My Fake Billionaire Read online

  The main house was beautiful and minimalistically decorated, and the amenities were top notch, as they had to be to qualify for their four-diamond rating. Two barefoot housekeepers in maid aprons greeted us when we stepped into the bedroom. The bed was covered in a floral pattern with pink and yellow rose petals, but it was the view from the window that caught my eye.

  Sea as far as the eyes could survey. It was the most sublime and soothing view, and I couldn’t wait to be alone so I could enjoy it properly.

  “Mr. Knowles, this is Marie and Colette and they are at your service at all times. If you would like anything at all, they will provide it for you,” Mathieu explained, and the two ladies shook my hand and curtsied as if I was freaking royalty.

  I should have come to this island incognito. This was too much. I didn’t need babysitters. I needed privacy.

  Mathieu insisted on showing me the terrace where a pair of chaises longues had been placed in front of the infinity pool that looked as if it was slipping directly into the ocean. There was a fridge, a kitchen island, and a barbeque, as well as a dining table in the downstairs terrace that was as big as the house above. The best part of it all was that it was all completely separated from the rest of the villas and completely private. Bar the maids and the eager bellhop.

  When Mathieu finally left, I took my suit off and asked Marie and Colette if they could get it dry cleaned as I had already sweated way too much in it. The Seychelles weather was not one for suits and I couldn’t be happier about it. As much as I adored a good tailored piece, vacation was all about the sandals, swim shorts, and baking in the sun.

  And while I had to remind myself that this was not so much a vacation but more of a business trip, I couldn’t resist reveling at the prospect of some R&R and recuperation away from the battlefield in New York.

  There were days I wished Mom and Dad would just get on with it and split up officially even if it meant they could never be together and in love again. Our circle would definitely appreciate it. And God knows it would make it so much easier on me.

  I decided to change into my swim shorts and take a dive in the infinity pool, and while the constant presence of Marie and Colette was not ideal, I asked them to cook some lunch for me before letting them take the rest of the day off.

  It took a lot of convincing that I wasn’t going to get them into trouble, that I didn’t need assistance getting my own drinks, and didn’t have any errands for them to run before they decided to obey my orders and sat down with me to share my lunch.

  As it turned out, they were both Seychellois and they were working at the Barefoot Beach Resort to try and raise enough money to go to university. Marie wanted to be a nurse at the main island and Colette had hopes of going into mechanical engineering, although she didn’t know if that would ever happen for her as the world of engineering was still very male-dominated.

  I told them about my studies in business, finance, and advertising and what my life was like back in New York. I told them about my baby, my very own sustainable luxury travel magazine, Stature, and how the idea came about. What they were more impressed about was about the fact that all proceeds went toward building better infrastructure for sustainable practices in developing countries and in research and development.

  When we finished, I helped them clear the table, and I felt as if I’d spent some quality time with close friends. I didn’t get that very often. Connecting with people despite all our differences was the sort of thing that kept my motors running and my passion for what I did alive.

  “We can go, if you’d like to rest, Will,” Marie said when I yawned and tried to hide it behind my hand.

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off? I think I’ll go out for dinner, so I don’t need anything else,” I told them both, and with a curtsy they couldn’t help, they left the villa.

  I laid down on the chaise longue and pulled the e-reader out of my bag to read the latest romantic bestseller before my afternoon nap.

  I wasn’t one to usually lay down in the middle of the day, but as comfortable as the private jet was, it was still flying, and I was still exhausted by the time we'd landed.

  Before I knew what was happening, I heard a loud, melodic chime coming from upstairs, and I opened my eyes to find my e-reader on the verge of falling off my chest and crashing on the floor, and a very large, very white, and definitely very pretty butterfly taking off from where it must have been sitting unaware on my stomach and start to flutter around my head.

  The bell chimed again and I jumped out of the couch and onto my feet, then ran up the stairs to answer the door.

  The man I'd seen earlier at reception, the blond vision I couldn't resist staring at, was standing at the door, his eyes darting all over my body before he looked up to my face and his cheeks turned bright red. Before I could even ask him what on Earth he was doing here, he pulled my hand and dragged me out of the house. When we were far enough from the villa to come back to my senses, I also got my voice back.

  “Can I help you?” I asked him.

  “Mr. Jones needs you. I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and I really need your help to calm him down. He’s about to have a panic attack because the paperbacks he was supposed to sign haven’t arrived yet, and now he thinks your contract is in tatters,” he replied, and he might as well have been speaking Swahili because I didn’t understand a word coming out of his mouth.

  I stopped walking, and as we were still linked, he stopped in his tracks too.

  “Who is Mr. Jones, and why do I need to calm him down?” I asked.

  The man narrowed his eyes and put both hands on his hips.

  “Bryn Jones. Your author,” he said as if it should be common knowledge.

  “And who might you think I am?”

  “You’re Oswald Tennessee from Tennessee Press, aren’t you?” he said.

  I grinned.

  “You think I look like an Oswald? Fuck me, I need to have a word with my stylist,” I told him.

  The man puckered his lips and dropped his hands.

  “Oh God! You’re not Bryn’s publisher, are you?”

  I shook my head and smiled.

  “I don’t even know who Bryn is,” I replied. “Or you, for that matter.”

  I hoped he would get that I wanted his name, but he decided to apologise instead.

  “That should teach me for knocking on people’s doors and dragging them out butt-naked,” he said.

  “Wait, you can see my butt? Am I wearing my invisible shorts again?” I asked and pretended to try to look behind me, making the guy laugh.

  “You know what I mean. Although in my defense, it was my manager’s fault. She said Oswald was in the last villa down this way. I’m so sorry. I feel so embarrassed,” he said. “I’ll get out of your hair and leave you alone now.”

  He turned around to leave, but I wasn’t done with him.

  “I think, considering you dragged me out of my room, you can at least walk me back there,” I said, and he paused.

  “That’s like four steps away,” he replied, and then seemed to regret it because he shook his head.

  “Yes, but that will make you a run-in for a gentleman again.”

  A trace of a grin appeared on his face, and he walked me back to my door.

  “That’s more like it,” I told him once I was back at my doorstep. “We should do this again some time. Only, maybe find a better name to give me. Oswald is so... ancient.”

  “Again, I’m really sorry. I’m so embarrassed. It won’t happen again,” he said and pursed his lips. “I should go.”

  He turned his back to me again and started to walk away.

  “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I find one for you?” I asked him before I changed my mind.

  The guy turned his head and smiled, his cheeks turning red again.

  “It’s Denver.”

  Pretty name. Just like its owner.

  4

  Denver

  I wasn�
�t sure if I should feel happy that I’d bumped into the sexy stranger again or mortified that I’d basically dragged him out of his luxury villa in a case of mistaken identity.

  And now he was throwing me another one of those smiles that had the ability to make me stupid, which was something I most definitely could not afford right now.

  “See you around, Oswald,” I said, turning around again and running back to the lobby to find out where exactly the real Oswald was staying.

  The rest of the day didn’t allow much time to think about the stranger, who I was now calling Ozzie in my head because I’d failed to get a name back. He’d been right, though. He was definitely not an Oswald.

  If Ozzie looked tall, dark, handsome, and dangerously good-looking, Oswald was a walking contradiction. The man was short, pudgy, and there was something about him I seriously disliked. Maybe it was his expectation that I should treat him like a major celebrity and bend over backwards for him, or maybe it was that his eyes on me made me feel like I needed to scrub my body clean. I couldn’t quite decide.

  It made absolutely no sense how a lovely man like Bryn Jones would work with such a horrible publisher, especially when he’d already made a name for himself, but I guessed it wasn’t for me to judge.

  By the time I crawled into bed after midnight, I was still on a high. Helen and the resort manager had been more than impressed by the author reading and signing with Bryn. The very last thought that teased my sleepy brain was Ozzie’s piercing black eyes and the smile on his lips that I wanted to believe had been just for me and not something he gave often.

  I was starting to wonder if Saint Louis had magical powers because despite my late night, I still woke up in time to enjoy the sunrise. I’d had to rush and missed the chance to make myself a coffee, but I’d made it onto the beach with my blanket around my shoulders and notebook in hand. Maybe today was the day the words would magically materialize.

  When I approached my spot, I saw a figure sitting on the sand. I’d rarely seen any of the resort guests up this early in the morning. Sometimes I’d see a couple, still dressed in their city clothes, taking a walk on the beach, but I’d never see them again.

  I walked to a spot further up the beach until the figure turned and made me stop in my tracks for the second time in less than a day.

  “Denver.”

  His voice was like expensive whisky. Deep, mellow, and inviting.

  “Ozzie, hi,” I said, pulling my blanket tighter. Was it a cooler morning than usual or was it Ozzie’s eyes on me causing the shiver to run down my spine?

  “Please, sit with me,” he said.

  I did as he asked, sitting next to him on the sand, both of us facing the ocean. The slowly changing colors on the horizon captured my attention until he spoke again.

  “Ozzie?”

  I looked at him to see an amused look.

  I felt my face heat up. “Um... yeah, I didn’t get your name yesterday so I kinda named you Ozzie in my head. You don’t look like an Oswald.”

  Shut the fuck up Denver. And this was why I needed coffee first thing in the morning. Considering my filter tended to malfunction around this guy, I’d better get an extra strong one later.

  “I like Ozzie, but maybe we should stick to my real name to avoid any further confusion. I’m Will.”

  He stretched his hand out to me and I took it. His hold was gentle but firm and his skin was warm. He traced a circle with his thumb on the back of my hand, and I shivered again.

  “Are you cold?”

  His eyes locked with mine. All I could do was shake my head and pull the blanket tighter with my spare hand.

  “What are you going here?” I blurted.

  He took his hand back but kept the eye contact.

  “I’m on vacation. Isn’t that what people do here?” he smirked.

  I looked away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see the redness I was pretty sure would be covering my face from how embarrassed I was. What are you doing here? Really?

  “How about you? You work here.”

  “Yes, I run the library and bookstore,” I said.

  “You’re the Barefoot Librarian?”

  The awe in his voice made me look at him again. His eyes were as wide as his smile.

  “I love your blog,” he said.

  “I’ve only been writing it for a few weeks, so you’ve probably read my predecessor’s posts rather than mine,” I said. I got the same reaction a lot.

  The previous Librarian had been talented, so people always looked a little disappointed when they met me instead.

  “I know it’s changed. You can tell the difference. I absolutely love your voice. Don’t get me wrong, the other guy was good, but you have a way with words that he”—He looked me in the eyes and paused for a moment—“lacked.”

  Will laughed. “By the look on your face, I take it you don’t hear that often,” he said.

  “I’ve only been doing it for a couple of weeks.”

  “Yes, you said. My opinion still stands.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I didn’t need a watch to know it was time to open the library, so I stood up, folded my blanket, and took the notepad from where it lay, unopened on the sand.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, and it was my turn to laugh.

  “Unlike you, I’m not on vacation. See you around, Ozzie.”

  He smiled and got up, too, but went in the opposite direction. I smiled all the way to the library. Today the sun had risen on Will’s eyes, and it had been mesmerizing.

  There were no deliveries waiting for me, so I turned the computer on to work on the blog.

  “That’s a big smile on your face, I hope you were thinking of me.”

  The voice was like an ice bath after coming out of a steam room. It pierced my skin with the strength of a thousand daggers.

  “Paul, what are you doing here?”

  I tried my best to keep my breathing even and controlled, which wasn’t easy when I was suddenly faced with my ex-boyfriend.

  “Denny, baby, is that a way to greet your boyfriend?”

  “Ex, Paul. Ex-boyfriend. With an extra serving of ex, with an ex on top,” I said.

  His face fell for a second.

  “Denny, I came all the way here for you.” His voice was like melted butter. Once upon a time, I’d have loved it. That was before what he’d done.

  “I didn’t ask you to come. To be honest, I don’t know why you’d even come here.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, Paul laughed. No, actually cackled. And I stared at him until he grew a pair and behaved like an adult.

  “As if I’d come all this way for you,” he said, and my face dropped.

  I wanted to tell him to go away, to leave me alone and fuck off back to his current conquest, but my words seemed to have abandoned me. That was, until the door opened and I saw Will with coffee at hand and then my smile returned.

  He came in with two cups and a small paper bag, a skip in his step.

  “Hey,” he said, “I brought you coffee and breakfast.”

  “Who are you?” Paul spat.

  Will frowned and looked at me. I couldn’t even meet his gaze. Paul had a way of making me feel like I couldn’t look anyone in the eyes. He was over the top and downright rude, unless he needed something.

  “Will, this is my ex-boyfriend. He shouldn’t be here, so he was just leaving,” I said.

  “What do you mean I shouldn’t be here? I can go anywhere I want,” Paul said to me, and then he turned back to Will. “And who are you?”

  Frustration rose in my chest. Paul had always been impatient and relentless when it came to what he wanted. And apparently, he really wanted to know who Will was.

  To my surprise, Will stretched his hand out, and, with a calm and self-assured voice, said,“I’m William Montgomery Knowles the third, Denver’s boyfriend. I can’t say I’ve heard much about you.”

  Paul’s eyes bugged out as he gawked at Will, “You? You
are the Will Knowles?”

  “That’s what my parents and business associates call me. I tend to go by Ozzie,” he said and winked at me.

  I was at a loss for words because clearly Will was someone important. And not only was he important, he’d also declared himself as my boyfriend. The words woke up a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my belly.

  Paul looked at me with a disgusted face.

  “You? With William Knowles? Is this a fucking joke?”

  “Is there a problem here?” Will asked and stepped in front of Paul, and despite their similar size, Will looked far more superior than my asshole of an ex.

  “No. No problem,” he stuttered and glanced at me.

  “We’ll talk later. I’m not done talking with you,” he said before he turned on his heel and left the library.

  I glared at Will.

  “What the... just happ... what?”

  5

  Will

  Denver could have easily been mistaken for a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes had bulged wide open and looked from me to the closed door of the bookshop for a few seconds before finally settling on me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  “What happened? What did you just do?” He answered with a question of his own.

  I’d just blurted out the first thing that came to my mouth. I had no idea why I’d said I was his boyfriend, and not only do that, but also the way I’d introduce myself, but it was done and there was no way I could take it back. And I didn’t know if I wanted to either. For a few moments, it’d been nice to imagine what all the what-ifs with this talented man would be like.