Fake Fiance_fake engagement romance Read online

  Fake Fiancée

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  Contents

  chapter 1 chapter 2

  chapter 3 chapter 4

  chapter 5 chapter 6

  chapter 7 chapter 8

  chapter 9 chapter 10

  chapter 11 chapter 12

  chapter 13 chapter 14

  chapter 15 chapter 16

  chapter 17 chapter 18

  chapter 19 chapter 20

  chapter 21 chapter 22

  chapter 23

  1

  LOGAN

  Wearily, I opened my eyes, clapping a hand against my temples. A hangover headache buzzed in my head, and I felt like I had been locked in a sauna for hours. I grumbled and rested back on the soft bed.

  When I closed my eyes, I ignored the thin rays of moon light from the blinds, but it was no good. I wouldn't get any sleep tonight. Shocker. Not after all the partying and drinking the night before. Right now, my head was befuddled, and I couldn't remember how I got here. Why the hell didn't I return to my penthouse?

  Soft mewling hit my ears and I felt a warm hand grasp my cock. Turning to my side, my eyebrows furrowed. She looked pretty and her blond hair hid her face. She was a lithe, small woman but she knew her way around my cock, and I'm sure we had a great time together. But now it was over.

  Even though I only had an hour's sleep, I got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. The warm spray of hot water would wake up my body. In the shower, I felt the droplets slide down my firm, taut muscles. I ran my hands through my wet hair.

  I need to lay off the booze. It could kill me or worse: damage the family name.

  One minute I’m invited to a club opening with my friends, and then the next I open my eyes. Clothes off - in a new bed -and a woman who smells of cinnamon and roses. What was her name? Tamzin? Tracy?

  I shook it off, I had to get dressed and ready for work at 8 AM.

  When I saw a shadow at the shower door, I realized my plans would have to wait another hour. I grinned. The door opened and steam shifted out as she sauntered toward me, raised her head and pulled me down for a kiss.

  "Just when I thought I would have a boring shower. See anything you want?"

  “I missed you in bed.”

  “came out for some air. The water's hot and my cock's hard.”

  “This could be fun.” She retorted.

  She opened her mouth and I felt her tongue slide down my chest. Shivering, I grinned as she moved down my abs until she dropped to her knees. She slipped my rigid cock past her soft lips in one swift moment. Like a seasoned seductress. Only sexier.

  I looked down, past her golden hair, and saw a licentious expression on her face as she handled my cock. I felt tendrils of pleasure run through my body and spread my hands against the shower door.

  "Fuck!" I exhaled.

  She applied careful sucking on me and after a couple minutes she drove me to the edge. That was it. Her superb mouth sent me to cloud nine and I came hard. I thought she would pull my cock out and I could watch as it drenched her face and breasts. But, surprisingly, she pressed her manicured nails against my thighs and sucked it with a zealous passion. Like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

  “I guess we’ve still got time for some loving hun,” I said with a well-practised smoothness.

  ****

  ***

  “Thanks.” I said to her as I finished getting dressed and headed down to the lobby for my Limousine.

  She had my phone in her hands and gave me one last kiss on my lips.

  “Goodbye.” I gave her a warm smile.

  She looked at me with longing, biting her lower lip before I turned for the door.

  I unlocked my phone and saw her contact. Dana 202-554-0135. Damn. I was horrible with names. It shocked me just how quick her name slipped had slipped past me when we met. I didn’t have a clue about her name or what she celebrated with her friends when I seduced her. I needed a release from the days’ frustration. And she was magnificent.

  Among my capricious group of friends, there wasn't much interest in a slow paced evening. And I can't even blame them. This is New York City. We shared a love of bars and parties but had no desires of long term relationships. There was no room in my life for a lover. If things had been different… well, I just didn’t have the heart for it anymore.

  *****

  I checked my other messages, and my eyes narrowed when I saw an ominous subject.

  From: Brent Clayton

  Re: Your new life

  Logan,

  It’s been awhile. I was astonished by your news. I didn’t expect that you of all people would accept such a responsibility, especially so early. I had always hoped you would get your act together one day. Though, I would have preferred a personal approach, your mother and I are both happy for you. I had planned meetings but I’ve put them on hold until we’ve met and talked to you about your plans. We’ll be in touch soon.

  My eyelids flicked wide open and I felt like, for a minute, my body froze. I waited until my phone stopped playing a joke on me. But the message stayed on my screen. My parents are coming to New York. I felt a stinging ache in the back of my throat.

  I slapped my right cheek, rubbed my eyes and sat down on the foot of my bed. In sudden surprise, I rooted through my phone and searched my outgoing phone calls - nothing. Then I checked my outgoing messages and gulped when I saw a message addressed to my father.

  Dear father,

  I wanted to tell you the great news. I am the happiest man in the world. The love of my life has confirmed said yes. The details of our wedding are hazy, but we would love it if you could approve of our relationship.

  The headache had returned with a vengeance. What was this madness on my screen. When I got blackout drunk a couple years ago, I had a legendary fistfight, sure I had a lawyer who got me out of trouble. But now I had lied to my Dad.

  I thought back to the events of the day before. Ugh, it was ugly. I was angry as hell. He reprimanded me, he called me lazy, all because I had the audacity to reschedule a business meeting at the last minute. How dare he tell me I'm not taking this business seriously. So, what if he had fifty percent equity that didn't give him the right to nit-pick and criticize my operations. I came here all on your own, off my own choice and built this business. Something must have snapped while I was drinking and I made a horrible, drunken decision.

  As I sank back into my seat, it felt like Hell was raining down on me and this was my fault.

  2

  JESS

  Raindrops splattered on the floor. After working in this bakery for months all the sounds jumbled together: soccer moms asking for more sprinkles on their kids' muffins, or college students camping out in their little spot. They all felt familiar. Startlingly, closing up Sharon’s became a soothing respite after a day that left me drained.

  I brought the chairs up, stacked them on the tables, and moved over to the next table completing the next ones. I worked until the floor was ready to be swept. Beads of perspiration dotted my forehead as I leaned against the counter.

  Then the knocking began. Slowly. Powerfully. Rap. Rap. Rap. Solid knocking echoed from the door and I shot my eyes to the door. Walking to the door, I smiled as I noticed the same familiar black eyebrows as she walked into the coffee shop. Kaitlin, my roommate, came right on time to steal some day old baked goods.

  “Why didn’t you have the store closed? For all you knew I could have been a burglar.”r />
  “Why would a burglar want to rob a bakery shop? There’s a bank on the opposite side of the street.” I shrugged as I strode over and gave her a hug.

  She favored me with a wide grin. “Ha! Wouldn’t that be a sight. A burglar, running down the street, while bagels and muffins are falling out of his pockets. He could even have donuts dropping out of the car as he makes his getaway. Wouldn't that be a hilarious sight.”

  “Yeah, not for me. I have to work here after all.” I shook my head and picked up my trusty mop.

  Sharon’s was one of the best bakery shops in New York city, and it took a lot of convincing to get this job. And even more to keep it. I don’t know what happened but I found myself lost in my sophomore year at college.

  I worked damn hard to complete my double degree in Economics and Biology. And it was fun, I didn’t have much time for a relationship, I spent two years with my face up to my nose in books. Then I felt so drained at the end that I decided it was better for me to take a step back and apply for an internship.

  In truth, the other reason I’m here is because I need this job. Between this and my bar-tending job I'm barely holding down my rent and tuition fees. But I don’t know if I want to maintain this life for another six months, or even a year.

  She moved about the room and settled herself down on top of a recently cleaned table. “When are you done?”

  I tsked in mock disapproval and put on an innocent tone. “I thought you were here to give me support. But you're only here for free day-old bread. twenty minutes. If you’re here, chatting with me? 3 hours, give or take.”

  She beamed a quirky smile and lay on the plump maroon couch by the window. Kaitlin and I adored trolling each other. I could always tell when she was telling a joke, or serious - the fact our sense of humor were so in sync was probably a sign of our strong relationship.

  “You know I’ve got a pair of hands,” she said.

  I gave a half shrug and frowned. “Thanks, but what if my boss made a not-so random appearance?”

  “Isn’t he at a strip club, raining down dollar bills?” She quirked her head.”

  I gave a cold snort, put my hands on my hips and said. “You shouldn’t say that out loud. I swear he turns up whenever someone speaks his name. It's like magic. Besides, rumors spread by people who no longer work here don’t count.”

  “It’s possible.” She said with a light lilt to her voice and gave me a playful lazy grin.

  “I've only heard whispers but he’s only your garden variety mean boss. He's not a monster. Now I need to close up shop and prepare for my interview. But you can help me put the chairs up on the table while I sweep.”

  Kaitlin sighed. "Chairs Jess. Really?"

  After I ate breakfast I rehearsed a couple interview questions. My heart beat with anxiety as the time flew by. Trust me, I know getting a place on the culinary programme is a long shot. But this could be the start of something different. I had a funny feeling in my tummy that I needed to get this out of my system.

  The placement is six months and if I get in hurray, my career will take a massive step forward. A step in a direction I didn’t think possible. Still, that’s if I got in. That and it’ll mean I’ll spend a year away from my friends and family in beautiful and culture rich Munich. Doesn’t that sound fun?

  ****

  My heels thrashed against the pavement, as I weaved through crowds of people. The amount of focus needed to swivel around people while running at top speed was astounding. And I desperately hoped my hair looked fine.

  God. I am so late.

  The hotel came into view. It could see the doors, but it still wasn’t close I. I had to make one final effort. To finish the fight. So, I raced forward.

  I heard my phone's ring tone come alive and felt the anxiety-inducing vibrations. I slowed down for a moment and answered it. “H-hello this is Jess Anders speaking?” I said, trying to hide my breathlessness.

  “Ms Liman,” the calm voice answered. Though it sounded somewhat unclear and distant. “This is Amara Cline. I wanted to reaffirm your attendance.”

  “Mrs Cline! I’m so sorry. I’m just at the hotel. The Radisson, 5th floor. I should have chosen a different route. I got stuck in the worst traffic.”

  She said, stopping me cold. “I wanted to know if you were feeling up to it today. As this is the last round of interviews." She said, stopping me cold.

  "Of course, I'm coming. I'm right outside."

  "If you’re right outside then I will see you very soon." She said and ended the conversation.

  The interviews were taking place over an entire floor at The Radisson. I received an invitation for one last interview and thought my life would turn around. Boy, I was wrong.

  I burst through the lobby and twisted my head, looking for the elevator. I burst past idle guests and bellhops and ran into an elevator whose door was a couple inches away from closing.

  There! Phew that was so close. I’m going to have to be more careful.

  In truth I didn’t even think I would get a reply, but not only did they send an interview invite. My first interviewer had been fascinated by my process and ideas. Now here I stood in front of a 5 star hotel waiting for another interview. If I succeed I will have taken another step forward to my dream. I wanted a bakery I could call my own. No matter who it is, as long as my patrons are hungry, I’ll feed anyone who wishes to eat.

  Before I could raise my hand to the door it swung open.

  “You’re pretty late.” Amara Cline told me. She was a tall woman, looked middle aged with red brown hair. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into her black skirt. Above her chest was a gold brooch pin.

  “I didn't expect the roads from East 11th street onto 4th avenue had closed. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

  I stopped speaking when she gave me an understanding smile and a nod. “Let’s get started, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  I sat down in the chair and rested my hands on the table. We’ll have the interview here.”

  Amara returned to the room. I strode after her, smoothly straightening my hair and patting my clothes. I had to put some effort into my appearance.

  The room was well lit, and in the middle was a table with some paper.

  “Please relax. It'll make this interview easier for both of us. Would you like coffee or water?”

  “No, thank you.”

  I sat down in one of the chairs opposite Amara.

  “Really, Ms Cline,” I began. “I’m sorry for my lateness. I feel so unprepared.”

  Her plump lips looked as if she was stifling a laugh. “These things happen. You’re not the first person to come late, and probably won’t be the last today.”

  An awkward smile appeared on my face. I blinked and remembered the little portfolio in my bag. “I brought some new ideas that I thought you may like to flip through.” I handed her my red idea folder I've been working on for the past year.

  Flipping through my pages, Amara had a serious gleam in her eyes. Against her poker face, there was nothing I could do but hope she was impressed.

  Was she astonished? Bored? Or simply stupefied with amazement.

  “This… portfolio is actually impressive.” She gave a compliment and snapped the folder shut. She slid it back to me across the table. “I saw hard work and passion in your work. The creativity you showed in those side notes are commendable. Like cooking is a part of your life. Even so, I have reservations about your lack of experience.”

  My palms began sweating and I bit the inside of my cheeks. But I came here to give this my all and I knew this wouldn't be easy.

  “I get it. I understand your perspective.” I said. “That’s exactly why I've worked at Sharon's for the past six months. And I've got a feel for the work and work under some amazing chefs."

  Well that was a bit of a half lie. There were excellent chefs at Sharon's. And one in particular. But I worked in the front.

  “I lack experience. I won’t deny that. But you k
now I'm good. I'm confident and, crucially, I will never give up.”

  Amara gave me a considering look and then a couple moments later, managed a tight nod. “I know."

  My eyes widened in excitement and I felt my hands tremble.

  "I’d like to think you’re a perfect match for this course Ms. Anders. But this is a rigorous course, and those students that can't keep up usually don't graduate. Furthermore, you would have to have to move to a completely different continent. But you already knew that." Amara clasped her hands together. and her eyes burned with passion. She took a moment to think about her next words.