Fake Marriage Box Set

I laughed from my spot. “Safer than your part of town,” I said. “No one here has anything worth stealing.”

His head popped up from around the corner as he entered my room. I watched him from a reflection in the mirror. Fitted white suit, smooth trousers, a gray tie. He looked incredible, even with the stubble from a five o’clock shadow. I glanced at my black dress and gray heels. We were quite the good-looking couple, I realized. And it seemed that he shared the same thought as a look of desire crossed his face.

“Lock your door,” he said and leaned against the door. “Or else I’ll have to install a security system in here.”

“I knew you were coming,” I said and stood. “I left it unlocked for you. Plus, I have a security system here.” I gestured at a small black box beside the front door. “Nancie and I had it turned off when we first moved here, though. It was charging us $50 a month.”

“Well you have more than enough money to activate it,” he said. “I’ll send over another couple hundred to your account if you send proof that it’s on.”

I blinked. “Really? Why? Are you worried about me?” I grinned as a blush crossed his face. He looked at the floor, then at the ceiling, and finally at me.

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“You’re the only thing making my mom happy these days,” he said. “I sort of need you to not be kidnapped or assaulted.”

Disappointment hit me as I gathered my purse and slipped my phone into it. “Of course,” I said. It was silly of me to think that he might have developed any feelings at all. Meanwhile, I was struggling to form complete sentences around him.

“This dinner,” he said as we left my apartment and walked down the hallway. I remained two feet behind him as he led us toward the elevator. “It’s at that new hibachi place downtown.”

“A hibachi dinner?” I asked, surprised. I was definitely dressed up for something much more expensive.

“Is that not fancy?” he asked and glanced at me. I realized he was being serious. “I don’t bother with going to expensive places.”

I tried remembering if anyone had even mentioned the restaurant on social media. I pulled out my phone and looked through several apps using the search function. I couldn’t find anything about it. We entered an empty elevator and stood several feet away from one another.

“Well, what is it for?” I asked as the doors closed.

“A proposal,” he said.

“For what?” I was still staring at my phone.

“Well, for you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “To marry me.”

My phone slipped out of my fingers, but I caught it before it could crash into the bottom of the elevator. I took a deep breath and looked at him.

“This is a proposal dinner?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

“You needed to look somewhat surprised in the pictures,” he said.

“Pictures,” I repeated, realizing what it meant. “For your mom.”

“And to show at the wedding, which will be this weekend,” he added as the elevator doors opened. I followed him to his car.

“This weekend?” I nearly shrieked. “Gavin, you can’t plan a wedding within a week; that’s impossible!”

He glanced at me. “So I’ve heard.”

He opened the passenger car door for me and left without closing it. I stretched and grabbed the handle and closed it myself.

“Well, you can’t propose to me at a hibachi dinner,” I said. Nerves were rubbing in my stomach, despite knowing that it was all fake. Still, a part of me was excited and almost happy.

“The entire floor is rented out,” he said. “We can try and make it look fancy in the pictures at least.”

“Did you tell your mom about this?” I asked. “Where the dinner’s at, at least?”

“She said to make it a surprise,” he said. I nodded; that explained the weird location. I smiled as I watched him drive. Despite having billions of dollars, it would have been impossible to tell that Gavin was anything more than a middle-class momma’s boy. He wore the same suits often, never matched any of his clothes, didn’t utilize his giant mansion to its full potential, and drove cars that the average person didn’t exactly lust over.

I glanced at his golden watch, a brand that was probably only a thousand dollars at most. There were men far less rich than he who wore million-dollar watches. And I had flirted with plenty of them.