Fake It For Me, page 10
I was so wet I could feel it dripping down my thighs. Suddenly, Nick pushed it in me from behind. I groaned loudly as Nick didn’t bother going in slow, merely started pounding me right away. I cried out with every stroke as he pelvis slammed into my butt. My fingers were clenched as hard as my bones would allow on the headboard, my knuckles stark-white.
Nick was relentless - he didn’t seem to tire or fatigue, merely continued pounding into me so hard I started saying things I didn’t even know I could say.
“Yes, fuck me!” I screamed. “Fuck me, right there!”
About a half-hour later, Nick still hadn’t tired, and I’d lost count of how many orgasms I’d had at that point. “I’m gonna-” Nick grunted behind me.
I began clenching the walls of my pussy, tightening it like a vice around Nick’s cock. He grunted in pleasure.
“Right there,” I crooned. “Right there, right there!”
At the last second, Nick pulled his cock from me, and I felt him shoot what seemed to be gallons of cum across my back. I gasped in satisfaction and found my arms no longer had the strength to hold me up. I collapsed, and it wasn’t long before Nick did the same beside me. I laughed raspily, my voice box taxed out, and it wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, when I awoke, I took a few moments to try to remember exactly what had happened the previous night. And then I realized that someone’s arm was draped over me. With a shock, it all came flooding back. In a mixture of shock and horror, I glanced behind me. Nick was lying there, in my bed, fast asleep.
Shit, shit, shit, shit! I cursed inwardly. I carefully extricated myself from beneath his arm (Nick always was a heavy sleeper) and reached for my cellphone on my bedside table. I checked the display. Three missed calls, and all from Abby. I sighed. This was going to be good.
I pressed ‘redial’ and Abby answered on practically the first ring. “Well, look who it is!” she crowed. “It’s the party animal!”
“Very funny,” I said in a low voice, proceeding into the bathroom.
“You know everybody knows that Nick was over your place last night?” Abby said. “And by everybody, I mean everybody. Some reporter must have seen you, who knows? Anyway, your little secret is out! So…how was it?”
“Abby, please!” I exclaimed.
“Who’s that?” Nick asked, suddenly from behind me.
I turned around. He looked wide awake, and I secretly suspected that he hadn’t been sleeping.
“Is that him?” Abby asked. “Is he still there?”
“Abby, I’ve got to go,” I said, and hung up.
Nick was wearing the smuggest smirk I’d ever had the misfortune to behold. “So, I guess we-”
“Yeah,” I finished. “Just…don’t mention it.”
“Oh shit!” Nick exclaimed suddenly.
I was shocked - that kind of exclamation was very out of character for him. “What?”
When Nick turned to look at me again, his expression was very sheepish. “Do you think Ramon is still downstairs keeping the engine warm?”
Chapter Twelve
Nick
When I woke up, it took a moment to recall why I was in such a good mood. Then it all came flooding back. Dinner last night, my dramatically-brilliant fake proposal and of course, the highlight of the night, finally having sex with Sandy after so many years.
But overhearing half of her conversation with Abby, and particularly the tone of voice that she’d used in that conversation, was really starting to sink my battleship. Sandy had gone to the kitchen for some breakfast, leaving me sitting in her bedroom alone, and despite her being just on the other side of the door, I’d never felt more alone in my life.
To finally be with her, and then to hear that she was regretting it was worse than if I’d never been with her in the first place. This was probably karmic retribution, for all the girls I’d disregarded and treated like dirt over the years.
Because believe me when I say there had been a lot of them. There were girls who I’d pretended to be in love with just to get them into bed. There were girls who I’d cheated on and felt nothing about it, not even a shred of remorse. Feeling remorse was against my personal code, or at least it had been. Once you feel remorse, that’s opening oneself up to a whole lot of emotional baggage. And that’s the one kind of baggage that I definitely didn’t need.
I was more about airplane baggage for when you were going on holiday.
Not everyone would believe me (in fact nobody would believe me), but I didn’t want to hurt people. I didn’t want to screw over people’s feelings and leave them a broken shell. I didn’t get any enjoyment from hurting them and if I could avoid it, I would. But if it was a choice between hurting someone and not, and something I wanted hung in the balance, then…well…then there was no choice.
I was convinced that if more people looked after number one and only number one, then more people would get what they wanted and lead more fulfilling lives. It was the constant tug-of-war that was being played between those who believed in looking after their own selves and those who believed in a charity that brought out the worst in both economic systems.
Of course, now, I wasn’t sure what I believed. It seemed bizarre that last night alone was enough to completely change me into a person that wanted to embrace his emotions, no matter how good the sex was. But Sandy wasn’t just any girl, she was the girl. And if the long-standing theory about “the one” was true, and everybody had someone who made them feel the way Sandy made me feel, did that mean that emotional baggage was worth the risk? Because, like they say, the greater the risk, then the greater the reward. For the ultimate risk, it would logically follow that one stood to win the ultimate reward.
That’s all well and good, I found myself thinking. But could it be possible that this, now, is my reward? The result of years of accruing bad karma?
I may have been agnostic in terms of what I believed in, but karma seemed to be as concrete a concept as any other. It was feasible, at the very least, and if it were true, then I would almost certainly have an almost irredeemable karma. But then how could one explain how bad things happen to good people and vice versa?
I ran my hand through my hair thoughtfully and exhaled a sigh of relief. I was overthinking, I knew it. And for that matter, so was Sandy. She was overthinking the entire situation and panicking as a result. I was sure of that much - that I didn’t believe Sandy was really regretting what had happened.
No, I thought defiantly. She’s just scared, she’s not really regretting it. I’ll make this work. Somehow. Some way. I’ll make it work.
My suit jacket was draped over the back of Sandy’s desk chair, and as my eyes grazed over it, it vibrated. I swung my legs off of the bed, crossed the room, and retrieved my cellphone. A text. I wasn’t surprised when I saw who was trying to reach me.
DAD: Is this a joke?
So, dad had heard about the engagement, too. I wasn’t surprised, given that paparazzi hounded and dogged my every footstep. I mean, that had been the entire reason that I’d proposed so publicly and openly, after all. It was good to know that there was at least one thing you could count on journalists to do.
I must admit, I had expected more of a warm and hearty congratulations from my Dad, however. Actually no, that’s a lie, I didn’t. I expected him to pretend to give me a warm and hearty congratulations at the very least, he was good at pretending to have actual feelings like an actual human. In fact, I doubted I’d be able to tell the difference, he was that good an actor.
Hey, what can I say? You’ve got to be a good actor to make it to the top, especially in a city as competitive as New York City. I can say with absolute certainty that there were times when other people, Dad’s bosses, business partners, clients, and contacts, had said things he didn’t like. There were undoubtedly times when they’d forced him to do things he’d rather not have done, insulted him, tried to bully him, shat on his doorstep (figuratively, not literally, I think that’s indecent exposure and harassment).
And he just had to shelve his pride and swallow it (again, not literally, that’d be gross).
If I sound like I admire my Dad, that’s because I do. Only an idiot wouldn’t, in fact. There’s no way in hell that I want to be exactly like him, but I do admire him at least. He built High Risers from the ground up, and the money he made is what pays for the hundred-thousand-dollar watches I wear on my wrist, what pays for my twenty-thousand-dollar suits and my multi-million-dollar penthouse apartments.
But what’s even more impressive than all his wealth is his mind, one that’s sharp enough to accrue it.
I pulled my shirt back on and joined Sandy in the kitchen. She was still wearing her nightdress and frying something in the pan on the stove.
“Morning,” I said gently, pocketing my hands and leaning on the wall.
“Morning,” Sandy said back, a little coldly. “You hungry?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” I admitted.
Sandy, it turns out, was quite the cook. She’d made pancakes and eggs, and they were pretty good. It made a nice change having something simple for breakfast as opposed to having thousand-dollar lobster frittata.
“How’re the eggs?” Sandy asked.
“Not bad,” I said through a mouthful of pancake.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Sandy scowled.
I swallowed before I spoke again. “You’re quite the housewife, aren’t you, dear?”
Sandy didn’t laugh, merely took a deep breath. “I’m having second thoughts, Nick. About…well…you know.”
I found I had no answer to this. I finished chewing again and swallowed. “What changed your mind?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Sandy shrugged. “I just…Abby called me this morning. And what happened yesterday, it’s all over the news. I just…I didn’t expect it to get this far this soon.”
“That’s what you’re afraid of?” I raised my eyebrows. “That’s…well, that’s normal. You’re not used to the spotlight, it can be a bit daunting.”
“But what if someone finds out?” Sandy asked. “That we’re not really engaged?”
“How are they going to find out?” I asked. “The only way they could find out is if you literally tell them. And I don’t plan on telling anyone, how about you?”
“No, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Sandy whispered.
“It’s really too late to turn back at this point,” I reminded her. “Like you said, it’s all over the news. Even my Dad texted me about it this morning. And remember what you’re doing it for, you could get a million dollars from this, right?”
Sandy nodded. “I suppose…you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right,” I scoffed. “Now get over there and make me some coffee, woman!”
Sandy grinned devilishly. “Is that how you talk to your wife, Nick?”
“You know it,” I grinned.
An hour or so later, Sandy was all dressed and ready to leave for work. “Just leave whenever you want,” she was saying. “I guess I’ll see you…when I see you.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I guess we will.”
I resisted the urge to hug or kiss her goodbye, I sensed she wasn’t ready for it. Besides, I had more pressing matters to attend to. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, I took out my cellphone and speed-dialed my Dad’s phone. As usual, he took ages to pick up.
“Nicholas,” he said sharply.
“Morning, Dad,” I said, steeling myself for the conversation that was about to take place.
“So,” Dad said abruptly.
“So?” I prompted.
He scoffed. “Nicholas, you know damn well what. Is this stuff true? You proposed to…some girl?”
“She’s not some girl, Dad,” I said, as convincingly as I was able. “You remember Sandy? She kind of works for us.”
“And I’m supposed to remember every person that works for me, am I?” Dad asked. “Good luck with that, that’s what I say. Anyway, when’s the reservation?”
I frowned. “Reservation?”
“For the restaurant, Nicholas.”
“Dad, what are you on about?”
“You did make a reservation for dinner tonight, right?” Dad asked. “So, I can meet her?”
“Dad, you’ve already met her!” I exclaimed. “Why would I-?”
“Not as your fiancée, I haven’t!” Dad said, adamantly. “So, make the reservation. Tonight, should do.”
“Dad, really, there’s no need to-”
“You heard me, Nicholas,” Dad said, with a dangerous level of finality in his tone.
I sighed. “Fine.”
“Excellent,” Dad said, in that satisfied way that he did whenever he got his own way. “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tonight.”
He hung up.
I immediately called Sandy instead. When she answered, her tone was something strangely like smugness. “Calling me already, Nick?”
“Shut up, stop it, this isn’t funny!” I blurted. “You. Me. Dinner. My Dad. Tonight. Sorry.”
The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“What?” Sandy exclaimed. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening.”
“That’s what I tried telling him!” I exclaimed. “But he has a way of getting whatever he wants. Please, Sandy, we’ve got to do this!”
“Why does he want to meet me?” Sandy half-whined.
“I don’t know how his mind works!” I complained. “I’ve tried many times, believe me. I’m coming to get you at lunchtime.”
“What?” Sandy said, yet again. “I actually have work to do, Nick, I can’t just run away with you every day.”
“Of course, you can!” I exclaimed. “Trust me, Sandy, this is important. We have to make sure that we nail this meeting, and that my Dad does not know that it’s a fake marriage!”
“Why is it so important?” Sandy asked, uncertainly.
I sighed before I answered. “Do you remember what I told you about my mother?”
Sandy did not immediately answer. She paused. “You mean…how she cheated on your Dad?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “And also, about how she was with him for his money. But they had a child together, Sandy. Me. And they spent most of their lives hating each other, and she died before Dad could make things right with her. And it’s stayed with him ever since. My Dad makes a big deal about deception and infidelity and stuff like that. And that’s why we can’t let him know!”
“Okay,” Sandy said gently. “Okay fine, we’ll go to dinner tonight.”
“Excellent,” I grinned. “I’ll see you at lunchtime.”
“Wait, what?” Sandy spluttered. “Nick, I already told you, I can’t just-”
I hung up in mid-sentence. Lesson one about women? Never give them the chance to cancel, and they have to show up.
Chapter Thirteen
Sandy
I couldn’t lie; despite telling Nick that I couldn’t keep putting work to one side in favor of him, I was feeling a certain level of excitement to see him that lunchtime. So much so that I could barely concentrate on my work.
I got up from my desk to refill my coffee mug almost twice as frequently as normal, mainly to calm my nerves with caffeine, but also because the brief reprieve from the monotonous nine-to-five gave me another option to cast my mind forward and anticipate what was to happen later in the day. Drinking twice as much coffee, of course, meant I took twice as many restroom breaks.
I thought it was a little weird to be thinking about someone while on the toilet, but what the hell.
When twelve noon came rolling around, however, Nick was absent, which left me feeling inexplicably down. However, I soon perked up when one of the office interns came walking around to my desk, holding a big parcel in her arms. “Sandy,” she said. “Someone left this for you at reception. A courier, I think.”
I instantly knew it was from Nick. I smiled to myself. “Is there a note?”
“Funnily enough, there was,” the intern said, not sounding as interested as her words would suggest. She handed me a folded pink slip.
I unfolded the slip to see what was very definitely Nick’s handwriting.
Sorry I couldn’t make it. Busy. Sent you a present, open it when you’re alone.
P.S I hope I got your measurements right.
When I’d first seen the package, I was, maybe, 50% sure that it was a dress. Now, however, I was 100% sure. And billionaire-Nick sending me a dress didn’t do any favors for the nerves I had in anticipation of tonight, nor did it help me concentrate on the immense workload that I had piled up on my plate.
That day was one of the longest working days I remember having in living memory. Work always seems to slow down time when all you’re waiting for is five o’ clock to hurry up and get here. Finally, agonizingly, the hour came around. At five minutes to five, I was at my desk, zipping up my jacket, ready to fly out of the door as soon as the minute hand hit the ‘12’.
As soon as the clocks struck five, I was gone. I seriously doubt whether my feet actually touched the office floor on my way out. As soon as I cleared the lobby out into the street, I dug out my cellphone and called the first name in my contacts list. Abby, of course. Once she’d picked up the phone, I opened my mouth up and let fly a long explanation, bringing her up to speed on the latest developments of the past few days.
“You’re having dinner with his dad?!” Abby exclaimed.
“I know, I know!” I squealed right back. “This whole thing is spinning out of control!”
“You know you can’t back out now, right?” Abby asked. “You missed the chance to do that as soon as you guys made that huge, bullshit, phony proposal!”
