Faking It For Mr Right

We spent the whole night fucking in every room of the apartment. My favorite was the living room, when he pinned me against the glass window, with a view out over Central Park at night, as he fucked me from behind, making me come so loudly I thanked god Devan had left already.

I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose him. The butterflies I get in my stomach whenever he catches my eye across a crowded room and smiles. The way he always seems to be able to sense what I’m thinking, to anticipate what I need even before I know it myself.

“Something on your mind?” he asks softly, now, his hand sliding higher up my thigh as he shifts closer to me on the long back seat.

I worry at my lower lip between my teeth. “Just nervous. About your dad.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “I mean, this is it, right? The culmination of your whole plan?”

He tilts his head, his forehead bunching a little as he studies me. “Assuming that he believes us, yes, tonight’s meeting with him should get me what I need. But, Melanie—”

“Good.” I cross my arms and broaden my smile. “Because Devan’s visit reminded me, I have things back at home that I need to be getting back to soon. So, it’s a good thing we’ll be finished with all of this soon.”

Something flashes across Xander’s face. Some dark expression I can’t quite read: hurt? Or maybe fear? But it’s gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by his careful, smooth mask of calm. I’ve seen him put that face on when he meets with clients, the couple of times that I’ve visited his office while he’s working. It’s a little terrifying how easily he can slip into a persona, place a mask over his true feelings to hide them even from me.

But right now, I’m almost grateful for it. At least when he’s wearing that mask, I don’t need to see how he’s really feeling. I don’t need to know that he’s looking forward to being done with me, too.

“I understand,” he says slowly, as the car finally starts to slow down, pulling into a driveway that looks even longer than some of the longest other ones that we’ve passed. Xander squares his shoulders as we park out front. “Are you ready, Melanie? Game faces on.”

“Ready to lie my heart out,” I reply, and I hope he can’t tell just how true that statement is. I force a smile as Andrew opens the back door for me. He catches my eye, a question in his expression. But I slide out of the car and right past him, ignoring it. I know Andrew and Devan spent a few hours on Devan’s last night together—she asked if she could use the car in the morning, and didn’t return until our late afternoon brunch date. But what they did or didn’t get up to is none of my business.

Besides, pretty soon neither Devan nor I will be seeing either Andrew or Xander again. I’ll go back home, she and I will return to our little life—albeit a good deal richer, and with enough money in our pockets to finally pave our way out of debt. It’s a good deal, I remind myself. A smart financial move.

Even if it’s left me with a lifelong change in my world. I glance down at my stomach as I slide out of the car, and smooth my dress over it. Of course, I’m nowhere near showing yet. But I feel self-conscious all the same, especially when Xander follows me out of the car and lets his gaze wander all over my body, drinking me in.

I swallow hard, around a sudden lump in my throat. The way he’s looking at me, I could almost believe this is real. That he really loves me, that we’re about to get married, and he’s here to introduce me to his father for the first time. But I remind myself it’s all a lie. Fake. Just like our love.

I twist the ring around on my finger and make myself grin. “How do I look? Like marriage material?” I do a little half-twirl for Xander’s sake.

His eyes stay fixed on mine, white-hot with desire. “Gorgeous. As always, Melanie.” Then he offers an arm, ever the gentleman.

I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss him. But no good will come from dwelling on it now. Not when the whole lie I’m being paid for is about to come to a head.

I fix on a mask just like Xander’s. Smooth and polite and happy to be here. Then, together, arm in arm, we stride up his father’s front steps to ring the doorbell.

Xander’s hand has scarcely fallen away from the door buzzer when the door itself swings inward to reveal the kind of stately entrance that puts Xander’s whole penthouse to shame. This is no rich Manhattan abode. This is an honest to goodness mansion, the kind straight out of an old TV show about nobles and lords in the English countryside.