Fake Wife (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 8)

“Maybe you should get to know him first. I mean, I really think he’s changed, and you might—”

She laughed again. “I couldn’t care less about getting to know him.”

“Well, he worked really hard to build this club. It’s his passion and—”

“Honey, I don’t care about his passions, just his cash-ins!”

“Marlene!”

“Seriously. I don’t give a flying monkey’s ass what Charlie’s favorite color or food is. I don’t care what his hobbies are or what kind of freaky shit he gets busy at in the bedroom. It’s not like we’re applying for a green card, so I don’t need to know anything about him. I just have to live with him, pretend to be his ball and chain, and then collect my money.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said, nodding in agreement. The truth was the truth, cold as it was. Deep down, it hurt me to know my friend could be with such a great man without even caring to get to know him, but if that was what Charlie wanted, I had to let him go through with it. I couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in the way of his inheritance.

Chapter 18

The rest of the day dragged on, and as soon as Brad left, trailing the last students out the door, I quickly shut down the computer, locked all the supply closet doors, and made my way out the front. I expected to drive home in my clunker, but when I turned around, I saw a sleek, black limo pulling into the parking lot. It came to a stop right beside me, with not one squeak or squeal like the brakes on my old car always screamed.

The driver-side door opened, and a man dressed in an elegant black suit stepped out and walked around to the rear. “Good evening, Jaime,” he said as he opened it and took a short bow. “Charlie sent me to pick you up. It will be my pleasure to escort you to your destination this evening.”

“Uh, okay,” I said slowly. “This is quite the surprise.”

The driver laughed quietly. “A pleasant one, I hope. I am sure your date will be just as pleasantly surprising.”

“Date?” I repeated, and my gut twisted, my heart stuttering behind my ribs. “I, uh... I’m not really dressed for a date,” I said, looking down at myself.

“No need to worry about that. There is a dress inside the vehicle for you, one I am sure you will find appealing. You may change when we reach the venue,” he said, waving me toward the open door.

I gripped my purse more tightly, debating over whether to thank him politely and do as he said or hurry away to my own car and make a run for it. The more curious side of my brain took control, however, and my feet moved before I could stop them. I slid into the back of the limo, easing my body onto heated leather seats. A chilled bottle of champagne was already opened in an ice bucket before me.

“Help yourself to a glass if you’d like,” the driver said before he closed my door and soon reappeared in his seat.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I poured a very full glass of bubbly, wishing it was something stronger.

“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to divulge the details,” the man said as he pulled out of the lot.

“Not even a little hint?”

“Mum’s the word,” he said with a smile. “Boss’s orders.”

“Damn,” I muttered and sat back, sipping the champagne. The bubbles tickled my nose, and by the time I finished half the glass, it became evidently clear that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. After a full glass, I found myself grinning and giddy at the idea that Charlie had gone to so much trouble. All for little ol’ me, I thought with a giggle.

A short while later, the limo took a left and turned off the road, onto bumpier pavement.

I peered out the window and choked on my mouthful of champagne. “Eddie’s place?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes.”

“But this... It’s just a dive bar!”

The driver chuckled, and I wondered what he found so entertaining about it. Why the hell would he rent a damn limo to drive me to a freaking dive bar filled with drunkards and old, crappy furniture and a jukebox as old as Moses’s grandmother? That makes as much sense as wearing a Vera Wang to a mud-wrestling contest!

The driver parked his luxury automobile right out front, got out, and hurried around to open my door for me. “Milady, we have arrived,” he said.

I hesitated before stepping out. “This is a joke, right?” I said. “Any minute now, you’re going to start laughing and tell me we’re going somewhere else...or maybe Ashton Kutcher will show up and—”

The driver shook his head. “I’m assure you no one is being Punk’d, miss,” he said with a grin. “As I said before, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised once you’re inside.” He walked to the front doors of the bar and pulled one open for me. “Enjoy your night.”

I sucked in a deep breath and headed inside.