  “Right.” She frowns. “Yeah. Of course.” She walks over to talk to her dad. He gives her a hug and I linger there for a moment.

  “Well, honey, you got married.” My mother stands next to me. I put an arm around her.

  “I sure did.”

  “She seems nice. Your father would die a second time if he could.”

  “I bet.” I laugh. “Marrying his rival’s daughter.”

  “What are you thinking, honey?”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it’s sudden. Were you two even dating before this?”

  I arch an eyebrow. I know my mother’s smart, but I didn’t expect her to pick up on this. “We’ve been seeing each other in secret for a while,” I say. “Secret for obvious reasons.”

  “Right.” She sighs. “I just don’t want this to complicate things at the business.”

  “It won’t. If anything, it’ll make my life easier.”

  She frowns and shakes her head. “Well, so long as you’re happy. She seems like a nice girl.”

  “She is, Mom.”

  She gives me a hug then moves off. Sylvia and Edward Lofthouse come over, shake my hand, say their congratulations, and then head off. I watch them go as Maggie comes back over.

  “Did you talk to my aunt and uncle?” she asked.

  I nod. “I’m wondering why they were here.”

  “They’re important,” she says. “I couldn’t ignore them.”

  “I don’t know. They’re not a part of this.”

  “They’re the Lofthouses. They come to everything. I mean, Sylvia Lofthouse, she’s…” Maggie trails off.

  “I’ve heard stories. She seems normal.” I frown and shrug. “Doesn’t matter. We got what we needed.”

  “Which was?”

  “Pictures. And a marriage license.”

  She shakes her head. “This is crazy.”

  “I know.”

  “What now?”

  “Now we should go back to my place and get you settled.”

  “Your place?” She cocks her head. “Let’s live at my place.”

  “Right, okay. Where’s your townhouse again?”

  She hesitates. “I don’t own one.”

  “Ah, okay. So let’s go live with your dad instead of my house then.”

  “I don’t—” She stops herself. “Okay, I live with my dad,” she admits.

  I grin at her. “Come on. You’ll love it.”

  “Separate rooms,” she says.

  “Fine. For now.”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s not going to be like that,” she says.

  “We’ll see. You’re my wife now. I think you have certain duties.”

  “Don’t be gross.” She heads off to talk to her dad and I watch her for another long moment. The photographer is already leaving, since I only paid him for a couple hours, and my mom’s waving as she heads down to her car.

  Her brother comes over, shakes my hand, and heads off without a word.

  I can tell he doesn’t approve of this, but whatever. It doesn’t matter.

  Thomas walks over as Maggie’s brother heads off. The group is almost gone, and it’s just the three of us left. Maggie’s in a beautiful white dress and her father’s in one of his trademark baggy suits.

  “Well, we went through with it,” he says.

  “You don’t sound excited.” I cock my head at him. “This was your idea, you know.”

  He flinches. “I know.”

  “Well, now it’s on you two,” Maggie says. “I did my part.”

  “You’re not finished yet,” I tell her. “We still have to convince my board that we’re in the middle of a blissful marriage.”

  She sighs. “That’s not going to be easy.”

  “Try, sweetie,” her dad says. “I’m going to go home and drink. Best way to celebrate a wedding.”

  “And to forget fraud,” I add.

  He glances at me and smiles. “You’re a lot like your father, you know that?”

  “I know. Got my best qualities from him.”

  “And hopefully none of his worst.”

  “Oh, no. I got all my awful qualities from my mother.”

  Thomas sighs. “Good luck,” he says to his daughter. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  “Don’t worry, Thomas. We’ll be stopping by later. I’m going to show her my place first then we’ll come get her stuff.”

  “Works for me.” He waves and walks off, leaving me alone with my new bride. We stand there in silence together for a long moment before she turns to me.

  “Well, I guess we should get going,” she says.

  “I guess so.” I offer her my arm but she ignores it. We walk down the steps and around the corner to where the town car is waiting. We get in back and I tell the driver my a
ddress.

  “Do you always have a driver?” she asks.

  “Only for my wedding day,” I say.

  “Good. I like taking the bus.”

  I laugh. “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “I drive everywhere.”

  “God, parking is such a nightmare in this city.”

  “It’s not bad when you have a garage.”

  She frowns at me. “You have a garage?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Now I’m really interested in this place.”

  “I bet you are.” The driver takes us north, through South Philly, across South Street, over toward Rittenhouse. My place is on a tiny dead-end block, one of those odd remnants from the original city. It has cobbles still, but the houses are beautiful renovated row homes with brick facades with large, modern windows, and garages just large enough for a small car. We get out, I tip the driver, and he heads off as we walk up my front stoop.

  I unlock the door and turn to her. Before she can speak, I sweep her off her feet and carry her over the threshold.

  “Warn me next time,” she says, her arms wrapped around my neck. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I figure, we’re doing this all the wrong way, so we might as well try and keep some traditions alive.” I put her down and she straightens her dress out. “What do you think?”

  She looks around my place and I follow her gaze. We’re standing in a large open living and dining room area with the original fireplace and all original hardwood flooring. It’s decorated in an understated scheme with blacks and whites and just a few splashes of color from some original oil paintings hanging on the walls. She walks through the living room and back toward the kitchen. I follow at a distance, my hands in my pockets.

  It’s odd, looking at my place from her perspective, or trying to. I put a lot of pride in my home, and now she’s going to come live in it. I hadn’t really thought much about that until this moment, and I have to admit, I’m not exactly thrilled to have a woman in my space.

  Even if she’s gorgeous.

  She turns to me and smiles. “It’ll do.”