Fake Fiancée Read online

  Fake Fiancée

  Clara Reese

  https://clarareese.com

  Copyright © 2019 by Clara Reese

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  https://clarareese.com

  Contents

  1. Dawn

  2. Gina

  3. Dawn

  4. Gina

  5. Dawn

  6. Gina

  7. Dawn

  8. Gina

  9. Dawn

  10. Gina

  11. Dawn

  12. Gina

  13. Dawn

  14. Gina

  15. Dawn

  16. Gina

  17. Dawn

  18. Gina

  19. Dawn

  20. Gina

  21. Dawn

  22. Gina

  23. Dawn

  24. Gina

  25. Dawn

  26. Gina

  27. Dawn

  28. Gina

  29. Dawn

  30. Gina

  31. Dawn

  32. Gina

  33. Dawn

  34. Gina

  35. Dawn

  36. Gina

  1

  Dawn

  As I see the landscape change from high-rise buildings and high-end architecture to rustic country abodes and trees, I can’t help but smile. The air blows through the driver side window and rustles my hair. I’m heading out of the city and to my family’s chalet for the weekend to overlook the work being done on it, and while some would say that a country escape is the last place that they would expect to see me, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong they are.

  I’ve always enjoyed getting away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and my great Uncle Arthur’s chalet was usually the best place to do it. It’s peaceful, secluded, and absolutely stunningly beautiful, with gorgeous views as far as the eye can see. It’s quiet and it gives you a chance to unwind and decompress; there’s nothing quite like being able to lounge on a deck and hear nothing but the loons on the water and see the stars in a clear night sky.

  A lot of that changed though when my great Uncle Arthur died eleven months ago, and since then I’ve been trying to get the place fixed and cleaned up. I decided to convert it into a shelter for battered women since it’s a subject that hits so close to home for me, and since the chalet is way up in the mountains it’s the perfect location for it. It provides the serenity and quiet needed for recovery as well as the benefit of being secluded up in the mountains, both of which are things appreciated by a woman on the run from an abusive partner. I would know.

  Because of this, the drive down today has me both nervous and excited. The woman that I’m working with has been really great so far, and I’ve actually been overseeing and working on the cleanup personally with her, which is what I’ll mostly be doing today, along with putting some finishing touches on the rooms. Usually my role wouldn’t include being as hands-on as I have been, but the contractor that I’m working with has been kind and understanding enough to allow for some wiggle room. It’s been great to be able to actually have a hand in the cleaning and building of this new project, both in the boardrooms and on the ground.

  It’s a bit of a drive to get there, so I’ve got lots of time to consider things and think back on life and what’s brought me to this point, good and bad. Ultimately, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m proud of who I am now and what I’ve been able to accomplish. I’ve been through enough bullshit in relationships to know exactly what it’s like to need an escape, so I wanted to make sure that, after everything, I would be able to provide that for someone.

  Also, working with Gina, the contractor, is a lot better than I thought it would be, if I’m being honest. A lot of the contractors I’ve dealt with in the past have been cold, and not as open to having an investor closely involved, but Gina is different. She has no issue with it, and in fact she seems to welcome it for the most part. The fact that she’s gorgeous is just the icing on the cake.

  With a tall, lean build, beautiful black hair and piercing green eyes, she’s everything that you wouldn’t expect from a contractor, yet she’s everything she needs to be at the same time. Not that her being pretty has any merit on her work, but hey, you can’t blame a woman for being happy that her coworker is attractive, right?

  It’s been great to be able to help with everything, as well as have some decent conversations with her, which makes the work go by that much more quickly. And Gina seems to be as passionate about my cause as I am, which is a huge plus. Sure, a contractor is a contractor; you hire them for their work, not their ideals. But having one that shares the same sort of mindset and understands your passion is always a plus. The fact that I don’t have to justify anything to her and she happily helps me along is refreshing, to say the least. I really couldn’t be happier with our working relationship.

  It’s not too much longer until I’ll be pulling into the chalet’s laneway, so I try to hype myself up and get excited for the day of work to come. It’s going to be busy, and it’s probably going to be a long one, but I’m actually really looking forward to it. Not only for the fact that I’ve been looking forward to seeing and working with Gina again, but because we’re getting so close to finishing this project, and after today’s work the place will finally coming together. We should be able to get the last of the final touches on some of the rooms, and have it looking like a real, welcoming and safe place, instead of the dreary and dated building that it used to be. These women are looking for a safe haven. The last thing I want them to walk into is an old run-down mansion that looks like the setting of a Stephen King novel. No thank you!

  Sure, it’s not going to be some swanky five-star hotel-looking place with gold plated everything and fancy art on the walls. But it’s going to be warm and welcoming, and it’ll provide these women with a place to lay their heads and feel safe after going through hell. It’s going to be a place that allows them to get a good night’s rest without fear of being woken up suddenly at 2am by a hand in their hair or a fist to their face, a place that allows them to relax and get back on their feet without feeling like they have to constantly look over their shoulder. I remember what it was like to long for that, to need a safe space where I could just breathe, and not having it. I don’t want other women to have to deal with that, which is where my dream was born.

  As I continue down the highway and get closer and closer to my destination, I can’t help but feel a tightness in my chest and a flutter in my heart, excitement and nerves all bubbling up at once. Things are finally starting to come together on this project and for the first time in a really long time, I feel like I’m finally doing something that really matters. I’m doing something that is going to literally change lives for the better, and there’s nothing that can take that away from me.

  2

  Gina

  I’ve been driving for… how long have I been driving? An hour at least, and I can already feel my legs getting restless. Not to mention the fact that the drive is doing absolutely nothing for my hair; the wild curls running amok with the wind and the mountain air, static and frizz making me want to avoid mirrors at all costs. Oh well, what can you do? It’s all for a good cause.

  Usually I wouldn’t agree to drive so far for a job, but Dawn—that’s my employer—is paying me well, more than enough to cover the gas mileage. Which is a good thing because I can practically see the gas indicator dipping and moving down with every mile I drive, the long trip taking its toll on the work van. It’s not just the money that keeps me coming back to this job th
ough, it’s the job itself.

  Dawn is turning an old family property from a deceased relative into a battered women’s shelter and I’ve got to say, I’ve never ever had an employer that is as passionate and driven about a cause as Dawn is about this one. She not only makes sure that everything that is required is accessible, but she oversees it personally and helps, more than she needs to. I do know that this particular cause and passion of hers hits close to home, which certainly plays a part. I don’t know the details of everything, but I do know that she understands what it’s like to be a woman who feels she has nowhere else to turn in a bad relationship.

  It seems an odd thing, to know such a personal detail about an employer’s life, but Dawn and I have grown closer while working together. She isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty—literally. She’s been helping personally with the cleanup and renovations as well as handling the behind the scenes stuff—so we’ve spent hours upon hours working together and chatting, getting to know each other and swapping life stories. Sure, we’re coworkers and, hell, she’s even my boss, but she treats me as an equal and I respect the hell out of her. Not only because of how she carries herself, but because of what she’s overcome.

  When she first approached me about this project I immediately had this gut feeling like I just had to take it. When else would I get to work on such an honorable cause, as well as getting paid as well as I do? Probably never. I would have been an idiot to turn down the job. So, naturally, I didn’t. I started working with her right away and since then, things have been mostly smooth sailing, which is more than I can say for a lot of my jobs.

  Being able to say that I’m involved in a project that helps women the way that this one does is a reward in itself, not to mention the kick-ass pay. And, on top of that, Dawn is one hell of a cutie. She’s petite and blonde, but is she ever a feisty little thing who doesn’t let anyone—corporate or no—give her any shit.

  Because of all this, I’m in an excellent mood on the drive, despite it being hours long. Having said that, I am starting to get anxious to get out of this van and get moving, so I’m looking forward to the end of the trip.

  I decide to turn on my stereo and put my Spotify playlist on random, internally squealing when the soundtrack of Moulin Rouge starts to play from the speakers. Okay, so maybe the squeal wasn’t just internal, but don’t judge me, okay?

  Within a few minutes, I’m belting out the tunes, wind dancing through my hair as I serenade the mountains with my rendition of ‘Lady Marmalade’. I’m halfway decent, if I do say so myself, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when some random person pulls up next to me and laughs. Oh well. I’m out here living my best life and they’re stuck laughing at people on the highway, big whoop.

  I’ve just hit the chorus when my phone rings. I’m about to hit ignore when I look down and see it’s my mother, deciding that I better take it. Not only should you never ignore a call from your mother, but my baby brother is sick, and each time the phone rings my heart sinks and skips just a little bit. I’ve always got this sickening feeling in my gut like something bad is going to happen, and I’d hate to miss something if I didn’t pick up the phone.

  So I pull over to the side of the road and lower the volume, answering the call.

  “Hey, Mama. I’m driving, can I call you back?”

  “Actually, bambina,” she says with a sigh, her voice clearly strained, “This won’t take long and I’d rather you know.”

  Uh oh. This doesn’t sound good. I can feel my heart beating faster and I take a deep breath, the worry starting to pile up.

  “Okay. What is it, Mama? You’re freaking me out.”

  “Sorry. It’s your brother, Carlo. He’s been bumped up the waiting list for a heart transplant again and…Well, I just thought that you’d want to know is all. I didn’t want you to find out and think I was trying to hide anything from you.”

  I nod with a sigh and lean my head against the window, wishing that she would have called with better news. But on the bright side, her news could have been much worse, so at least there’s that.

  “Okay, Ma, I appreciate you telling me.”

  “Of course, Gina. I just…I just wish that there was something else we could do to get him further on the list, closer to getting a heart. It worries me sicker with each passing day.”

  “I know, Ma, I know. Look,” I say calmly, forcing a smile to my lips and hoping it shows through on the other end. “Why don’t you go and rest and sit down? I’ll try and look into anything I can do to speed things along, okay? I’ll make a few calls, and see if anyone knows of any way to get him moved ahead. How does that sound?”

  I’m not sure that I can actually do anything, but that’s clearly calmed my mother down a bit, which is a relief.

  “Look, Ma, I’ve got to go. I’m on my way to a job. But I’ll be in touch, okay?”

  We say our goodbyes and I hang up before pulling back onto the highway, feeling both worried and relieved. I’m relieved that the phone call was an update, rather than my mother telling me something bad had happened or his condition had worsened, but at the same time I’m also worried. He’s got a heart condition and needs a new heart ASAP, and he’s been on the list long enough. I’m not entirely sure of what I can do to help, if anything, but one thing that I do know is that maybe Dawn can help. At the very least, I’m sure she’d listen to me, which I appreciate more than she realizes.

  So I keep driving, anxious to get to the chalet so I can get to work and talk to Dawn.

  3

  Dawn

  My car finally rolls up to the entrance of the family chalet, and I have to double-check that I didn’t take a wrong turn somewhere down the road. Where before there were outdated white wall panels and rusting rails on the balconies, sleek wrought iron banisters and tall windows now stand boldly and beautifully. I slam the car door eagerly, almost running two steps at a time to the front door in order to further admire the astounding progress my builder and I have made. We’ve been working on the restoration for awhile now, but looking at the building objectively and actually being able to see the shelter coming together takes my breath away.

  Inside, as the echo of my stilettos against the bare wooden floor reminds me of the horrid maroon carpet that once inhabited every room, I parade through the halls and note the changes that have been made. The grim, walnut colored wood paneling that weighed down each wall has been stripped away and replaced with pristine white paint. Recessed lighting aids the floor-to-ceiling windows in creating a cheerful atmosphere, and I remind myself to truly thank Gina for executing my vision so successfully.

  Though I pride myself in being fashion-forward and trendy, I couldn’t have done any of this without Gina’s handiness and penchant for challenging renovations. She was the one, after all, who persuaded me to rip up the carpets in the hopes of finding wood underneath. I had always hated those carpets, but at her suggestion, I went into a nervous fit about the effort required to replace the flooring if she was wrong. Gina had simply smirked at me then, her emerald eyes dancing as she tore the first maroon square to reveal high quality oak—we both laughed and split a bottle of wine after that to celebrate.

  As I drift from room to room, mentally noting down what each empty space will become when the women’s shelter finally opens, I realize how much fun I’ve had working on this project with Gina. We’ve had many late nights and early mornings here, working alongside each other and joking at every step. It’s almost a shame that we’ll be putting on the finishing touches in only a few minutes. Yet, I know that the sooner we finish, the sooner women in need of escaping abuse can have somewhere safe to go.

  The thought hits hard, and I am more passionate than ever about completing the shelter. Memories of my last relationship creep up to haunt me, and I quickly shake them away. There are other women out there currently experiencing the same abuse, perhaps worse, and I hope Gina will arrive soon so we can open the doors to these women as soon as possible.
/>   Just as I whip out my cellphone to ask Gina when she will be here, my phone rings. I answer without looking, a smile already forming on my lips. “Gina! I was just about to call you. Are you almost here?”

  “Hi, Dawn. No, this is Meg.”

  My lawyer? The grin softens, and my brows furrow in confusion. “Was there something wrong with the last payment I sent? I can send a new wire now if needed, but it should have gone through.”

  Meg chuckles nervously, quickly assuring me that my assumption was wrong. “Ms. Patterson, I’m fully aware that money is no issue when it comes to you and your family. That’s not why I called…”

  I’m not sure whether to be offended or to agree with her, because she’s right. The last time I spoke with Meg, she was helping me understand wealthy Uncle Arthur’s last will and testament —the will that gave me access to his beloved chalet. My heart hitches in my chest then, and I feel myself struggling to vocalize the words hanging on the tip of my tongue. “Is there an issue that came up with the will?”

  The other line is silent, aside from Meg’s panicked breathing. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say it’s an issue with the will…you still get to keep your inheritance, at least.”

  She says nothing more, and I have to press further to get the truth out of her. “What is it then, how bad is it? I’d just appreciate the bad news right away.” I can see it now, all that Gina and I have worked towards fading away. Hundreds of battered women with nowhere to turn, all because of some legal issue that Meg is too frightened to share.