Fake It: A Fake Fiancée Romance Read online

  “I’m very well, thank you. Listen, Mr. Smithfield had a family emergency come up, so he won’t be able to make the meeting that’s set for this afternoon. He could, however, meet earlier, and he gave me a list of possible times.” She holds out a sheet of paper.

  I take the paper and look it over, immediately annoyed because while I really need to sign him on as a client, I still need the morning to prepare for our meeting. I swallow down my annoyance as I look over the times—all for today, all before lunch. I laugh and look back at the woman I’m already picturing bending over my desk. “Is this all? We can’t meet tomorrow or even later this week?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Mr. Smithfield’s daughter has gone into labor two weeks early. As you know, they are a very close-knit family, and he refuses to miss the birth of a grandchild. His flight home leaves at five this evening, so if you want to keep the meeting, it will have to be during one of those times.”

  I bite my inner cheek. “Very well, then. Tell him to swing by at whatever time best suits his needs. I’ll clear my morning for him.”

  The elevator rings and the doors open.

  She smiles and takes back the paper. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. Mr. Smithfield is looking forward to the meeting.”

  I nod my head. “And I am as well,” I assure her, stepping off the elevator. I stand there with a smile, making it obvious I’m checking her out until the doors close and cover her blushing cheeks. Then I spin around and rush up to Madison, my receptionist.

  “Call Michael and Daniel, and tell them that the important meeting has been moved up to this morning. They need to get here NOW so we can prepare.”

  She nods. “I will, sir.”

  I step into my office and walk directly to the drink cart, pouring a glass of Scotch. Who gives a damn about the time? My whole career rests on this one client. I have to land it, not only for my firm, but for myself as a lawyer. Plus, one little glass to take the edge off won’t hurt.

  I tip the glass back and swallow down the smooth liquid. The phone on my desk rings, and I rush to answer it. Setting the now-empty glass on the corner of my desk, I pick up the phone and flop down in my desk chair.

  “Styles,” I answer.

  “Cameron, it’s Michael, and I’m dialing Daniel now for a conference call.”

  The line beeps and Daniel joins the line. “What’s this I hear about the meeting being moved up?” Daniel asks.

  “His daughter is in labor, cutting his time here in Chicago short. He’s leaving for Georgia this evening. Can you two make it here in time?” I ask, looking at my watch.

  “Cameron, you knew I wasn’t going to be able to make this appointment at all. I’m clear across the country,” Michael says.

  I shake my head. “Fuck, I completely forgot about you being in Washington. What about you, Daniel?”

  He lets out a deep breath. “I was just about to start packing up to be there this afternoon. No way I can be there any sooner. If the meeting is still going on when I land, I’ll swing by wherever you two are, but I’m sorry, man. You’re going to have to do this one on your own.”

  I roll my neck, causing it to pop, but it feels a little better and helps to relieve some stress. “Great,” I mumble. “So what happened to, ‘We need to land this client. We have to do everything we can to get this client. All hands on deck for this one, boys’?” I quote everything they’ve both said about Smithfield.

  “You know how important this client is to our firm, Cameron. We’re not taking this lightly, but what can we do? Neither of us is even in the same state as you right now. You can do this on your own,” Michael says.

  “Yeah, you’re a fucking shark and you know it,” Daniel adds on. “I’ve seen you take on more and you’ve always come through for us, pal. Just have a drink, sit back, and relax. We know you’ve got this.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a deep breath. “I know I can do it; that isn’t my concern. I just wanted a little support is all, and a way to showcase the powerhouse that this firm is with all three managing partners here.” I lift my hand to pick up my glass, only to realize that it’s empty. It falls back to my lap.

  “Keep us updated, Cam. And don’t doubt yourself. You’re better than the two of us put together,” Daniel says.

  “Will do,” I mumble, hanging up the phone.

  I stand and quickly pour another glass of Scotch before moving back to my desk to review the case files. I stare at the glass but decide against it and pour it down the drain. I need my wits one hundred percent intact for this one. Self-doubt isn’t something I struggle with, but what I lack in morals, Daniel has in spades. A family man with three daughters, he was going to be the ace up my sleeve to show Mr. Smithfield our firm shares his values.

  An hour later, my phone rings, and I answer it to find Madison on the phone, announcing Mr. Smithfield’s arrival.

  “Send him in, please,” I tell her before hanging up the phone and standing. I button my jacket and start for the door. Before I can reach it, it opens and Mr. Smithfield walks in with a big smile and his hand held out.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Styles.”

  I slide my hand into his to shake. “Of course, Mr. Smithfield. How are you doing today? Has Chicago been treating you well?”

  He nods. “It’s been a lovely trip, but I can’t wait to get home. I miss the warmth and comfort of the South, and I hate being away from my wife for this long.” I can hear the Southern drawl on his tongue.

  I motion toward my desk. “Well then, let’s get started, shall we?”

  He sits down and I take my place on the opposite side. “Before we start, can I have Madison get you anything? Coffee, tea, water, a snack perhaps?”

  He laughs. “No, thank you.” He sits back and crosses his legs. “Actually, I’ve looked over all the paperwork you sent over and I think you’d be the perfect lawyer for us. I do have one concern though.”

  My eyes pop up to his. “What’s that?”

  For a second, he seems like he’s still deciding whether or not he even wants to bring it up. “As you know, my company is a wholesome family-owned and operated business. We treat each employee like family. We have a reputation to uphold and protect. We are a household name.”

  I nod. “Of course,” I agree.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “We’re very picky about who we do business with, Mr. Styles.” His eyes flash from his phone, to me, and back. “You see, we don’t want to hire someone who doesn’t have beliefs similar to our own, and I’m worried that the press will get their hands on this and make it look like our beliefs match yours.” He leans forward and hands me the phone.

  I take it and look at the image on the screen. It’s a picture of me leaving a nightclub with a woman on each arm. The article makes it seem like I’m some rich playboy who does nothing but drink and sleep with women.

  I hand the phone back. “First of all, Mr. Smithfield, that article was a part of a smear campaign from a rival firm’s attorney. I was fighting against him in a big case, and he knew he was going to lose. He hired his own photographer to bombard me. He had the article written and then paid smaller publications and online magazines to publish it. And I have no problem with sending out a statement if this is ever brought to light. I assure you, my values match yours.”

  He frowns. “While what you’re telling me about the article may be true, a picture doesn’t lie, Mr. Styles. Is this not you?” He flips the phone around.

  “It is,” I agree with a nod of my head. “But it’s not me anymore. Look at the date on that article. It’s from four years ago. I was just a kid then. I was fresh out of law school, and between you and me, I had more opportunities available to me than any young man needed. Yes, I made mistakes, but I assure you, I have grown and matured since that article.”

  He turns off the phone and places it back into his jacket pocket. “Is that so? Tell me, how is your life different from what it was that night? Have you gotten
married or settled down with one woman?”

  Fuck my life. Why does this matter so much to him? “I haven’t gotten married, but…” An idea hits me and I go with it before actually thinking it through. “I am getting married. I’m engaged, actually.”

  His eyes widen and light up with happiness and surprise. “You are? That’s wonderful news! Congratulations.” He leans forward and shakes my hand.

  I smile and nod. “Thank you.”

  His phone rings, and he quickly pulls it back out and looks at the screen. He holds up a finger and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  I sit back in my chair to wait patiently.

  “You did? That’s great. I might not miss it after all. Thank you.” He hangs up and then directs his attention back to me.

  “Listen, Mr. Styles, my assistant managed to get me an earlier flight home, so I’m going to have to cut this meeting short. But how about you fly down to Georgia next week? Bring your future wife and make a nice little vacation out of it. We can meet up and go over the rest of my concerns then.” He stands. “You can even stay with my family and me. I have a guest house, so you’ll have plenty of privacy. And it will give us the time we need to make sure we’re a good fit for each other. How does that sound?” he asks, standing up.

  I stand up, unsure of what to say. I can’t exactly decline his offer. We need him as a client. But can I accept? What about my soon-to-be wife? What can I even do about that? Hire someone?

  “Sure, why not?” I reply, raising my hand to shake.

  He beams a wide smile. “Wonderful. I’ll have my assistant book your flights and send over everything you’ll need. After messing with your schedule today, everything is on me. I insist.”

  I smile and nod. “Thank you, Mr. Smithfield.”

  He heads for the door in a hurry, leaving me alone. I flop back into my chair. “Fuck, why did I say that stupid shit?” I ask myself quietly.

  I had already cleared my afternoon for our meeting, and when I agreed to meet with him sooner, I cleared my morning. I literally have nothing scheduled for the rest of the day.

  I stand and leave the office. “Madison, I’m taking off for the day. Please take messages for me and forward anything important to my cell.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Styles,” Madison replies as I push myself toward the elevator.

  Chapter Three

  Samantha

  I quickly clock out and grab my things before nearly running to the door. No way am I volunteering for another extra shift this week. I’ve already pulled in an extra eight hours of double time and my body feels like I’ve done nothing but run around a mosh pit all week. Every muscle is sore. My eyes are tired and strained. I would kill for a night out—a night where I don’t have to worry about money or stress about bills. Just a night to have fun and enjoy myself.

  “Sam!” someone shouts behind me.

  I almost don’t turn around, but then I do at the last second. I’m surprised to see Kenneth running up to me, aka Dr. McSexy…yeah, that’s my secret nickname for him. It’s so fitting that his name is Ken; he looks like he should be on Barbie’s arm.

  I smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

  He comes to a stop directly in front of me. “I was wondering what you’re doing tonight.”

  I shrug, trying to act cool as butterflies dance in my stomach. “No plans. Another quiet night at home, I guess.”

  He grins and it causes his blue eyes to light up. “Well, umm, I was actually wondering if you’d like to go out? Some of the staff are getting together tonight to have some fun and blow off some steam. We’re going to hit up Marcel’s for dinner and then go to a club for dancing and drinks or whatever. What do you say?” His smile hasn’t left his face, and it makes my heart pound in my chest at the thought of going on a date with him. Then again, he did say this was a staff thing, so maybe he’s not asking me on a date.

  “I’d love to, but—” I start.

  “It’s on me. Dinner and drinks. Come on. I see you around here. You work your ass off. Come have some fun.” He cocks his head to the side, like he’s secretly challenging me.

  I laugh. “All right,” I agree, mostly because I’d love to get to know him better, but also because I’m in dire need of a drink or two to forget how shitty life has been to me lately.

  “Awesome. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

  “Sounds good. Here, give me your number and I’ll text you my address.” I unlock my phone and hand it over.

  He quickly does so, and when he hands it back, his hand brushes mine. It shoots a spark through my hand and up my arm, causing a warming sensation to spread throughout my body, and judging from his grin, he did it on purpose.

  “See ya later,” I breathe out.

  He offers up one last smile and a wave before turning and walking away. I can’t hold back the happiness that courses through me as I push my way out of the hospital and down the street. All thoughts of my financial crises have completely vanished for a brief moment.

  On my walk home, I pull out my phone and call El.

  “Hello?” she answers.

  “Oh my God. You’ll never guess who just asked me out!” I practically screech into the phone. “Or maybe you could since we just talked about it.”

  She laughs and cheers. “The hot doctor?”

  “Yes!” I nearly scream, jumping up and down as I walk down the sidewalk.

  “That’s awesome, Sam! I’m so happy for you. It’s about time something good happened to you.”

  “Yeah, and even though I’m super-excited for this date tonight, I’m still broke and ready to sell a fucking kidney if something doesn’t give. You know anyone who could sell a kidney for me? I could probably get my date to remove it for me,” I joke.

  She laughs. “Sorry, but nope. I don’t have any organ traffickers on my call list. But I did ask Griffin about work for you. He said he doesn’t have anything right now, but he’ll keep you in mind if something comes up.”

  “Tell him thanks for me.”

  “I will,” she mumbles.

  “What’s wrong? Your voice sounds off.”

  “Well, it’s just that…I might have a way for you to make some extra money, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  “Spill it already! You know how broke I am. I’m ready to sell my soul,” I joke.

  “I’m telling you, Sam, it’s very unconventional.” She’s dragging it out and making me a little nervous.

  “Just spit it out, El. It’s not like it’s prostitution or anything, right?”

  “Well, you know Griffin’s friend, Cameron?”

  “No,” I state flatly, a little unnerved she didn’t refute my prostitution comment.

  “He’s, like, the top lawyer in Chicago—the super-hot playboy? Anyway, he’s in a bit of a jam and needs a fiancée for a little while.”

  I laugh, expecting her to say she’s joking, but it never comes. “Are you joking?”

  “Not at all. It has something to do with getting a very specific client. This client is very family-oriented, and he wants to make sure the lawyer he hires has the same values.”

  “That’s fucking weird, dude. I’m not doing that! I was joking about the prostitution thing, but this seems like borderline illegal.”

  “You sure? You’d get a free trip to Georgia, all expenses paid. Plus, you’d be paid for every moment you spend with him, and trust me, you’d want that money. He’s a bit of a man-whore, and he’s rich and has the attitude to prove it.”

  “He sounds terrible.”

  She laughs. “I used to think so, but when you see him and Griffin alone, their friendship is very genuine and it’s brought me around. But I’m not the one who has to spend every minute with him either.”

  I laugh. “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I have morals after all, and the idea of hanging out with a self-absorbed womanizer doesn’t sound like a good time.”

  She laughs but agrees. “I figured. I just didn’t know how hard up you w
ere.”

  I snort. “Hard up, but not quite there yet. Hey, next time I need someone to pimp me out though, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” I’m half-joking but also a little annoyed she would even suggest something this outrageous.

  “I gotta go, Sam. Don’t be mad at me. Call me and let me know how it goes with Dr. Sexy tonight.”

  “That’s Dr. McSexy, and I will. Bye, El.” I hang up the phone and finish my walk home.

  Letting myself into the apartment, I step into the hallway and remove my jacket and hang up my purse. At this point, I’m not even sure why I carry it. It’s not like there’s any money in there. I laugh when I think about how my purse is worth more than the money in my wallet—which happens to be zero. And I still have another week to go before I get paid.

  The apartment is dark, so I carefully walk to the kitchen and flip on the light. Nothing happens. I flip it back and forth a few times before realizing the power has finally been cut.

  “Fuck!” I kick the doorframe with my toe, then continue to jump around, whining about the pain I just inflicted on my poor foot.

  I take my phone from my pocket and turn on the flashlight so I can see enough to walk through the dark kitchen. I open the bread box and pull out the stack of bills I hid from El. With both hands full, I take them back to the living room and open the curtains, letting the afternoon light pour into the room. I sit on the edge of the couch and search for the electric bill. With a deep breath, I remove the bill from the envelope and look down to see the red banner across the top that reads Final Notice. The balance is five hundred dollars, with a four hundred reconnect fee.

  Nine hundred dollars just to get power in my apartment. Even if I used my entire check next week, I still wouldn’t have enough to pay the rest of my bills—not to mention, live without power for a week. I won’t even be able to take a shower since the hot water heater is electric.