My Billionaire Fake Fiance

by Linda West

  Devlin's eyes bulged. "Dogs? Jeeves, you know full well I'm allergic to dogs. What in the world could have possessed you?"

  A look of dawning came over him, and he went deadly silent.

  "She's here."

  Jeeves nodded.

  "Balderdash!" Devlin exploded. "She brought those prize poodles across the country?"

  Devlin looked angrier than I had ever seen. He spat out, "Sissy."

  "Yes, sir," Jeeves said. "With the entire family and her maid and nanny. That's why we don't have any spare rooms. She insisted the children each have their own suite, and the baby…"

  I cocked my head. Sounded like the same old spoiled Sissy.

  "Just get the poodles out of our room. It's been a long night, and we're going to bed."

  My heart wiggled at the ‘our room’ comment. That was, hopefully, a mistake. I struggled to look calm and relaxed when Jeeves helped Devlin off with his coat. "I did reject the idea of the dogs going in your room, sir, quite demonstratively, but she insisted you weren't coming, again…"

  He trailed off and looked chagrined.

  Devlin patted him on the back. "Not your fault, good man. I know my sister is impossible to say no to."

  "Yes, sir." He hung up Devlin's coat. I took mine off and hobbled over to hang it up when I saw Devlin giving me the evil eye in my periphery. I stopped in my tracks.

  Jeeves turned and smiled and took my coat from me. "Allow me, Miss Allie."

  Chapter 19

  The hallways upstairs were elaborate. The carpet was a deep red with golden scrolls like a fancy casino. The ceiling boasted bold, rustic logs with grandiose crystal, brilliant chandeliers hanging from them.

  The young maid, Alice, came bustling out of the end room with sheets under her arm, and in her hand the leashes of two extremely large, matching white poodles. They pulled and yanked her forward as she attempted to close the door behind her.

  Devlin took out a handkerchief and held it over his mouth. The dogs suddenly lurched forward and broke free from the overwhelmed maid and barreled straight toward us. They both leaped on me and began pawing and drooling all over my new dress. Did I mention dogs love me?

  I love dogs, too, but drool and Chanel is not a good match. It's one thing to be in jeans and a T-shirt– no problem. T-shirts are made for dogs and dirt and real work.

  I looked down at myself, and I had gobs of poodle spittle splotched all over my first designer duds. I gave in and petted the dogs anyway. Dogs will be dogs.

  Devlin finally pulled them off of me, aided by the maid. "So sorry, miss. So sorry, Mr. Devlin."

  He tugged me into the safety of the room and shut the door.

  Chapter 20

  Dark, ornate furniture accompanied a fire crackling in the corner. Devlin plopped down on the massive bed that was covered with a festive red quilt and ran his hands through his hair. I couldn't help but think he looked like a model in one of those Halston cologne commercials. I wonder if he knew that move had that effect, and that's why he did it.

  I cast my eyes away from his Siren's song. Instead, I looked around the comfortable room and realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore. I had never seen this kind of splendor. Ski chalet, ha! Royal Palace in the snow was more like it. For the first time, the realization of how a billionaire lived was my reality.

  "This changes everything," Devlin croaked, as he looked up at me from under those long lashes. "I had no idea the General would be here."Devlin got up and began pacing back and forth.

  "We need to get ready for a nuclear strike."

  "Excuse me?"

  "My sister and her entire family…this is a whole other level of fraud."

  He studied me. "She can't recognize you. She can't know this is a stunt, or this will backfire on me–and you."

  Sissy had always been such a princess, so I wasn't thrilled about her being there either. I didn't even have sibling rivalry weirdness going for me.

  Devlin was right. I wasn't sure what kind of wrench her knowing me might throw into the picture. Surely, she had seen the papers and knew the truth about Devlin's girlfriend. How would we explain that?

  Gosh, darn it. I couldn't figure this out. I didn't get my doctorate in science or anything; I'm just trying to save the world.

  Devlin was bent on wearing a hole in the pricey Persian rug as he continued to pace back and forth like a panther. It kind of turned me on, for some reason.

  He was beside himself ranting and huffing as he strode back and forth, tossing his glorious hair around him like some rakish romance hero.

  "This is never going to work. We should just turn around and go back to Manhattan and forget everything."

  Yes, yes! The inside of me screamed. Let's get out of this bedroom, off this blizzard mountain, and get home so I can spend Christmas with my dad and celebrate saving the house with my –

  "Hey, wait–what about my two hundred thousand dollars?" I cried.

  He stopped pacing.

  "You can't expect me to pay you for an unfinished job."

  "That's not my fault."

  "I'll pay you double your rate for the car service–let's go."

  My Christmas miracle was falling apart.

  "NO! We had a deal. I thought you were a businessman. You can't just go and renege on your word. We had a verbal agreement, which is binding in court, I might add!" Well, I think.

  "Fine. I'll pay you triple." He checked his watch.

  "I may get home in time for the after-hours VIP party at the Ritz. Come on, I'll have Jeeves bring our things back down…"

  "Wait," I said. I jumped up and grabbed his arm.

  "Look at this." I pointed to my face and hair.

  "You did this to me. Disfigured me into some sort of Pygmalion blonde clone!"

  "And? You should thank me!" He snapped his fingers. "Plus, we need to deduct the clothes."

  I stamped my foot. "That I don't want?! How are you going to convince your dad you're a man of your word when you can't even keep one promise? I'm deformed. You're paying anyway."

  He put his hands on his hips.

  "Make me."

  I put my hands on my hips back.

  "Don't threaten me. I have a YouTube following, Devlin Somerset."

  Devlin threw his hands up. "Ooooh, frightening. How many views do you get, fifteen?"

  I squished my lips together. My YouTube channel had not flourished as I had hoped, but I had thirty dedicated fans and growing.

  I had to think quickly. "Look, your sister is here for the holidays all the way from Los Angeles."

  "Don't remind me."

  "And why do you think she's here?"

  A light flickered in his gray eyes as realization dawned.

  "She wants something from Dad."

  I nodded. "Bingo." I did his finger snap thing back at him, although my snap is lame. Not all clear and commanding like his. "If you go home now, who knows what she'll talk your father into? You said he's not well and you haven't seen him in five years?"

  "Right."

  "That's unforgivable, I might add, not seeing your father for that many years." I shook my head.

  "I've been running the company. It's what he wanted."

  I dead-eyed him. "We need to do this! You worked hard, you earned it, right?"

  He nodded. "Every day for the last five years, I've lived and breathed it. I had hoped he'd be proud of me."

  He let out a long breath and looked chagrined. "Seems despite my dedication and the business flourishing, old stereotypes die hard. Which is why I concocted this whole stupid charade to begin with."

  I put my hands on his shoulders; it was a reach. "That is exactly why you need to show him how well-adjusted you are with your loving fiancé!"

  He looked down at me with an uncertain slump.

  "Come on," I urged, like I was a coach trying to get him to score. "When the going gets tough, the tough get going. You're not going to let your sister win, are you?"

  He shook his head.

&nb
sp; "This better work, or we're both screwed. If Sissy figures out our game, the collateral damage could get ugly. Are you prepared?"

  Fear gripped me like a tightening noose. There was no going back now. I nodded with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

  "And good grief, whatever happens, she can't know you are our chauffeur's daughter!"

  I gulped.

  Chapter 21

  Devlin continued to gaze into the fire, lost in thought. But I was exhausted. I looked around the room, hoping there was some connected suite with a bed for me that I wasn't seeing. Sadly, as big as the place was, there was only one huge bed. I rubbed my neck.

  "Um, there is only one bed," I mumbled.

  He glanced around the room absently. "You can take the couch; it’s comfortable."

  My mouth hung open. How rude. He looked as if he were ready to do the chin-click thing, so I shut it quickly and eyed him.

  "Well, as your fiancé, don't you think that the love of your life should be comfortable? I'm sure you meant you were offering to sleep on the couch?"

  He looked at me.

  "Are you a virgin, or just horrible with men?"

  I nearly spit out my indignity.

  "Um, what does that have to do with anything?" He was, if possible, more offensive than earlier.

  Oooh, I hated him.

  Here he was, all upset over his rich person's problems, while my father and I fought to save our two-bedroom home in Jersey. If he thought I was going to feel bad for him, he could think again.

  He waved his hand at the bed. "This bed is as large as a polo field; I had it designed myself. I could barely locate you in it if I wanted too. I'll take one side. You take the other."

  I swallowed. I wasn't about to be delegated like a servant to sleep at the settee at his feet.

  And Mr. Rude wasn't doing the very chivalrous thing, according to YouTube’s etiquette rules.

  "Fine. But I'm putting up a pillow wall for propriety’s sake. Just stay on your side."

  He scrunched his face up. "The least of your worries."

  He looked lost in thought, and I didn't care to delve into his narcissistic issues. Oh, the poodles were in my room–ghastly. Oh, my sister came home at the same time–how will I cope?

  Try buying scratch-offs hoping you can get college book money.

  There was a knock at the door, and Jeeves entered with silver tray, champagne, and strawberries. He was followed by a thin man with bifocals wearing a formal uniform and pushing our suitcases.

  Devlin took a glass and went over to mope by the fire. Now he looked like another Ralph Lauren ad. Darn him and his good looks.

  "Thank you!" I said, reaching in my purse for some tip money.

  Devlin's hand grabbed mine mid-motion as I removed my wallet.

  "That will be all, Jeeves."

  The two servants nodded and retreated. This was uncomfortable, to say the least. Devlin drank and stared at the fire. I could feel his urge for flight.

  I poured myself a glass of champagne, since he didn't offer, and went into the bathroom to change. He might need to sit up and brood all night, but I was exhausted, and I wanted to talk to Dad and check-in.

  I finally located a nightgown that looked like something Zsa Zsa Gabor would wear. I glanced back at the closed door.

  What the heck?

  Well, he hadn't planned on sleeping in the same room, so maybe this is the kind of getup richy-rich ladies slumbered in.

  I was a T-shirt, girl. I put my hand through the night slip, and it was nearly see-through. I cast it from me like it was plutonium.

  I pulled out my Save the Trees T-shirt that I had worn under my uniform and smelled the pits, then slipped it on. It covered my ample butt, and that's all that mattered. I wiped off the makeup and inspected myself, looking like Broom Hilda with the white hair. Horrible. I looked 70, not 27.

  I really wanted to talk to my dad. I couldn't wait to hear about his night. I wasn't exactly sure what I could tell him about mine.

  I peeked out of the bathroom–or powder room. I guessed you called something that is all gold and mirrored a powder room.

  Devlin was gone. I came out hesitantly and glanced around. Yep, gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed my phone. No reception. Darn. I jimmied up the window and stuck my cellphone outside to see if I could pick up a bar. Nothing.

  I was drawn to the sounds of a horse pawing below me. I looked down to see Devlin atop a tremendous black steed. The bridle gleamed gold in the full moon's glow.

  I caught my breath and pulled my phone back in the window. I hid behind the curtain and peeked out of the side.

  He was petting the horse and leaned over to give it a piece of carrot. A light came on in the front porch, and Devlin spurred his horse into a gallop with a jab of his boots. He rose up on two legs before he flew away into the night. I took a deep breath.

  In all truth, it was more like a sigh. What can I say? What girl isn't a sucker for a handsome stud on a stately steed? Lethal combo. I wish I had never put that image in my head.

  Chapter 22

  When I woke, Devlin was already talking business on the phone. He was speaking German. Hmmm, German. That's sexy. He had a severe but charming tone.

  I darted out a quick glance from under my pillow. Devlin was sprawled out on the leather settee, conversing as if they were best friends. I could see why he could be successful.

  Much better to deal with a good vibe than some stuffy bigwig. He had papers spread on the side table and the silver tray–I bet real silver too—not that silver coating stuff that washes off–with a pot of coffee and a small OJ.

  He clicked off the call and got up to stoke the logs. He was already perfectly coifed and in a sleek gray suit that hugged his perfect physique.

  "If you're done spying on me, you should dress for breakfast–we'll be leaving at 8:05. That gives you…" A glance at his watch– "ten minutes."

  I opened full Betty Boop eyes from my lousy camouflaged spying spot under my pillow. Ten minutes? I reached up and felt my head. It would take me that long to get a brush through my new bush hair thanks to the murderous bleach. I prayed I could get it looking better than my current Phyllis Diller look.

  ****

  We walked down the marble staircase. Devlin looked good enough to eat in his suit and sky-blue shirt. I was doing better with the shoes today, as they were only two inches high, instead of four.

  Devlin had not only my unpacked my new clothes for me, but also organized, hung up, and color-coded my part of the closet while I was sleeping.

  For my breakfast introduction to the family, he had chosen a cream Chanel skirt and blazer combo with sensible nude shoes. Beneath the suit, I sported a silk blouse that made me feel like a real girl. Who knew polyester wasn't the blend of queens?

  Huge busts of dead animals lined the walls cabin style, and I looked away, disgusted. Hunters were second on my list of evil. I looked up at Devlin, who eyed me critically. I was about to tell him how wrong it was to kill animals when he said, "Is that the best you could do with your hair?"

  I scrunched up the side of my mouth and brought my hand to my hair. Unfortunately, the answer was yes.

  "Well, it used to look good naturally, but now it's white straw, thanks a lot."

  He pushed an errant strand behind my ears. "You don't have to hide your face. You look like a Muppet. Now stand up tall and look like I'd marry you."

  I instinctively stuck out my tongue, but I did straighten my back. Jerk.

  "Okay, lets practice," he said. "Ask me something about myself."

  I rolled my eyes. A narcissist's favorite tune. "Okay, what is your favorite music?"

  "Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue."

  "Mine is Rogers & Hammerstein's Cinderella."

  Devlin shook his head. "Cliché."

  "What?" I said. "Every girl loves those songs. Horse, prince, true love? What's not to like?"

  "That's what cliché means, Allie. Besides, I thought you were th
e one that said you were never going to fall into the trap of believing in love again…how all the men you love leave you, and all that?"

  I made a prune face. I was not about to feel bad about loving some classic musical. I thought he had been sleeping when I was droning on about my failure with men, boosted by my sugar high from two glasses of chocolate milk. I didn't even want to think about it.

  "Well, you should listen to the soundtrack. It's incredible. My mother and I used to sing along all the time. Ten minutes ago, I met you; you looked up when I walked in the room. So romantic."

  "I've heard it."

  He put a hand over my mouth. "I played the Prince at boarding school."

  I laughed. "You sang too?"

  He sneered. "It wasn't my choice. I needed an extra-curricular activity to get into Harvard. Moving on."

  I suppressed a giggle. I liked the thought of big haughty Devlin having to dance around in tights and sing syrupy songs to the Cinderella musical. My kingdom for that videotape.

  "Besides," Devlin said, looking down at me. "You don't believe in fairytale love, and neither do I. That's the one thing that does make us perfect together. You're just as much a commitment-phobe as I am."

  I thought about that. Did hating men and swearing to be single my whole life mean I was a commitment-phobe? Better than brokenhearted and betrayed, in my book.

  Devlin whined on. "Yep, completely un-marriable."

  I cleared my throat and tried to change the subject.

  "Moving on. What's your favorite drink?"

  "Rothschild 68 Latour."

  "Mine is chocolate milk."

  "Favorite food?"

  "Beef Wellington."

  "Spam."

  He shook his head again.

  "I would never date you."

  "Ditto," I spat back, as we entered the communal area. I arranged a pleasant smile on my face.

  "I was kidding about the spam; I'm a vegetarian," I mumbled under my breath.