Chapter 3 - The Billionaire's Fake Fiancé
The following morning, Darlene called me before sunrise.
"Blake."
I was making Abigail scrambled eggs.
"What?"
"Security detected an unauthorized attempt to access your employment records last night."
My stomach tightened.
"Adrian?"
"We don't know."
"Someone called me."
Silence.
"What did they say?"
I repeated the threat.
Darlene's voice became cold.
"Do not delete the call information. I'll connect you with the investigator handling Sarah's records."
I looked toward Abigail.
She was humming to herself.
"Someone mentioned my wife."
"I know."
"No, Mrs. Stanley. Somebody knows I'm asking questions."
She took a breath.
"Then we need to proceed carefully."
I looked at my daughter.
"Carefully is not a word that means much when you're a single father."
For several seconds, Darlene said nothing.
Then she asked:
"Does Abigail have school today?"
"Yes."
"Can someone you trust pick her up?"
"My neighbor, Mrs. Ellis."
"Good."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I want you to meet someone before you make your decision."
Two hours later, I entered Darlene's office.
A woman in a charcoal suit stood beside the windows.
She introduced herself as Evelyn Price.
Independent attorney.
Former federal prosecutor.
Darlene had hired her to investigate possible financial misconduct at Oakridge.
Evelyn reviewed the proposed consulting arrangement.
No secret handshake.
No briefcase full of cash.
A legitimate short-term employment contract.
A documented signing payment.
Confidentiality limited to appropriate business information.
No obligation to conceal crimes.
No requirement to surrender my legal rights.
I looked at Darlene.
"What about the eighty-five thousand?"
"Total compensation for the assignment, including a substantial initial payment."
"That's a lot of money."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm asking you to interrupt your life and work in a potentially sensitive situation."
I studied her.
"And the engagement?"
Evelyn answered.
"Not a marriage. Not a legal relationship. A temporary public representation, if you independently agree, with defined limits and no expectation of physical intimacy."
I nearly choked.
"Glad we cleared that up."
Darlene's mouth twitched.
Then Evelyn became serious.
"The public-engagement plan is optional. I have concerns about it, and I have advised Ms. Stanley of those concerns."
I looked at Darlene.
"Your own lawyer thinks it's a bad idea."
Darlene sighed.
"My lawyer thinks most of my ideas are bad."
"Occupational hazard," Evelyn said.
I considered everything.
Sarah.
Adrian.
The phone call.
My eviction notice.
My daughter's medication.
The money.
Finally, I asked:
"What exactly happens at the gala?"
Darlene looked at me.
"I introduce you as someone I'm in a relationship with."
"And?"
"Adrian will become concerned about my succession plans."
"Then?"
"We observe how he responds."
I shook my head.
"You're using me as bait."
She didn't deny it.
"Yes."
I stared.
Darlene continued.
"You would have security protection and a direct way to withdraw at any time. But I understand if you refuse."
That was the first time someone powerful had offered me a genuine choice in this entire mess.
I thought about Sarah.
Then Abigail.
"I'll do the consulting job."
Darlene waited.
"And the engagement?"
I took a breath.
"One public appearance. No more without asking me again."
She nodded.
"Agreed."
"Nobody involves Abigail."
"Agreed."
"And if this gets dangerous, we're done."
Darlene looked at me for a long moment.
"Agreed."
That evening, I stood in front of a mirror wearing a tuxedo that probably cost more than my truck.
Darlene entered the dressing room.
She wore a dark emerald evening gown.
Her hair was swept back.
A simple diamond necklace rested against her collarbone.
I stared.
Then looked away.
She noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Is there something wrong with the dress?"
"No."
"Then?"
I adjusted my cuff.
"You look nice."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Nice?"
I sighed.
"Very nice."
She smiled.
For one second, she looked younger.
Less guarded.
Then she touched her side and winced.
I noticed.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Do you need to sit?"
"No."
"Darlene."
She looked at me.
It was the first time I'd used her first name.
Her expression softened slightly.
"I'm fine, Blake."
I didn't believe her.
But I let her decide.
The charity gala occupied the grand ballroom of the Waldorf.
Crystal chandeliers.
Champagne towers.
Business executives.
Politicians.
Wealthy donors.
People who could buy my entire apartment building without noticing the transaction.
Darlene placed her hand lightly on my arm.
"Ready?"
"No."
"Excellent."
We entered.
Cameras flashed.
Whispers spread.
Then Adrian appeared.
He was tall, handsome, and wore an expensive black tuxedo.
His smile was perfect.
Until he saw me.
His face changed.
"Darlene."
"Adrian."
He looked at our joined arms.
"Who's this?"
Darlene smiled.
"Blake Turner."
Adrian studied me.
Recognition flickered.
Then disappeared.
"Have we met?"
I looked directly at him.
"Not officially."
Darlene squeezed my arm once.
Then said:
"Blake and I are engaged."
The smile vanished from Adrian's face.
For half a second, he looked genuinely frightened.
Then he laughed.
"You're joking."
"No."
He looked at me.
Then at Darlene.
"How long?"
"Long enough."
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"And does Father know?"
Darlene's expression changed.
"Father is dead, Adrian."
He looked away.
"Of course."
Then he leaned closer.
"Be careful, Blake."
I stared.
"Why?"
"My sister has a habit of destroying the men who get close to her."
Darlene stiffened.
I looked at him.
"Funny."
He frowned.
"What?"
"My wife used to say the same thing about you."
Adrian went completely still.
The ballroom continued around us.
Music.
Laughter.
Champagne.
But his face lost all color.
"Your wife?"
I held his gaze.
"Sarah Turner."
Adrian took one step backward.
Then another.
May you like
And for the first time, I knew Darlene was right about one thing.
He remembered her.
