Making It While Faking It Read online

  “That’s one month,” Xan says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  Achilles tilts his head in my direction without looking at me. “That will give her the appropriate number of days to grieve.”

  “I’m not grieving over Simon,” I say past my tight throat.

  We’re staring into each other’s eyes, and my breaths feel craggy until I let my gaze fall to my lap. Why does he make me feel this way?

  “All right then, four weeks.” Xan rubs his palms together. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

  “Wait,” I say, holding my hand up. I’ve been wanting to know something since I accepted to go through with this charade. I face Achilles. “What do you get out of this?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Achilles retorts in what seems to be his normal hissing voice.

  Wow. He really doesn’t like me. Actually, his tone stings a little. But I dare not show it.

  “Why not?” I ask, refusing to back down. “I’ll be your wife. So what’s yours will be mine and vice versa.” I smirk because I’m screwing with him. He’s such an asshole, why not have some fun with it?

  He snorts bitterly and then readjusts in his seat. “Our benefit has to do with the Lord family trust.”

  The fact that he answered my question renders me speechless for moment. I turn my surprised expression away from Achilles Lords’s spectacular face to look at Xan. “All right, then,” I say, sounding winded. With one quick cough, I clear my throat. “We should continue. I have a lot to do today too.”

  “Like what?” Achilles blurts.

  I’m not the only one who’s looking at Achilles with surprise. Nobody expected him to ask me that. It appears as if he’s trying to mask his own shock as well. His question was definitely a slip of the tongue.

  “Like, a lot,” I say, folding my arms on my chest defiantly.

  “Just be careful,” Achilles warns.

  “Wow,” I let out with a harsh laugh. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

  Again, he frowns at me as though I’m the sole reason for his crappy life. What in the hell does that look mean? “I don’t know you, Miss Grove. Therefore, I cannot dislike you.”

  My lips won’t move. But my brain shouts, You asshole. He doesn’t know me? I want to mention how he ranted and raved like a lunatic after catching me and Orion together years ago. We were just teenagers. He could have been less of an asshole about it. “And by the way, never have I ever been or will I ever be a debutante,” I say, remembering he called me that way back when.

  We suddenly become engaged in an epic staring battle. I refuse to be the first to look away.

  Xan claps his hands loudly enough that we mutually break eye contact. “Let’s focus,” my uncle says. But I know Xan very well. He’s studying us both, wondering what in the hell just happened. And it’s evident that he doesn’t like our exchange at all, not in the least.

  Finally, it’s time. I’m so close to the money, I can taste it. A lawyer brings in the contracts. His name is Clive. He’s young and handsome and he never fails to look at me with flirtatious eyes. Halfway through the ritual of handing the pen to Achilles so that he can sign and date and then hand it back to me, I remember that Clive is the lawyer who went on a date with Paisley. At least I now understand why he’s so flirtatious. Paisley and I resemble each other. He probably sees me as a second shot at her, but that will never happen. Despite the obvious—I’m signing a contract to marry another man—Paisley and I never date each other’s exes, and that includes guys who were once interested in one of us.

  The stack of documents to sign seems to go on forever as Clive explains the significance of each. I think the exercise feels so arduous because Achilles is too close. His body heat warming my backside is having a dizzying effect on me. There’s no way in the world Achilles Lord should be making me feel this way.

  Then, our fingers brush during a transfer of the pen. Giddy energy rises up my arm, captures my heart, and takes a nosedive down to my core. However, I play it off as if I feel nothing. But Achilles must’ve felt it too, because his fixed grimace intensifies as he asks Xander for his own “writing instrument.”

  What the fuck?

  Who calls a pen a “writing instrument,” anyway? Nope. I’m done with jerks, and he’s a jerk. I’d rather screw the happy-go-lucky and super-nice Ronald McDonald than Achilles Lord. Keeping that in mind, I put a mental wall between him and me, knowing that although we’ll be married in four weeks, I will not have to see or talk to him for the duration of our nuptials. Then I’ll divorce him, and we’ll never have to think about each other ever again. What a prick!

  Breaking the News

  ACHILLES LORD

  I pace my office floor like a caged bull. Rarely do I let my nerves get the better of me. It’s been three days since I’ve seen Treasure Grove. I don’t remember her being so drop-dead gorgeous. I stop to touch my eyebrow as I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn. She’s not even my type. She strikes me as irresponsible and flighty. Who in the hell shows up to sign important documents wearing faded blue jeans? Bell-bottoms? Is this the seventies? That was unprofessional of her.

  But the way her jeans cradled her ass…

  The mounds of honey-brown hair pinned loosely on the top of her head, drawing attention to her pretty heart-shaped face… I didn’t know she had a smattering of freckles across her nose. It’s cute. She’s cute. And her lips…

  “Shit.”

  I flex my fingers as if grabbing at the air. I don’t like being anxious, and thinking about her makes me anxious. I’ve been wishing I would’ve made Orion step up to the plate and do something for the family for once. I could’ve ridden his ass all the way to the finish line. But it’s too late to back out now. I’ll have to keep my distance from Treasure Grove. I have no doubt she will stay far away from me.

  Why did she give me so much attitude anyway?

  And I called her a debutante?

  I don’t remember that. “Debutante” isn’t even in my vocabulary. When I found her and Orion in bed together in the manor on our grandfather’s private island in Nova Scotia, admittedly, I was incensed. But my anger was directed at my brother, not her. She was the injured party, caught up in Orion’s dark allure.

  “Shit.” I did call her a debutante. I rub the back of my neck. “She remembers that?”

  Finally, Orion blows into my office as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Remember what?” He plops down on my sofa, spreading his arm across the top, legs wide, slouching.

  Glowering at him, I take full responsibility for his blasé attitude. I, and a host of other enablers, have been picking up his slack for far too long.

  “You’re twenty-three minutes late,” I grumble.

  He spreads his legs wider and humps the air with his crotch. “I had business to take care of. I’ll be a married man soon. So I had to sew some wild oats.”

  His grin is salacious. No wonder Treasure Grove doesn’t want anything to do with him. I don’t know her that well, but judging from the way she carries herself, she’s too good for him.

  I slap the top of my desk and snap, “Sit the fuck up.” I wanted to take a more sympathetic approach with him, but he’s making that impossible

  He slowly gives me the posture I want him to have. “What the fuck, Achilles?”

  I shake my head, gradually bringing my anger under control. The sight of him sitting in front of me without a care in the world while lazily waiting to hear that he’s going to be given the ultimate prize annoys the hell out of me. I’m worried all the damn time. He’s never worried. I carry the weight of this family on my shoulders. And he sucks us dry. But he’s still my brother and I love him. That’s why I’ve been stressing about telling him that I’m the one who’s going to marry Treasure Grove. The news isn’t going to go down easy.

  I stretch my neck from side to side. The act fails to relieve the tension in my shoulders. It’s time to get it over with.

  “We heard back from Treasure Gr
ove,” I say.

  His lips hike up into a smirk as he flagrantly grabs his cock. Treasure’s not here to see him but I’m offended for her. “Oh, I can’t wait. I’m going to be good to her, Achilles, real good to her.”

  I snort like an angry bull. “Why the hell are you grabbing your cock?” I want to slap some manners into him. “The way you’re behaving is the reason she refuses to marry you.”

  Orion’s eyebrows quirk up, holding for a moment before dropping way low. “What do you mean she’s refusing to marry me? Who the fuck is she going to marry if not me?”

  I stop biting down hard on my back teeth to say, “I’m marrying her.”

  He flies to his feet. “What?”

  “It’s because she wants nothing to do with you.” I point at him like I want to poke his eye out. “And it’s your fault. Look at how you walked in here, thrusting your cock in the air and shit.”

  Mouth agape and face suddenly drained of blood, he looks like I stole his lunch money. I’m sort of surprised by this reaction of his. They hadn’t been together since they were eighteen or nineteen. Unless they got together again between then and now. That would make sense. The older and wiser Treasure got a taste of his bullshit. But I love him, and I feel sorry for him. Shit, he looks like he’s about to pass out.

  “Just sit back down,” I say.

  He slowly, carefully does as I ask.

  “Maybe I can talk to her,” he says. “Sometimes, I like to push her buttons. But I’ll let her know I won’t do that.”

  I’m shocked he’s fighting for her. If she knew it, I wonder if she’d change her mind. But it doesn’t matter any longer.

  “You can’t talk to her,” I say tightly and then clear my throat.

  “Why not?”

  I sit on the edge of my desk. In my mind, I see Treasure and I signing the contract. Her standing too damn close. I wanted things from her that I’ve always had complete control over. My hand wanted to touch her perfectly round ass. My lips wanted to brush against the soft skin of her neck. Then there was her sweet scent. I’m probably one of a few men in the world who’s able to control his cock. I tell it when to get hard. I let it get hard. As a strong-minded individual, I mastered the skill. Treasure Grove made me hard, and I couldn’t control it. That spooks the hell out of me. Give me enough time away from her, and I’ll forget she exists.

  “The contracts have been signed and submitted,” I say, short of breath. “The suitor can’t be changed, or we risk sinking the deal.”

  Orion is watching me, reading me. I remain cool, calm, and collected under the force of his scrutiny.

  “When?” he demands to know.

  I circle my shoulders—shit, they’re tight. “Three days ago.”

  He narrows an eye. “And you’re just now telling me?”

  I press my lips tighter. I don’t owe him an explanation. He fucking does what I say—that’s his explanation.

  “Did you see her?” he asks, still eyeing me suspiciously.

  I bite down hard on my back teeth as hostility rises in my throat. “Sure. Why do you ask?” My tone could freeze lava.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I don’t say anything.

  “She’s got that quality. And yeah, fucking her was everything you imagine it could be. Because I know you imagine it, don’t you?”

  My eyes narrow to slits. I’m more angry because he’s right.

  Orion lets out a hostile laugh.

  “What?” I bark.

  My brother coolly rises to his feet. “Nothing. Is that all?”

  I don’t know—the way he’s acting unsettles me. He’s planning to do something stupid. He’s in fight mode—the kind where you don’t see him coming.

  “Don’t make contact with her, and you know why,” I barely say.

  He snorts bitterly and then walks to the doorway but stops before leaving my office. Without facing me, he says, “I never thought you and I would have something in common. But I want her. And I’m going to get her.”

  I pound my fist on the top of my desk. Shit. My knuckles sting, but I welcome the pain. “Stay the fuck away from her,” I boom. “If you fuck this up, then you’re going to lose everything, because I’m going to take it all from you.”

  He turns, and our eyes are locked and loaded on each other. He knows I mean business. Hell, I know it too.

  “I will stop every dollar of the Lord trust from entering your bank account if you ruin this opportunity for us,” I say tightly.

  Gradually, the hard look in his eyes diminishes and his mouth slackens. I can tell that he wants to plead his case to have Treasure Grove yet again. I actually feel sorry for him. I’m certain he doesn’t love her, though. Orion is incapable of that. I often wonder where it went wrong with him—why does he insist on being a fuckup?

  Regardless of how angry he’s made me, I feel sorry for him. “Orion,” I say, wanting to clean up this tragic moment we’re having. But my voice falters, and he walks out, leaving me and the explanation I’m unable to give him behind.

  Reopening Night

  TREASURE GROVE

  28 DAYS LATER

  Tonight is a celebration. The song slithering through the air like a hypnotizing fog is Joon Neon’s I Want More. I haven’t danced all night, because I’ve been making sure my guests are happy and impressed by my restaurant’s new face, new mood, new attitude, and new name. Instead of The Chest of Chelsea or the shortened version that I hated, TCC, it’s now just Treasures. There’s no shortening that name.

  And yes, my guests are very, very, very impressed.

  I’ve shaken hundreds of hands, given boatloads of hugs, smiled so much that my cheeks ache. I’m all out of business cards. Everybody wants to make reservations ASAP. I would say the night has been a huge success.

  I inhale deeply through my nostrils, drinking it in. The smell of newness is such a potent aphrodisiac. My hazy gaze roams the expanse. My restaurant has been renovated from top to bottom. Long gone are my stabs at adding modern touches to those original art deco design elements from the Roaring Twenties. That was my way of renovating on the cheap. I could never get rid the stench of aged time, not until now—the odor is gone. Everything in my establishment is new and improved.

  My interior designer Kelly and I went all-out modern contemporary while being careful not to forsake warmth and intimacy. I’m proud of the chrome circles plastered across the ceiling of this room. There are hundreds of them, each expelling subtle orange light. And encircling the dance floor are two stories of balcony seating. There’s not an empty table tonight. My guests laugh, talk, drink, and some canoodle. Everyone is having a blast.

  I was able to expand the square footage and add this new extension by purchasing the spaces on both sides of my business. They weren’t for sale, but I offered the owners prices they couldn’t refuse. This side will be used to accommodate high-end parties. The walls are soundproof to keep the noise contained. On the opposite side of the main restaurant, I added a casual cocktail lounge for more intimate gatherings. For smooth operating, I hired five times the previous number of staff, which includes a full-time accounting department and a promotions and marketing team. We all worked together to make tonight’s grand reopening the success that it is.

  My eyes pick out my A-list guests one by one—Ray Black, Carol Neilly, Chuck Bourne, the Nagasaki sisters, Kurt Tolle, Andrew Mates, Stella Meier… the list goes on and on. The only people missing are my cousin Paisley and her new husband and my future brother-in-law, Hercules Lord. Thinking about Paisley not being here makes my heart hurt. I could have seen her on Sunday night. Our family is having a mandatory dinner at her parents’ house in Greenwich, Connecticut. But I’ve already made my decision—I’m not attending. I’ll just pretend that I had forgotten all about it. Plus, I’ve been working nonstop for a month. Since this morning, I’ve felt it in my body. I need to rest.

  Paisley would’ve shown up tonight, but she and Hercules are in Mumbai. She says it’s bus
iness-related and swore me to secrecy, which is code for whatever she’s doing in Mumbai is going to drive her brother Max crazy, crazier than he already is. I invited Max, too, but I’m not expecting him to show up. Even though my cousin annoys the hell out of me with his nitpicking and controlling ways, he is the ungettable get of the century. If he miraculously shows up, his appearance will be reported in every entertainment magazine in the country. The headline will read something like: The hottest billionaire tech bachelor on the planet was out for a rare night on the town at his cousin’s hot new restaurant. The mention will be premium promotion and achieved for free.

  Come on, Max, show up.

  Aware that he has an unrequited crush on a friend of mine named Lake Clark, I added a special note at the bottom of his invitation saying that she will be in the house tonight.

  Speaking of Lake, the night is nearly over, and she hasn’t shown up either. The corners of my mouth pull down a bit as my heart processes her absence, too, until right on cue, I hear a familiar voice trumpet, “Treasure Chest!”

  That’s her.

  I spin around so quickly my head dizzies. And there is my beautiful new friend, quickly closing the distance between us.

  When we are in each other’s embrace, we hug like our lives depend on this one moment of coming together again. I absolutely love Lake. She was Paisley’s friend first, but now she’s mine too. She’s a natural addition to my constantly growing circle of good girlfriends.

  “Your dress,” she croons approvingly as we hold hands and lean back to get a good look at each other’s outfits. Our tastes are oddly similar—sort of artsy chic but sexy and classy with pops of the extraordinary here and there.

  “And we didn’t plan this.” My voice rises over the music.

  I’m wearing a delicate powder-blue silk halter cocktail dress that touches my body like a sensual kiss. Lake’s dress is the exact same color as mine, only hers is strapless and the bodice is made of latex and the skirt is composed of layers of tarlatan fabric. In addition, we’re both wearing gold shoes! Mine are gold spiked-heel Christian Louboutins, and hers are encrusted with gold. I’m not sure who makes them, but they look stunning.