Fake It Real: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance Read online

“The guard said I only get fifteen minutes. Did white collar jail suddenly get a lot harder than I remember?”

  “I’ve already killed six people. It’s how you survive here, bro. I’ve got a new name, too. From now on, call me Big Bear.”

  I’m sort of speechless.

  Alex laughs and shakes his head. “No. Your timing’s just off, bro. They have mandatory meditation in fifteen minutes. After that, it’s massage time.”

  “You get massages here?”

  “Every Friday,” he says.

  “Fuck, bro. Remind me to get arrested sometime soon.”

  He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t last a day in here, Jude. It’s rough. The baccarat teams are cutthroat. Just last week, one of the inmates got in a little too much debt at one of the games… So, later that night, some of the boys cornered him in the showers, and, man, it got ugly…” he pauses for dramatic effect. “They gave him a stern talking to. Raised voices and everything. I still have nightmares about it.”

  “That’s got to be difficult. However do you manage?”

  “Same way you do anywhere else: you keep your head down, your eyes and ears open, and you don’t ever, ever, ever drop the soap,” he says. “But, seriously, why are you here? I doubt you came around for prison shower-time advice.”

  “I won,” I say. “You’re looking at the newest CEO of Stone Capital.”

  “Congratulations?”

  “Mike already beat you to that one,” I say, feeling a genuine, faint smile on my face for the first time in hours.

  “That little bastard. He was always too quick for his own good,” he says, then, looking at me like I’ve got my questions written all over my face, he goes on, “so, why do you look like you’ve just walked in on mom naked?”

  I make a gagging noise and refuse to let any of that imagery appear in my head. “Really?”

  “Yeah, you look like you want to violently eject your insides out of your mouth and your nostrils. Which is obviously the correct response to seeing Victoria Stone naked.”

  “Let’s not talk about it.”

  “Then how about you tell me why you look so damn sick.”

  I tell him everything. I tell him all about meeting Melody in Rockaway Bay, about the way she stitched me up, about convincing her to pretend to be my fiance in exchange for helping her out, about how I thought I felt about her, and about how she’s been playing me this whole time.

  “So, who is she?” he asks at the end of my story.

  I shrug bitterly. “Fuck if I know.”

  “Sometimes, people lie for good reasons, man. And, yeah, sometimes they lie because they’re bastards,” he shrugs. “But, either way, where are you going to go from here? You won — if you want to call it that. You told the better lie, you got the board to believe in you, and now you get the prize. Now, what are you going to do with it?”

  “I think the next month or two is going to be about keeping the company steady. Victoria and Pierce are pretty intent on tearing down as much as they can, since Victoria’s not taking over. After that, I don’t know — make a load of cash and then, when you’re out, we’ll set you up with a nice executive position.”

  Alex laughs. “Me? No, no, no. Brother, I’m doing just fine. I’ve got plenty of money and, honestly, I’d have dinner with mom than go back to Stone Capital.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People are more honest here, in prison, than they are in the boardroom. There’s less backstabbing, less lies, and it’s a wholly better class of person here. I’ve had plenty of time to think in here and, once I’m out, I’m out. It’s honorable of you to keep Victoria from taking over, thanks for biting the bullet, but I don’t envy you the aftermath.”

  I don’t respond. I let his words sink into me. All I’ve cared about until this point is winning, is getting revenge and making sure the people who wronged my brother don’t profit.

  “Do you remember that summer — I think you were seven, maybe — when we were staying at Grandma and Grandpa’s vacation home.”

  Something jogs my memory. “In Charleston, wasn’t it? We took off on our bikes that whole day, left Mike behind.”

  “Do you remember playing king of the mountain?”

  I nod, then I punch him in the shoulder. “I remember. I also remember you only ran towards that ‘mountain’ just enough to get me to jump on it.”

  He laughs. “It’s not my fault you didn’t realize it was a compost heap until it was too late. At least you won, though. And you’ve won now.”

  I glare at him.

  “But I’m sure you’ll do just fine, bro,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for and, shit, this whole escapade proved you are an incredible salesman. I just hope you find happiness on top of your mountain. That’s what really matters.”

  A buzzer rings and some overweight guy in an ill-fitting uniform waves at me to move. Visiting hours are over. The whole walk down the hallway, this feeling of foreboding settles over me.

  Have I really won?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Melody

  I spend the last dollars to my name paying for a taxi to the bus station and buying a ticket home.

  Fitting. Just one more way that I’m worthless.

  Not only am I the woman who sabotaged the best relationship she’s ever had, I’m also broke.

  I leave most of my stuff at Julian’s. Going back for it would just mean I have a chance at running into him. Besides, he paid for it, anyways.

  I feel absolutely wretched.

  The world drags by outside my window.

  For a hundred miles and three hours, I’m next to some man in overalls who smells like he last bathed in his high school gym class; he looks about forty years old, he’s wearing some tattered track suit, and he manspreads. Which he definitely should not do, because, not only does it invade my space, it makes the smell worse every time he does it.

  The spreader gets off the bus in Bakersfield and says something to himself about being glad to be home. I take one look at the featureless flat fields and almost feel sorry for him. Bakersfield kind of sucks.

  The bus leaves town, getting back on the endless stretch of interstate that runs through California’s central valley. It’s a bland purgatory for me to traverse, a voyage from the moments of heaven behind me, into the turbulent hell that awaits me once I get home.

  The ominous words from that text message dominate my thoughts. I’ll see you soon. I’m certain it’s from my ex, David. And if he hasn’t found me, he’s got an idea about where I am.

  When the women’s advocacy group I went to told me a lot of my records — so much of that horrible chapter in my life — would be sealed, I’d hoped it was the end of it. I’ve been safe, I’ve been off the radar for almost a year. I haven’t even talked to my parents since then.

  Then, Pierce and Victoria kicked the hornets nest and I’m half expecting to find him waiting for me when I get home.

  That thought terrifies me.

  But I’ve got no choice but to go home. I have no money, no means to start over again.

  I sleep, somehow, my purse clenched in my hands to keep any of the other people on this bus from stealing it. I don’t trust anyone right now.

  The bus pulls into the station in Rockaway Bay around midday and I exit alone. My legs are unsteady after hours upon hours of being in that seat, with only the occasional five minute rest stops whenever the bus driver felt like pulling over for McDonald’s or a smoke break.

  Alice is waiting for me in the parking lot. She looks me up and down.

  “Welcome home,” she says. “I’ve got vodka in the glove box.”

  I slump into the passenger seat of her car and help myself to the promised vodka. It’s cheap, it burns, but it does what I need.

  “Where to?” she says.

  “Work.”

  She looks at me sideways. “You know we don’t have any appointments today. As usual. Don’t you w
ant to go home?”

  “No. Please. Even if there’s nothing to do, even if I’m just mopping the floor, I want to be at work.”

  She nods. “Work it is. I got your car fixed, by the way. Well, I helped. Kind of. Mainly, I just answered the door when the AAA guy showed up at the office and asked if the Fiesta in our lot was the car he was supposed to fix the tires on. I’m pretty sure Julian sent him.”

  “When was this?”

  She shrugs. “A while ago.”

  We cruise down the roads at a speed that feels too slow to me.

  “What happened? I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but, last I heard, you and that guy lit up San Francisco, brawled in some club in LA, and then there were all these grainy long-distance photos of the two of you frolicking at his house in Malibu — unclothed, of course, and I have to say, he has a great butt, I hope you got in plenty of smacks on it — but now, you’re just here? Like, here and looking like someone died just a day after your man becomes CEO?”

  At least he got what he wanted.

  I reach out and put my hand on her arm. “I left, Al. I chose to leave. Things just got really complicated and I couldn’t take it.”

  “So, he didn’t cast you aside?” she sounds like she doesn’t believe it. “I’m shocked. Because who would’ve thought that a fake marriage would get complicated.”

  “No. He was so much better than I thought. But I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

  Part of me wants to tell her everything, but right now, my nerves are too raw, the wounds are too fresh, and I don’t think I could handle the shame right now.

  I had a chance at something real. A chance at something better than a dream — a relationship with a man who truly loved me — and I ruined it.

  We park in front of my office. The doors are shut, the lights are out, the ‘closed’ sign hangs on the door, and it all just looks so small and sad.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say to Alice as I get out.

  “Wait — “she calls and she leans over in her seat to take the small bottle of vodka out of her glovebox and hand it to me. “Keep it. I’ll be around. And up late. So call me any time if you want to talk. Or, if, you know, we get some patients.”

  I smile. “Thanks. I will.”

  She drives away slowly, and I stand there in the lot a while before letting myself into the office. I shut the door behind me, check the lock twice and then sit down at my desk.

  Julian Stone, you bought this place and gave it to me. You gave me the means to make my dream here permanent. And, by loving you, I ruined it all.

  This place feels like a funeral home.

  How could I be so stupid? How could I let myself get sucked up into Julian’s world? How could I keep something from him and not expect everything to come crashing down at some point?

  I should’ve known this wouldn’t work. But then, how could I not fall in love with a man like him? He swept me off my feet and he made me feel like I truly deserved it; he saw me as a woman with value: as a friend, as a partner, as a lover.

  I’ve never had that before.

  I drain the bottle over an hour. It helps, a little.

  Then I have a good cry, the kind that shudders your body and leaves you feeling a little numb when it’s over, with your throat raw and your nose a mucusy mess.

  I try and look at everything objectively. Like a doctor assessing a patient.

  I need to start thinking about what comes after. My ex is on my tail, and sooner or later, he’s going to catch up. There’s no way in hell I want to see his face again — it took me months to exorcise it from my night mares.

  But I can’t start over here.

  I make a decision. Standing up, I take out of my desk the spare set of car keys I keep hidden in a drawer. I don’t want to be alone right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Julian

  My new office is a rarefied place, in one of the tallest buildings in the city, high enough to suffocate. I’m the king of the mountain and I can look out my window at everyone scurrying below like ants and realize just how distant I’m going to be from the rest of the world. Except for the other liars, con artists, and sharks who claw their way up to join me in the boardroom.

  This is what I fought so hard for.

  This is what I gave my heart away for.

  And to keep this chair, I’ll be fighting the rest of my life, sacrificing bits of myself until I’m just as much of a bastard as every other Stone man who’s ridden the CEO’s chair for any length of time.

  If I’m lucky, I’ll get an out like my older brother.

  “Mr. Cunningham is here to see you, sir,” my secretary’s voice says out of the speaker on my phone.

  I have a secretary now.

  Hell, I have an entirely company. Analysts, brokers, bankers, secretaries, interns, all under my thumb, all dependent on my leadership. It makes me look back on the time when it was just Melody and me, just the two of us, working for each other. Her lies sting, but even so, the time we spent together makes me smile.

  “Send him in,” I reply.

  Gordon enters, knocking lightly a few times before opening the door. He’s grinning widely, which isn’t the nicest sight, considering he’s British and, like most British people I’ve met, his teeth are a fucked-up mess.

  get up and shake his hand. It’s good to see someone today — on my first day as CEO — who I know isn’t entirely a conniving rat.

  “Gordon, how can I help you?” I say.

  “Oh, I’m not here for any particularly reason, Julian. Other than to pay my respects and offer you my congratulations.”

  “Thank you, though I’d hold off on the congratulations if I were you. At least until things are more settled. I have a feeling it’s going to be a rough transition. Victoria is going to try and rock the boat.”

  He rolls his eyes and snorts. “She might have inherited some of your father’s stake in the company when he passed, but she’s never had a single bone for business in her body, except when she was fucking your father. That trophy wife is no prize.”

  “No, she isn’t. Even when they were together, she was a shit partner for my father. I don’t think they had a single loving day in their marriage.”

  “I’m not surprised. The higher you get, the more you have, the harder it is to find someone to trust. And when you do find someone, it takes a lot of sacrifice to maintain it. To be honest, neither your father nor your mother struck me as the type to sacrifice. It all makes me thankful I met my wife back before I made my money — I knew that when she told me that she loved me, she really meant it.”

  I might be up at the highpoint of the Los Angeles skyline, but, emotionally, I’m somewhere in the subway system.

  “Gordon, let me ask you something — after my father died and they put Alex away, did you ever think about making a move to be CEO?”

  He shrugs. “The thought crossed my mind. If I had thought your mother’s play had any chance of succeeding, I would’ve thrown my hat in the ring. This company means something, and it’s more than just money. Think about what you have, Julian — a fourth generation tower of wealth, with you at the top. There’s a lot of potential, there.”

  “And now? You have no ambitions to run it?”

  Gordon laughs a full-body laugh, shaking his head. “Thankfully, that burden’s fallen to you. The CEO’s chair is as much a sentence as a reward. There’s a reason your father and your grandfather were such bastards, you know. I’d say the same about your great grandfather, but I didn’t have the pleasure.”

  “It wasn’t a pleasure,” I say. “Every story in our family about the great Mason Augustus Stone in some way revolves around how much of a colossal prick he was.”

  “And just think, now you get to join them in the pantheon of assholes.”

  “At least now I’ll get to answer that age old question about whether money buys happiness.”

  He gives me a sage look. “It doesn’t. Doesn’t
matter how much you have. You find the things that make you happy, and you hold onto them. Doesn’t matter if that’s charity or a wife or something else. And now that you’re at the top, you need to hold on for dear life.”

  * * * * *

  “Gentlemen, if you’ll turn to page sixty of the prospectus and check chart G-4, you’ll see the projections for our holdings in Poland, Latvia, and Lithuania…”

  I zone out.

  This is a level of stultifying boredom I didn’t think existed in humanity. I’m grateful I’d skipped most of the board meetings up to this point; otherwise, I’d probably have thrown myself out the windows.

  I flip through gigantic prospectus while the European regional director drones on about energy futures in Eastern Europe.

  This is my future, now. And not even thoughts about my enormous net worth bring me much comfort — even though it took me running the numbers three times to actually believe that I’m worth that much money. It also doesn’t help soften the blow that I’m going to have to actually give a damn now about natural gas pipelines in Bulgaria.

  Fucking Bulgaria.

  I traded my happiness for revenge and a literal mountain of money.

  No wonder dad was such an asshole — a lifetime of this would kill anyone’s soul.

  I let my mind wander while the board meeting drags on.

  I think of the good things, and everything leads back to her. My happiest moments were with Melody, or whatever her name is. She took me up on my crazy offer and helped me pull off this ridiculous coup. I gave her up for this because I wasn’t brave enough to let go of this spiteful dream and chase after her.

  My phone buzzes and I flip it open. There’s a new headline with my name on it.

  And hers.

  “Exposed: The Playboy and the Con Artist defrauding Stone Capital.”

  Victoria’s at it, and she’s not going to stop raking my life, and Melody’s, over the coals. She knows she can’t win, but she can sure as hell make our lives miserable.

  It makes me sick. Melody doesn’t deserve this.