Fake Marriage Box Set

Over the course of the week, things started to return to normal. I wasn't working as much as I should have been, and I could tell from the looks that everyone was giving me that it was no secret how distracted I was

. But one of the perks of being the CEO of a company was that no one could really pull the boss aside and ask if he shouldn't just stay home for the day or give him a lecture on his responsibilities to the company.

On Friday afternoon, just as I was getting ready to call it a day, I got a call that my secretary immediately transferred over to me. I frowned down at the blinking light, debating not picking it up. After all, I was ready to go home for the day. Surely whoever was calling could wait until Monday for an answer?

But that thought, in itself, made me feel guilty. I hadn't been giving the company my full attention that week, being so focused on how I was going to make things right with Lexi. I should at least pick up this one last call before I called it quits for the week.

“Orinoco Enterprises, this is Andrew Goldwright speaking.” I hoped whoever was on the other end of the line could hear the combination of “I'm not interested in whatever it is you have to say” and “I'm leaving the office, so this had better be quick.”

“Andy, so good to hear from you,” Renée said sweetly, as though I'd been the one to call her, instead of the other way around.

I scowled, debating just hanging up on her. But I knew she would probably just call back if I did so. And if I didn't answer my work phone, she would call my cell phone. I really should have the numbers changed, but there were too many people who contacted me through those numbers for work, and I didn't want to cause chaos and confusion. Still, I should remind Renée that she was breaking the law by calling me, in any case.

“You're violating the terms of the restraining order by calling me.” The judge had signed off on the documents a few days ago, and that meant that she couldn't come near Lexi, Emma, or I physically, but it also meant that she couldn't call us or contact us by email or any other means.

“You've got a restraining order?” Renée shrieked, even though she should have already been aware of this.

I frowned and wondered where that miscommunication might have occurred. She had been served the papers, as far as I knew. But maybe she hadn't opened them.

I couldn't imagine her not opening them, though. I would have thought the curiosity would be enough to get her to look at them immediately.

She was still ranting, clearly pissed. “I can't fucking believe you! And coming after my family as well? What the hell is that? It's bad enough that you spread all those lies about us to anyone who would listen, but now Dad says you've quit investing in all of the companies that he has stock in, and that's making him look really bad. Our stock prices are plummeting. Honestly, with the way that you've been acting lately, I'm starting to wonder if you've been poisoned or something. It's just not like you! I mean, you were always a cold, insensitive bastard, but this is just crazy.”

“Renée, I'm going to give you ten seconds to hang up the phone,” I said, feeling almost like I was reasoning with a child. But then again, Emma was never like this.

I didn't know why I was reasoning with her, either. I ought to just hang up and let the judge know that she had violated the restraining order. There would be evidence in the phone logs. But there was something that kept me on the line with her, listening to her hurl insults at me.

I wondered just what that was. I had never been a masochist before. Maybe it was just the fact that I had been trained, as a businessman, that you don't walk away from your arguments. Instead, you sit down and reason things out.

Or maybe it was that I thought I deserved every insult that she wanted to hurl at me. Especially after the whole debacle with Lexi over the DNA test and the crime rap. Or maybe it was something else, something to do with the weirdness of her calling me in the first place. If she didn't know about the restraining order, as she claimed, why hadn't she shown up at my work again? She seemed to have no problem doing that, and even though I'd threatened to call security on her the last time, I wasn't really stupid enough to think that would actually deter her.

“You bastard,” Renée snarled. “You picked the wrong person, but I'm going to fix all of that; don't you understand?” She said something else that I didn't quite catch.

Come to think of it, there was something weird about the phone quality in general. There was a lot of background noise, including what sounded like cars. But it wasn't typical cell phone quality; it was worse than that. I could hardly hear her at times, as though she was too far from the microphone for it to pick her up.

I gave a mental shrug. She was probably just doing something strange with the phone while she had her little hissy fit.

“Renée, you're a deluded fool. You know we're never getting back together again. I have made that quite clear. You're lucky that I haven't done worse than I already have to you. I could ruin your whole family if I wanted to.”

“Do you actually love the bitch that much?” Renée asked.

“If by 'the bitch,' you mean Lexi, then yes. I do.”

Renée laughed. “Oh, that's rich. Like you would ever be capable of love. You don't even know what love is, you twisted bastard. Did you hear that? He says he loves you. But love isn't going to save you from a bullet.”

I frowned, trying to piece together exactly what I was hearing, when suddenly things became all too clear. “Renée, where are you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level and careful when really, I was starting to panic inside.

She laughed again, sounding manic this time. “Wouldn't you like to know,” she said in a singsong voice.

“Renée, what have you done?” I asked.

I inwardly cursed the fact that I was on my office phone rather than my cellphone, since it meant that I couldn't go tearing out of there like I so desperately wanted to do. That was probably for the best in the long run, because I knew that confronting Renée right now was only going to make things worse. But at that moment, thinking of the things that she could have done to the people who I loved, made it impossible to stay calm.

“You really should get better security at your place,” Renée said, sounding careless and nonchalant, as though she were talking about the weather. “I know you've never cared about your money, but now that you do have something that you seem to care about, you'd think that you would take better care of it,” she continued. “Unless maybe that's the whole point of it. You don't actually care about the bitch and the brat at all, do you?”

My blood ran cold. “Renée,” I said warningly, but I couldn't get anything else out.

I frantically searched through my laptop for the number that I needed, and I knew that the longer I could keep her on the phone, the more time I would buy.