Fake It Real: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance Read online

  “When I first asked you, I was very clear. This is just business.”

  “How can you just dismiss the fact that we had sex. You were inside me.”

  I want to throw something. I’m not oblivious to the fact that our relationship is temporary and I am well aware of why I signed up for this whole charade — I need the money. But still, him being so flippant about this pisses me off.

  I can’t just dismiss the fact that he was inside me last night and I can’t overlook the fact that being with him felt good in a way that’s more than just ‘having a good time’.

  He makes me feel like a queen. I feel safe and proud with him no matter where I’m at. Like I belong. Like I’m a success.

  That isn’t nothing. So what if it’s temporary, am I wrong for wanting to make this temporary thing the best it can be?

  But as easy as he can lift me up, just as easily, he can break me down with a few words.

  “Right, we had sex. But, it’s just sex,” he shrugs his shoulders, but there’s something tense in the way he does it. Still, it’s infuriatingly flippant. “As for carrying you to bed, I’m not going to be an asshole and just leave you on the floor when you’re passed out.”

  I stand up. “You’re not going to be an ass? What the fuck? I was vulnerable last night. I. Let. You. Inside. Me. That means something to me, I’m not just another notch in your bedpost.”

  “What do you want, then?” he says, throwing out his hands.

  “I want us to figure out what we are. I don’t want to be fucking you one minute and then get reminded that whatever happens between us is just business.”

  “Fine. If that’s what you want here it is: we’re business partners. If you decide you’d like some fun, then I’ll sleep with you. But there’s no way in hell we’re going to go this thing arguing all the damn time. I introduced you to too many people last night for you to just suddenly disappear because we’ve had a falling out. I actually like being around you, Melody, so I don’t want to fight with you. I’d rather keep this friendly.”

  I bite my lip.

  Is that all this is? A business deal? Friends?

  Why does it feel like so much more?

  My heart doesn’t know what it wants, just that it doesn’t want to keep getting jerked around by Julian Stone. This bargain isn’t ideal, but at least it’s something.

  “Fine. From here on out, we’re friends. Just friends.”

  I say it and try to force my heart to accept it. I have to believe this is the truth, because I don’t know if I can make it through otherwise.

  I like Julian, too.

  Too much, in fact.

  But I’m going to have to try. He needs my help, I need his help, and neither of us will get what we want if this deal blows up. We have to make this work, even if we’re faking it.

  I say it again, looking him in the eyes to show I’m serious: “only friends.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Julian

  We’re back on the road soon after breakfast and I’m glad to be behind the wheel of my Jag again. Driving helps me think. But more than that, I appreciate this car for being so damn responsive: it does what I want, when I want it to; I turn the wheel, it turns; I press the gas, it accelerates. It fucking makes sense.

  Melody, though? That’s a whole different story. With her around, my brain refuses to respond, while my heart surges into overdrive and I’m in a battle just to keep control of the wheel.

  I shouldn’t feel the way I do about her — but when I tell myself that, I don’t know if it’s a reminder or an admission of guilt.

  She’s beside me, the wind tossing her hair about and it seems like, no matter what angle I see her from, she’s beautiful enough to make me stop cold.

  I have to figure this out, though. And I have to remember what’s important.

  The company. My company. My family.

  About half an hour into the drive, we hit a morass of traffic and bog down to a crawl.

  “Where to now?” she says.

  Those are the first words she’s said since we left.

  “Not sure. I’d hoped to get to my place in Malibu by tonight. Even with us leaving late after breakfast, it should’ve been doable. But I’m not so sure now.”

  “You have another house in Malibu? Just how many homes do you own?”

  She sounds surprised. It’s cute.

  “Six, at the moment. There’s my place in San Francisco, one in Malibu, one in New York, one in London, another in Sydney, and one in Rio,” I pause, feeling like I’ve left something out. Then it hits me, “and another in Shanghai.”

  “That’s seven,” she says.

  “I always forget about my Shanghai place,” I shrug. “It was a gift from some government guy and I hardly go there.”

  “They gifted you a house?”

  “In exchange for an investment in some green energy project.”

  “Isn’t that bribery?”

  “That’s just business. In the end, we made an eight figure return on the project, so I’d call it a success.”

  “Seems a little corrupt to me.”

  “It got the job done. That’s what matters,” I say.

  “And you’re just okay with that? You’re happy getting bribes and doing all sorts of dirty business?”

  She’s staring out the window, watching the scenery creep by as we slog through the traffic and, even though she’s not even looking at me, it still feels like she’s judging me. It’s never bothered me before, but now I actually care what someone — and her in particular — thinks about me.

  “It isn’t all bad,” I say. “A lot of good came out of that project — instead of putting up some smoke spewing coal plant, they put up solar panels. There’s a lot of villagers out there in rural China that have cleaner air as a result.”

  “Sounds pretty much like you’re saying the ends justify the means. Doesn’t that bother you as well? That you don’t care about how you get somewhere, or who you step on, as long as you get what you want?” she says, then she turns her beautiful brown eyes back to me.

  “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to get stuff done,” I say, and I know it’s a flimsy defense. But it’s been a long time since anyone’s actually challenged me like she’s doing. It’s refreshing and irritating at the same time.

  “It’s a ‘sacrifice’ to bribe someone, or be bribed? That is some fun logic you’re working there,” she says, with a ghost of a smirk on her face.

  I tighten my grip around the steering wheel. “I’m going to chalk your viewpoint up to being naive about how things work among successful people.”

  She doesn’t answer, and her gaze slips from me to the scenery out the window.

  It takes us hours just to get through San Jose, and soon the sun is slipping below the horizon. It’s just another red light in the sea of red lights stretching in front of me.

  I don’t know how much more of this I want to take, with being trapped in a car with a woman that’s judging me. Even though I shouldn’t give a damn what she thinks because all I need her for is her time, for some reason, I really care. I want her approval.

  I see a sign ahead — Monterey, Twenty Miles — and make my decision.

  “We’re stopping here,” I say, pointing to the road sign.

  She just nods.

  We come down the crest of a hill and I see the bay in front of me and the sight distracts me enough that my mood starts to lift as I catch the last few rays of sunset over Monterey Bay.

  Soon, we’re driving past Spanish Mission-era buildings, early 1900’s shipping wharves, and other buildings that speak to Monterey’s long history trading port.

  Even Melody seems to be coming around to a better mood.

  I park us on the main waterfront drag next to a hotel that looks like it’ll do an adequate job for the night, though to anyone else it’d probably be a splurge vacation-of-the-year spot. I give my keys to the valet, along with a two-hundred dollars in tip and instructions to watc
h the car like a hawk and to tell the hotel manager that I’d be checking in later.

  “Let’s take a walk,” I say to Melody.

  “Do we have to?”

  “We’re engaged, remember? Taking evening walks together in romantic places, like a charming waterfront, is part of the deal.”

  She rolls her eyes. Even when she’s sulking, she’s sexy. “Fine. But I don’t really feel like holding your hand right now.”

  “That’s fine with me, but, if we get spotted, there will be PDA involved.”

  She makes a face. “Did really just you say ‘PDA’? Are we in high school now?”

  “You know us business-types love our acronyms. ROI, FDI, CEO, COO, etc, etc. It got the message across, so I’d call it effective.”

  We start along the boardwalk, walking amongst the other couples out for evening strolls or on their way to romantic dinners at the dozens of little restaurants and bars that line the waterfront. The sea breeze gently caresses my face and carries with it the distant sounds of ships horns and the closer chattering of sea lions and seabirds.

  The crowds start to fade away as we get to a more remote part of the waterfront. Eventually it’s just the two of us, looking out over the water and listening to the crashing waves. It’s serene and, with her by my side, it puts me in the kind of place where I want to open up.

  “I want you to understand something, Melody,” I say, staring at the water. “I want you to understand just why I’m doing all this and why this is so important to me.”

  “I think I have a pretty good idea,” she says.

  I give her a passing glance over my shoulder. “I don’t think you do.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I come from a long line of assholes,” I start. “My great grandfather was a ruthless asshole, my grandfather was a ruthless asshole — though he could be kind on a rare occasion — and my father was a ruthless asshole.”

  “And you’re doing your part to carry on the family tradition?”

  Those words sting like a slap.

  “I know why you think that, but, no, that’s not it. My older brother, Alex, is a really good guy. Donates to charity. Willingly. And he was only CEO for a few months after my father died before all this shady shit came to light, which only happened when the lawyers were pouring over my father’s will and finances. Before that — in fact, for the last seven or eight years — he was being groomed to take over. Despite all of my father’s influence, Alex was a good guy.”

  “Then how did he end up doing all that stuff and wind up in jail?”

  I shake my head. “He wouldn’t. I’ve got my suspicions about what really happened. I know Alex and I know my father. Alex would rather lose the company; my father would sell his firstborn if he thought it’d get him even a half-percent higher return on a deal. My mother’s the same way, and she’s one of the people we’re up against.”

  “So this is for revenge?”

  “No, this is because I’m tired of seeing the few good people in my family get ruined by all the rest.”

  “And what are you going to do if the board decides to back you?”

  Truth is, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’ve only got one goal right now: win. That’s all I care about, and it’s so important to me that my voice shakes no matter how much I try and control it.

  “I’ll figure that out when it happens. I hate seeing my brother — one of the few people in this family that I love, the one I could always count on — get worked over like this. I want to do the right thing, and I swear to God, my heart’s telling me that the first step is getting Stone Capital in line.”

  Hesitantly, she reaches out and takes my hand. It’s a gentle grip, barely there, but it feels good all the same.

  “I’m still on your side, Julian,” she says. “I think you’re doing the right thing, as messed up as the whole situation is. I care. About you, about us, and I’m going to be with you through this.”

  It means a lot just hearing that.

  “Thank you,” I say. I stare at the waves. “It’s good to have someone to talk to, someone that I can trust. It’s rarer than you’d believe.”

  She looks at me, her eyes wide and bright and I can see conviction written there in her gaze. “Even when we’re arguing, don’t forget: you’ve got me,” she says, then she cracks a crooked smile. “Heck, you bought me.”

  “I won’t forget it,” I say. “I told you earlier that you deserve the best and that you shouldn’t accept disrespect from anyone. And that includes me.”

  “Is that an apology?” she says, a gentle smile on her face.

  I nod. “It’s the closest I’ve come to making one in years. So, yeah.”

  She shifts her feet, coming closer, until she’s pressed against me, body to body. I can feel the beating of her heart in her chest and smell the sweet scent of her. Even though I’ve told myself time and again this is just a business arrangement and nothing more, I’m so acutely aware of her; I’m aware of how little fabric there is between us; I’m aware of just how soft her skin was last night; I’m aware of how incredible she tastes.

  Melody is a challenge. She’s a challenge for me to be a better person. She’s going to question me, she’s going to call me out when she sees bullshit.

  She deserves the best I can give.

  “What now?” she says, gazing up at me.

  “Three things,” I say, holding her close. “First, I’m going to remind you that you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever been with. You deserve the best I can give you. You challenge me and frustrate me in all the right ways. Sometimes it’s going to make me fuck up and say things like what I said earlier this morning.”

  That smile of hers gets a little wider. Her full lips are just screaming out for mine. “And the second?”

  “That Stephanie is going to get an even bigger tip than earlier, because every outfit you wear is somehow better than the one before it.”

  She’s smiles and kisses my cheek. The blouse she has on right now is unreal — it billows and hugs her in all the right places. It also doesn’t hurt that it takes an incredibly deep ‘v’ dive between her luscious tits.

  She moves closer, pushing her body against mine, kissing my neck. “And the third?”

  I hold her by the chin, looking right into her eyes. They’re shining, reflective, hypnotic. I can see myself being content to look into them for the rest of my life.

  “I’m going to remind you that, despite what I said earlier about this being just business, I was wrong. And since I promised to give you the truth, here it is: I was a fucking idiot for thinking I can resist you. I can’t. So I won’t.”

  I start slow. I give her a kiss that lets me savor the subtle sweetness of her scent — floral and luscious. My hands roam her body, feeling every inch of her through the thin fabric of her blouse.

  She moans against my lips, this deep sound of need and want.

  Her kisses pick of intensity until they’re fierce, until she wants to devour me just as much as I want to devour her.

  I slide my tongue into her mouth, press myself against her, pushing her hard against the railing. She goes stiff and her hand darts out to seize my stiff cock through my slacks.

  One pump, then another, and I start grinding my hips. I don’t think about who could be watching, I don’t think about us being in public, all I think about is how good it’s going to feel when she wraps her lips around my cock.

  And she reads my mind.

  A flick of her wrist and she’s got my zipper down. Now there’s nothing between my cock and her hand.

  Another pump.

  “You’re wicked,” I growl.

  She grins. “You love it.”

  She squeezes, sending shivers lancing up my body.

  “I do.”

  She pauses, lips parted, and I watch, enraptured, as her eyes scan up and down the boardwalk.

  “We’re alone.”

  I’ve never heard a sweeter phrase in my life.

 
Be still my fucking heart.

  She goes to her knees. Carefully, her pink tongue slips out of her mouth and brushes the head of my cock.

  I jerk my hips.

  It’s like a lightning bolt just shot through my body.

  She chuckles and does it again. I shake again. It’s like my nerves are going haywire — I can feel everything, every bit of her tongue, of her fingers, of her lips, and it is mind-blowing.

  I grab hold of the railing. Tight. It’s the only thing keeping me standing right now.

  Her tongue is as light as a feather, a brush as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, but every stroke is electric and enough to knock me off my feet.

  She tightens her grip and pumps my shaft while gently twisting her hand and I have to grit my teeth from shooting right then and there.

  “How are you so fucking beautiful?”

  She chuckles. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls who suck your cock.”

  I look down to take in the sight of her. The curves of her hips, her ass, which her skirt does nothing to hide. And her eyes. Those eyes are perfect — fiery, open, gorgeous.

  “None of them come close to you. You’re better than a fantasy.”

  She winks at me and, before I can even prepare myself, she swallows me whole. Every inch of my cock lodges deep in her throat while she makes these low moans of pleasure. Every vibration sends ripples of pleasure through my body.

  I start groaning.

  I can’t hold it back and I don’t want to. This feels too good.

  Time starts to slow down as I get closer to coming.

  “I’m close,” I moan.

  “That’s what I want,” she says, taking me out of her mouth for just a moment.

  Then, still moaning, she puts me deep in her throat and, with one hand starts caressing my balls.

  I’m done for.

  I cry out, not giving a damn who might hear as I fill her mouth with my come.

  She sucks greedily, taking every last drop and not letting go until my cock has stopped twitching and I feel completely emptied.

  “Holy shit,” I gasp when my body finally starts working again.

  She smiles seductively and licks her lips before slowly getting back to her feet. “How far is it to our hotel?”