Fake It For Me, page 9
Sandy glided elegantly across the entrance hall toward me. The maitre’d gave her a funny look, but I motioned toward him, gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed she’s with me. He gave me an excited smile and two thumbs-ups. Why shouldn’t he be excited? Especially after I’d tipped him off to what was about to happen.
Finally, she was there. Standing right in front of me.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Milady,” I said courteously.
“You look…good,” Sandy said.
I arched my eyebrow. “Just good?”
Sandy scoffed. “Don’t push it, Nicholas, good is all you get.”
I laughed at this. “Well, you look better than good. Beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she nodded, accepting the compliment. “So, do you.”
“I look beautiful?” I asked. “Well, thanks, I’ve never been called beautiful before.”
“I don’t know if I’d go all the way to ‘beautiful,’” Sandy scrunched up her nose. “Definitely a pretty boy, though.”
I rolled my eyes and offered her my arm. “Shall we go through?”
“We shall,” Sandy nodded.
Moments later, there we sat at our table. The waiter came through not too long after and presented us with menus. “Perhaps some wine while you wait?” he offered. “Or some…uh…champagne?”
I rolled my eyes. Nice one, I thought. Subtle.
“What’s wrong?” Sandy asked. She’d noticed me roll my eyes.
I smirked and shook my head. “Nothing. Yeah, we’ll take some champagne. What’s your most expensive bottle of bubbly?”
The waiter looked impressed. “That would be a 2002 Dom Perignon Rosé, sir, valued at…uhh…eight thousand.”
Sandy nearly choked on air. “Eight thousand?” she spluttered. “Eight thousand what?”
I chuckled. It was worth it going out to eat with Sandy for this exact reason. “We’ll take it,” I nodded. “A bottle of that, and here, a Ben Franklin to line your pocket.”
I slipped the waiter a hundred-dollar bill and he accepted it with a look of utmost gratitude on his face. Sandy looked at me with a curious expression on her face as the waiter walked away.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Spend ridiculous amounts of money on things you don’t really need or want?”
I shrugged. “It’s difficult to explain. You’d probably understand if you were rich. But I don’t want to talk about me, I want to talk about us. And your plans for this get-rich-quick scheme-”
“I thought we agreed you’d stop calling it that?” Sandy narrowed her eyes.
I held up my hands defensively. “You’re right, sorry. I was just thinking, you know? We’d need cover stories. We met in high school, that’s a provable fact, so why don’t we start with that?”
“Yeah,” Sandy nodded. “Met in high school and had, what? A secret affair?”
“Scandal,” I snapped my fingers. “People love scandals, they’ll lap that up.”
The waiter was returning, carrying two glasses of champagne and the eight-thousand-dollar bottle. Sandy lifted up the bottle and seemed to be inspecting it. “Really doesn’t look like it’s worth eight-thousand-dollars,” she murmured, seemingly to herself.
“This bottle is from 2002, you know,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, and I’m from 1991,” Sandy made a face. “But am I worth eight thousand dollars?”
I arched my eyebrow. “I don’t know, I hear it’s illegal to sell women these days. Like even in Texas.”
That made her laugh. Then she raised the glass to her lips to take a sip of the eight-thousand-dollar champagne, and I watched the realization dawn on her face. She very nearly dropped the glass.
“Nick!” she barked. “What are you doing?!”
“Sandy,” I said loudly. “I love you. You complete me. You’re my whole life!”
Sandy tipped the glass over and fished an engagement ring out of the depths of the champagne. “Is this yours?”
I stood up and then took a knee next to her at the table. By now, several other diners had turned in their seats to watch this unfolding.
“I don’t want to live my life wondering why I didn’t do this one second sooner,” I said, loudly enough to be overheard. “I love you so much, Sandy. Will you marry me?”
“What the hell are you doing?” Sandy whispered through clenched teeth.
“Acting,” I whispered back. “No-one’s going to believe we’re married unless there’s a public proposal!”
“A ring, Nick? In the champagne? Really?”
“Sue me, I’ve seen it on TV,” I admitted. “But you’ve gotta say yes, or this whole plan is bust.”
She knew I was right. The cogs in her mind were turning. Finally, she had to crack a smile. “Yes,” she said, trying with all her might not to roll her eyes. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”
The restaurant’s dining hall broke out into raucous applause, and as we locked eyes, I winked cheekily at her.
Chapter Eleven
Sandy
I can’t believe he did that! Well actually, no, that’s a lie. I can totally believe that. This kind of thing just has ‘Nick McConnery’ written all over it. For the rest of the night, people kept coming up to me, wringing my hand and congratulating me on my new engagement.
I must admit, I didn’t see my first proposal going like this. It would’ve been perfect except for the fact that it was all faked! Nick just sat through it all, soaking up the attention and compliments like only Nick knew how to do so effortlessly.
Soon, however, the night was no longer young, and I was looking to make a move. I could tell Nick was getting restless too. I smirked nostalgically at this - he was no different than he’d been in high school, always restless and impulsive.
“Wait, remind me where you live?” Nick asked. “Queens, right?”
I frowned. “Why’d you say it like that?”
“Say it like what?” Nick asked, innocently.
“Like it’s a place where peasants live,” I added swiftly.
Nick cocked his head from side to side. “Well…”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you calling me a peasant in your mind right now?”
“No!” Nick said with a level of urgency I seldom saw from him. “No, I was not. Besides, the world isn’t split up into rich people and peasants. It’s not so black and white, you know, Sandy?”
I was surprised, yet pleasantly so, at this level of maturity. However, as I should’ve known, it didn’t last long.
“There are rich people, then there’s wealthy,” Nick explained. “Then there’s financially stable, then there’s poor, then broke and then you get peasants.”
“Right,” I drawled. “And which one am I?”
Nick shrugged. “You tell me.”
I scowled. “Just take me home.”
“Well I wouldn’t want to disappoint milady,” Nick said sarcastically.
Outside, Nick’s driver, Ramon, had already brought the car around. I can’t lie, I was pleased with the heads that we turned as Nick and I got into the car. However, what was less pleasing, with the fifty-five-minute drive back to Queens from the Upper West Side in Manhattan.
Finally, however, the car came to a crawl.
“Well, this is it,” Nick said gently. He paused as if about to say something. Next moment, we both said “thanks for tonight” at the same time. I chuckled. Then Nick laughed as well.
“And thanks for driving me home,” I added.
Nick shrugged. “Ramon drove you home,” he gestured to the front seat. “I just sat here and looked pretty.”
I laughed at this. “Good night, Nick.”
“Good night, Sandy.”
Thankfully, my door was on the side-walk side. I got out of the car and shut the door behind me, making certain not to get my dress caught in the door. The thing cost way too much money, and I’ve only worn it like twice.
Suddenly, I heard another door open behind me. I turned. Nick was standing there, by the car. “I was thinking,” he was saying suddenly. “I should really see where you live, shouldn’t I?”
I narrowed my eyes. “We’re going with that one, are we?”
“I’m serious!” Nick said, as sincerely as he could muster. “I’ll probably have a fair bit of questions from Dad, and trust me, he grills me every single time he sees me. There’s no telling what he’ll ask me. Plus, I am your fiancée, right?” he chuckled at this like there was something hilariously funny.
I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to stand there laughing like an idiot all night, or are you going to come up?”
Nick looked slightly amused at my ‘rudeness.’ “Back in a bit, Ramon, keep her warm, will you?”
He joined me on the side walk, and we both looked up at the overbearing sight of my apartment block against the black sky.
“So what floor do you live on?” Nick asked.
I winced. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Nearly ten whole minutes later, we were finally reaching the top floor. Nick was totally out of breath, and had sweat buckets, turning the armpits of his shirt dark. Which I found weird, considering he appeared to be in such good shape.
“You really need to get more exercise,” I said sternly, fishing my keys out of my purse.
“You’re not the first person to say that,” he mused. If truth be told, I was a little nervous at Nick seeing my place for the first time. My house. That’s mine. At the place where I live.
“Are you going to open the door, Sandy?” Nick asked, sounding bored.
I realized I’d been standing there, with my hand on the key, key in the door, for far too long. I took a deep breath. Time to tear the band-aid off.
I opened the door and boldly walked through it. Nick followed through in my wake, his eyes glazing all over the apartment, drinking in the sight.
“So?” I prompted. “What do you think?”
“It’s…” Nick trailed off. “It’s nice.”
“Nice try,” I said knowledgeably.
“No, I’m serious!” Nick said, with a level of sincerity that looked alien on his normally nonchalant expression. “Listen, eventually you get bored of living in million-dollar penthouse suites, you know?”
“I would love to say that I do know,” I said truthfully. “But the truth is, I have no idea what you mean. I didn’t know one could get bored of not being poor.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Never mind,” he muttered, as if he were going to say you don’t understand, you’ll never understand.
“Make yourself at home,” I suggested. “I’m just going to change, this thing is super tight.”
“Oh, I know,” Nick’s eyes raked my hips. “Please, be my guest.”
“Ha-ha,” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be back in a second.”
I went back to my bedroom, peeled the dress from my body, and replaced it with a nightgown and socks. When I walked back into my front room, Nick was going through my CD’s. “I didn’t know you liked AC/DC.”
“How did you not know that?” I frowned. “I used to play Shoot to Thrill all the time back in school.”
Nick shrugged, eyes still fixed on the CD. “No data,” he remarked. Then he looked up, and almost snorted out the entire contents of his nose. “What are you wearing?”
“It’s a nightdress,” I said distastefully.
“You mean a long-ass shirt?” Nick drawled. “You look like a granny wearing that.”
“If you’d known my grandmother, you’d understand why I’m flattered by that,” I said bluntly. “So, I must admit, I’m surprised.”
“Surprised about what?” Nick asked, replacing the CD and leaning gently on the wall with his hands in his pockets.
I didn’t answer immediately, but plodded over to the kitchen cabinet, retrieving a bottle of La Umbra Merlot and a long-stemmed wine glass. “You know, you live in those big, fancy apartments in Manhattan. This must be like, living in a dumpster to you.”
Nick smiled, wryly at this. “People tend to assume that.”
I removed the bottle cap, tipped some of the vintage into the glass, and sipped it gently. “And what’s the truth?”
“The truth?” Nick asked, thoughtfully. “The truth is that just because I’m rich, doesn’t necessarily mean I live life in the fast lane every single second of my existence. Or rather, it doesn’t mean I always enjoy it.”
“What are you saying?” I sipped some more wine. “You don’t like being rich?”
“No,” Nick shook his head. “I love my life. But…I don’t always like loving it. If that makes any sense.”
I wasn’t 100% sure I understand what Nick was trying to say, but I could tell that I’d touched a nerve, and now I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I drained my wine glass. “Sorry, I should offer you some.”
“Hmm?” Nick asked, apparently not paying attention.
“Wine?” I offered, pouring some into a second glass.
“Oh, thanks,” Nick nodded his gratitude. His face changed, however, when he sipped the wine. “What is this?” he asked, screwing up his face. “Chateau Latour? Cheval Blanc?”
I had to laugh at this. “I don’t know what any of those words mean, but it’s definitely not the high-quality, ten-thousand-dollar red wine that you’re used to. I think this bottle cost about…six bucks?”
Nick snorted at this. “What a life you live,” he said, his tone edged with humor.
Nevertheless, he sipped the wine, and soon, the conversation had turned back to our arrangements for the coming days. “I think you should be the serial womanizer that has finally decided to change your ways,” I was saying, with a hint of a snigger.
I couldn’t tell if the hurt on Nick’s face was real or not, but my suspicions were confirmed when he smirked. “Why do I have to be the serial womanizer who changes his ways? Why can’t you be the serial gold-digger who changes her ways? You know, like in that movie.”
“What movie was that?” I frowned.
“You know, that one with the lady from Zorro,” Nick prompted.
“You mean Catherine Zeta-Jones?” I supplied. “Oh, I know what movie you mean, it’s Intolerable Cruelty.”
“Sure, I’ll take your word for it,” Nick shrugged.
“Hey!” I barked. “I’m not being the serial gold-digger, no one will believe that!”
“Why not?” Nick grinned. “I’m super-rich, and you’re broke! It makes perfect sense!”
I half-scowled and half-tried to stop myself laughing. “Well, buster brown, you’re already a serial womanizer, so it lines up.”
Nick thought about this. “I wouldn’t say serial. That makes it sound a lot more serious than it is.”
I laughed out loud this time. “Well…the good news is, we already sound like an old, married couple.”
“We’ve got that going for us, at least,” Nick agreed. He drained the rest of his glass. “Thanks for the hospitality. And the wine. If you can, call that wine.”
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Just like that,” Nick grinned. He winked cheekily at me with those big, green eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”
I was suddenly aware of how close we were standing. And Oh God, I was in my nightdress! What was I thinking?
“Take a picture,” Nick murmured. “It lasts longer.”
I realized I was staring into his eyes. I attempted a scowl. “Don’t be an idiot.”
But my eyes were saying something completely different, I could sense it somehow. Nick inched slightly closer, his eyes locked with mine. Suddenly, and without warning, my hand found its way to his waist, just beneath his ribcage. I tried with all my might to resist, but my hands slid up his back, my fingernails grazing slightly against his back, only the thin material of his shirt between us.
And then his lips were on mine. A great sense of relief flooded through my body as he kissed me, and I immediately dropped my wine glass into the sink behind me. I heard the last droplets swishing around in the sink, but I paid it no mind. Nick’s hands were all over me. I could feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest, could feel his breath on me as he kissed my neck.
My mouth happened to be open and, through no fault of my own, a moan escaped it. And that was pretty much all the permission Nick needed. I felt his strong hands on my thighs, and suddenly and very effortlessly, he lifted me up. He carried me across the front room, nudged the door to my bedroom open with his foot and placed me gently down on my bed.
I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him down on top of me, kissing his face and neck, and then I rolled over, so I was on top of him. I was fumbling with his belt when Nick murmured my name.
“Sandy…”
“Shh,” I coaxed. I slipped my hand through his fly and stroked my fingertips against the tool in his boxer briefs.
Nick moaned gently as I did, and I could feel he was already as hard as granite. I unfastened the last button and gently tugged his pants down to his thighs. His cock sprung out, throbbing and veiny. I drew in a short breath. I’d almost forgotten how big he was.
I bent low over Nick’s cock and gently flicked my tongue against the tip. I felt the shockwaves pass through Nick’s whole body as I did. Then I slipped my lips over the tip and kept going, take as much of him down my throat as I could. Nick let out a long, very, very audible, gasp as I did. I began bobbing up and down on his cock, and pretty soon, he was face-fucking me.
His hands gripped my auburn hair and he pistoned his pelvis, shoving his cock further and further down my throat. My eyes were watering, and spit dripped from my chin, but I didn’t care. I kept my lips wrapped around his cock until-
Nick groaned out loud as he exploded. My mouth was suddenly filled with thick cum that burned hot. I took my time sliding my mouth off of his still-hard cock before I opened my mouth wide, making sure Nick could see what he’d left in there before I swallowed it. It turned Nick on so much, I saw the hunger in his eyes, and a moment later, his cock was rock-hard again.
I made to straddle him, but Nick grabbed me and flipped me over roughly. He placed my hands against my headboard, and next second, I felt him lift up my nightdress and smack my right butt cheek. I gasped in pain and pleasure, and Nick hit me again. I pressed my face into my pillow so there was no chance he would see me grinning - I was going to have a handprint there for weeks.
