His Fake Fiancee: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me)

I blink and he’s pulled out the clip holding my hair up again. The hand slips from my neck to go into my hair. His grip is punishing as he frowns down at me.

“You are trying my patience. Why are you not saying yes to what we both want?”

Finding my voice isn’t easy. “I don’t like lying. Not to strangers, not to Abuelo. When it ends...” I try to look away but he won’t let me. “I don’t know that I can stay working with you. Seeing you and not...” I swallow against the tears. “I can’t.”

I watch his jaw work.

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

What?

“I will pay you five hundred thousand dollars for the pretense. I do not want you to leave my company when it ends. We could try you working out of the office, simply sending prospects through email or something. However, I will not argue if you need to leave. The five hundred is yours whether you stay or go, but it is in case you leave and it takes you time to find something else. You will be able to take your time and only accept work you truly want to do.”

Slapping him won’t solve anything. “It isn’t about the money. I don’t want money.” I swallow the words. All I want is you.

His phone rings, it’s Tim’s ringtone. Grabbing his phone from inside his jacket, he loosens his hold on me. I push him away and flee into the restroom. From far away I hear Ivan call my name, but I ignore him.

Slamming into the stall, I fumble with the lock and let my forehead fall against the cool metal. My skin is still so hot it’s a shock, a welcome one to combat the chaos inside me. This isn’t a dream. How is this real?

Ivan wants me to pretend, pretend he asked me to marry him, to pretend I said yes, and that I believe...closing my eyes, I hate the longing welling up inside me, so intense I can’t breathe from it. Longing to belong to Ivan, the way he demanded. Oh god, even now the way he said, to be owned, to belong to him.

I press my chest against the metal to assuage the aching of my breasts. But then he rocked my entire world when he groaned out how much he wanted me too, dreamed of me the same way I dreamed of him. There would be no pretending when it came between us. Except he growled about fucking me, not making love. He was willing to pay me to make me go away.

My head comes up. Wait a minute. He still didn’t want me to leave, but not only was he willing to let me go, he would make it so that I didn’t need to work. That’s nothing like the way he spoke the day he refused to let me quit. Was it because of how important it was to him to avoid the Mishka girl and ensure Gemma’s happiness?

I wince as I remember Gemma and her tears, how upset Ivan became hearing her cry. How he swore he would do anything to protect her. He was asking me to help do that too. He didn’t want anyone else, but would he find someone else if I said no? I couldn’t take that, no matter what. At the idea of him touching someone else, pain flashes sharp inside me.

I straighten as it comes back to me, what Lydia said. It feels like months ago now, she had said they were going to fight against it. How they won’t let us get away with fucking anyone but them. They feel you belong to them. The way Ivan growled at Dmitri, threatened him with violence. His reaction when I was dumb enough to say I thought Dmitri was attractive—he didn’t like that at all.

Yes, this is pretend, but it’s a chance at showing him that he could be happy, we could be happy. At the end of the week, Sunday, we go to Manchester for two weeks. So for at least two weeks, day in and day out, we would be together. It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing. I’m willing to take the chance, on him. On us.

***

Ivan

Stalking the length of the large room is not helping. Where the hell is she? Fuck. I cannot believe how badly I fucked up. Pawing her in public, losing my temper at the way Dmitri taunted me by flirting with her. The sight of her hand in his sent a wash of red over me, then she smiled at him with her eyes wide.

It did not matter that Dmitri is one of only two people I trust outside of my family. That he is the oldest friend I have and whom I owe much of my success to. Still, violence seethed through me. The desire to break him rose within me. No one was allowed to touch Christina, except me.

I pause at how simply remembering Dmitri’s flirting causes anger. Nothing was going to plan. I was supposed to take her back to my place after lunch, sit her down and have a civilized conversation followed by a highly satisfying hour or two of sex, then onto my lawyer’s office to put the arrangement into clearly defined terms.

In my arrogance, I never doubted she would accept for a second. How could she not when this would enable us to consummate the desire that threatened to consume us both? This was a perfect plan.

For the next three weeks, we could fuck this need out of us. Mishka would see us together and there would be no question Christina was what I wanted, and she would back the hell off. At the end of the three weeks, a broken engagement would gain sympathy for Christina. She would not endure ridicule for me having had her and ending things. I know Christina—she would not be able to take people talking about her, the whispers of co-workers. If she stayed, and I wanted her to, then this was the best way to do that.

Except I screwed everything up by losing control the moment I touched her. Was it going to happen every time?

“Ivan?”

I turn to find Christina behind me. Her eyes are glowing green, even though she is tense with anxiety. Denying my desire to touch her is not easy. However, I will not make the same mistake again.

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” The words are hard to say, yet I need her to know for sure. Once she says yes, I will not allow her to change her mind. “About everything.”

She nods. “Everything.”

A small step brings her too close for my fraying control. I step back, and her eyes go big.