4

Andy’s POV

I was three seconds away from throwing a $4000 bottle of Chateau Margaux directly through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the private dining room, when my date finally walked in.

I clenched my fist, trying to suppress my annoyance. She was a good twenty minutes late and I hated waiting around. She sat down without offering any apology and signalled to a waiter.

I watched as she ordered the most expensive meal on the menu, then dessert. My eyes widened. Who orders dessert without eating the main meal? Was she eccentric or was this a red flag?

“So,” she said, finally turning to me as she waited for her order. “You’re a billionaire?”

I nodded.

“Good, I don’t date broke men.”

“I'm not surprised.” I said dryly.

“My family is rich.” She boasted. “I have standards. My last boyfriend bought me a Mercedes for my birthday. I expect you to do better.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Her only connection to wealth was the niece of a miserly oil tycoon. Her name was her only asset, which is why I’d chosen her as a candidate for my fake fiancée position.

I took a sip of wine. “So, the deal is you pretend to be my fake fiancée for three months. Make it as real as you can, but remember it’s not real.”

“I know. I’ll have to attend events with you, smile for photographs, be nice to your relatives, pretend to love you, blah blah blah. What I’m interested in, is what I’ll get out of this arrangement. I’m not going to pretend to be your fiancée for free.”

“I never said you would,” I said irritable.

“Good. Because I want fifty thousand dollars a month.”

I nearly choked on my wine. “Fifty thousand? That's too much when you’re doing absolutely nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have to look like the fiancee of the CEO to a company as big as yours, that requires money.”

Her order came and she began eating, not bothering to ask why I hadn’t ordered. I watched her and sighed inwardly. This was going to be another disappointment.

“I’ll need, a new car and a house.” She said suddenly, “also I want my own credit card.”

“That’s too much.” I protested again.

“You can afford it. You’re a billionaire.”

“Not for long by the time you’ll be finished with me.”

“Don’t be stingy. I deserve anything I ask for. You don’t want me telling people about our arrangement do you.” She added slyly.

I sniffed, lightly, sure I smelt a whiff of extortion. This date was over.

“Thank you for coming,” I said standing up.

She frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“But we haven’t discussed the engagement ring.”

“We’re not getting engaged.”

Her mouth fell open. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about the bill, enjoy your meal.”

“What about some compensation for wasting my time?” She demanded.

“You're eating it.” I told her sharply and walked out.

Another disastrous audition. My fifth. And each one worse than the last.

It was beginning to look like I wouldn’t be able to find a bride before my deadline and would lose my position at the company, and even worse, my father's approval.

Fuck!

This won’t have happened if Jessica Sinclair hadn’t dumped me.

We’d been dating for two years and I’d already begun wedding plans when she’d suddenly ended it two weeks ago without any reason.

“What did I do?” I asked that day in the café, when she told me it was over.

“I can’t go through with the wedding.” She said firmly.

“But why? I thought we loved each other? I’ve already made arrangements for the wedding hall.”

“Cancel it. I can’t marry you Andy. I’m sorry.”

She walked out and left me sitting there stunned and devastated.

Yeah, I was devastated because I'd been dumped, but mostly because I was weeks away from being made CEO of Harrisco, my father's multi million dollar conglomerate. According to the ultimatum he'd given me, if I wasn’t married by my thirtieth birthday, I’d lose it all to my asshole half-brother, Justin who was already happily married.

That would happen over my dead body. I went to see Jessica that evening, to try and change her mind, but she’d moved out of her apartment and wasn’t taking my calls. I immediately went to plan B. Find a fake fiancée.

Problem was, it couldn’t be any random girl, she had to be an heiress or from a prominent family.

Unfortunately many heiress’s had no interest in playing pretend. The few who did were either obnoxious, bitches, or obnoxious bitches. As the day drew nearer I began to realize I may end up losing to Justin.

As I sat wearily in my car, thinking about my next option, my step mother Glenn called.

“Andy,” she said will false sweetness, “when are we expecting you? D-Day is almost here, or have you changed your mind?”

“No. I’ll be there next week.”

“Good. I can’t wait to meet your fiancee. You’ve talked so much about her I feel I know her already.”

I frowned, something about her tone made me suspicious. Had she heard Jessica had dumped me and there was no fiancee? Had my dad heard? I began to sweat.

“You’ll meet her don’t worry." I said, forcing myself to sound confident. "Got to go now, see you. Say hi to dad.”

I hung up quickly, thinking hard. Time was running out. In desperation, I sent Jessica a text.

Babe, please meet me at the Coastal Bar. I need to talk to you. Please.

Heart racing, I drove there to wait for her.

*****

She was a no-show. After a frustrating two hour wait I gave up and decided to head home. I walked to the bar to settle my bill. As I turned to head to the door, I bumped into a woman. She swayed and I had to hold on to her shoulder to steady her.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered.

“It’s okay. Are you alright? You seem woozy?”

“I’m fine.” She pushed the hair away from her face. We both stared at each other, trying to make out why we looked familiar to each other. Then it hit us at the same time and we froze.

“What the hell are you doing here?” We both asked at the same time.