Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (80 page)

I told the immigration people
what you did.

You can imagine how I felt when I
heard you were going out with her, of all people. I didn’t think it through, I
just wanted to lash out, and I wish I hadn’t. When I found out it was fake, I
couldn’t believe my luck at first, and I acted on my first instinct. It was a
terrible idea. I’m sorry.

I don’t know if they will have
contacted you by now, so I’m not sure if this is a warning, or just an apology.
I hope that you can convince them I lied about you two. It shouldn’t be too
hard. I’m sure I’ll get in trouble, but I’m not sure that I care anymore.

If you’re wondering how I knew,
you might want to consult Mr. Wegman. He’s got a weakness for blondes, and he
doesn’t lock up his papers very carefully at night when he’s been drinking. If
I were you, I’d find a new lawyer.

I’m so sorry, darling. I couldn’t
help it.

All my love,

Flo

“Florence?” I said,
disbelieving. I looked up at him.

His face said everything I really
needed to know.

“We were…” he hesitated
for a long moment. “…involved…years ago. The breakup wasn’t…it was ugly.
Neither one of us conducted ourselves well, I think. When she came to me later
looking for work, I had my second thoughts of course…but I felt bad for how I’d
treated her during that time; how could I turn her down when she needed my
help?” He squeezed his eyes shut, still processing the whole thing.
“And I suppose…I suppose…” His eyes flew open. “Christ. Wegman.
I have to go over there - I have to make him burn the contract. Immediately. I
have to…”

“Please don’t kill
him,” I said, only half in jest.

“You think I want to add
murder one to my already considerable list of crimes?” He grabbed his
jacket and keys. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Just -
don’t.”

Alone with my thoughts after he
slammed the door behind him, I tried to imagine what kind of bitterness would
lead someone to do what Florence did. I never would have counted her among my
close friends, but it was still a shock to the system that she had the capacity
to do something like that.

I lay on the sofa, staring at the
ceiling, until Daniel got home. He looked exhausted. He threw his keys on the
table and came over to the sofa, collapsing next to my feet.

“I’m sorry I never told
you,” he said. “About me and Flo. I didn’t think it would
matter.”

“You couldn’t have
known,” I said. I wasn’t angry with him. Why should I expect him to tell
me that he’d once dated her? What difference did it make? It wasn’t like we
were in a relationship, or anything crazy like that.

I felt gnawed-out and empty
inside. All my life, I’d run up against little stumbling blocks - annoyances,
really - small things that felt much bigger at the time, but were ultimately
solvable, more or less. But this was different. I’d never grappled with a problem
that was truly bigger than I was. This was no overdue utility payment or busted
transmission. This was a potential felony charge, this was five years in
prison. This was my life, changed forever. And not in the way I’d signed on
for.

In retrospect, of course, it
seemed insane that I had ever agreed to this arrangement. Even as careful as
we’d been - all the effort we’d gone to, trying to make sure we seemed
legitimate - all it took was one careless slip by his lawyer and a vengeful ex.
Something neither one of us could have seen coming, not from a million miles
away.

We went to bed late that night,
and I don’t think either of us slept at all. I went about my day mechanically,
not really aware of what I was actually doing, and Daniel came home from work
early just to sit on the sofa and stare off into space, with a slight frown on
his face.

Things went on like that for days
- we barely spoke, except to re-hash the same conversations over and over
again, how could this have happened, can you believe it, what’s going to happen
if…

Daniel had dark circles under his
eyes, growing darker every day. I was sure I didn’t look any better, but I
hardly left the house, so it didn’t matter.

I couldn’t remember the last time
I’d felt this awful. It was the sort of stress that wears away at you slowly,
the kind that rarely spikes to panic proportions, but that sits quietly,
draining your energy with every heartbeat, until you can hardly keep your eyes
open - but of course, you can’t sleep. It’s ever-present, murmuring awful
thoughts in your ear, until it commands nearly all of your attention. You want
nothing more than to ignore it, but you can’t.

One morning, after weeks of this,
I went to fetch the mail as I always did. In spite of everything, I still felt
a spike of mixed fear and anticipation every time I unlocked the box - I don’t
know what I expected to find.

But today, I found it.

There was an envelope from the
INS. I opened it with shaking hands, my vision going black around the edges as
I struggled to focus on the words.

Dear Mr. Thorne,

Your application for permanent
residency has been processed and accepted…

I fumbled with my phone, barely
having the presence of mind to rush back to the apartment before I called so I
wasn’t babbling about the INS and residency applications in front of God and
everyone.

He answered just as I slammed the
front door behind me.

“There’s a letter,” I
blurted out, “it says they accepted your application. Does that
mean…?”

He was silent for a moment.
“I think so,” he said. “I think…I think so.”

“Congratulations,” I
said.

“I’m coming home early. I
need to arrange some things. And I’d like to see it.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Right. See you in a
minute.”

I sat down, heavily, on the sofa.
So this was it. This was what it had all been for. Why did I feel like punching
a hole in the goddamn wall?

Chapter Fifteen

When Daniel walked through the
door, he didn’t say a word to me - didn’t even shed his laptop bag and coat at
the door. He just walked straight over to me with his hand outstretched, and I
held out the letter obediently. His eyes scanned all over it, quickly, from top
to bottom and then once more.

“Well,” he said,
setting it down on the coffee table.

“Well,” I agreed.

He finally lifted the strap of
the bag over his head, setting it down on the floor, and stripped out of his
coat. He sat down next to me and stared at his hands for a moment.

“I’ve been consulting with
some people,” he said. “My new lawyer - chosen very carefully, I
promise. I don’t think she’ll have quite as much of a weakness for Flo as
Wegman did. And I talked to some people on the inside who are pulling for me.
They’ve all agreed that we’re through the woods now. There’ll be no more
interviews or surprise visits. The decision’s been made, the file’s been sealed.
So really - there’s no reason to keep doing this.”

I stared at him.
“Sorry?”

“I know what the contract
says.” He met my eyes, finally. I couldn’t quite read his face. “Six
more months. But I’m willing to break it, if you are. I can have the money by
tomorrow.”

I clasped my fingers together
tightly in my lap. “I think that’s a little premature. I promise I’ll stop
throwing things at your head.”

He let out a little huff of
laughter. “Regardless,” he said. “I think this will be better
for both of us. Don’t you?”

I bit my lip. “I always
just…I guess I just figured we’d stick to the terms of our agreement.”

“I did too. But wouldn’t you
rather go home?”

“I’m not sure what you want
me to say.”

“I’m sorry,” he said,
after a moment’s hesitation. “I thought this would be an easy decision for
you. I wouldn’t have brought it up, otherwise.”

“I just don’t think it’s a
good idea to assume we’re out of the woods,” I said. “Do you?”

He was tapping out an abstract
rhythm on his knee, his fingers seeming to move almost of their own accord.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, finally. “But I
really do think it’ll be better if we don’t have to see each other.”

My throat felt very dry.
“Better for who?” I said.

He didn’t answer - he just stood
and walked away, up the stairs to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It
seemed our fight wasn’t over.

He was right. I had to remind
myself of that, forcefully, because I felt like I’d been punched in the
stomach. We were getting entangled with each other in a way that simply wasn’t
practical. Proximity had fooled us into believing we were…if not in love, then
at least some reasonable facsimile of it.

Sitting there alone on the sofa,
I remembered a beginning psychology class I’d taken in college, because it
seemed like the easiest way to fulfill a science requirement. The professor had
gone around the room and asked everyone to name the place where they’d
encountered their last romantic interest - a chorus of school, work, school,
work, school, school, and work followed. The teacher explained that people feel
more affection and emotional investment with people to whom they are close in
proximity. We don’t date classmates and coworkers just because it’s
convenient, we do it because we are literally close to them.

I’d been so, so stupid to think I
could live with a man who looked like Daniel and not find myself
head-over-heels for him within a few months. No matter what I “knew,”
the deeper parts of my brain - the parts I couldn’t control - would whisper
sweet nothings until I lost myself in feelings that didn’t make any logical
sense at all.

A man like Daniel had no time for
someone like me. He’d made that abundantly clear.

Finally, I managed to drag myself
up off the sofa and over to my studio, in the spare bedroom. I folded up my
easel and packed up all my charcoals and pastels, getting everything ready for
a move to…

…where the hell would I go?

This whole time, I’d been
picturing myself going back to my old apartment. But of course, that wasn’t
“my apartment” anymore. Someone else lived there now. I hadn’t
expected to grapple with this question so soon, and now I was completely lost.
Where on earth would I go? And I had to consider that quite literally. With two
million dollars, I could go anywhere I wanted and start an entirely new life.

Daniel had left his laptop bag
sitting in the living room where he’d dropped it, so I pulled out the computer
and started to browse. After a few minutes, in spite of myself, I found myself
back to browsing apartments that were ten minutes away. I didn’t particularly
love this city, but at least it was familiar.

There was something to be said
for familiarity.

When Daniel finally emerged from
the bedroom, I half-expected him to have packed all my clothes into liquor
boxes. He hadn’t, of course. I wondered if he expected me to do it.

Which reminded me - I was going
to need some boxes.

While he stood in front of the
open fridge, staring, as if he expected some previous unknown foodstuffs to
have appeared in the last few hours, I heard his phone go off in his pocket. I
made the barest effort to pretend I wasn’t listening, but of course I was.

“Lindsey,” he said,
turning to look at me. “Hi.”

I perked up.

“You’re going to be in town
this weekend? Well, that’s great news. Just you?”

I watched his face carefully, but
he betrayed almost nothing.

“Of course you can stay
here,” he said. “Maddy can move her art supplies out of the big spare
room….no, no, don’t worry about it, it’s no problem.”

After they’d finalized their
plans and said their goodbyes, I stood up and headed into the kitchen. Daniel
shoved the phone back in his pocket.

“Well,” he said.
“I guess we’d better delay things until she’s gone home, at least.”

“See,” I said.
“This is the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

He shrugged. “If you’d
already moved out, I just would have told her you were away at an…art
conference.” He pulled a beer out of the fridge. “That’s a thing that
exists, isn’t it?”

“With all my clothes and
personal belongings?” I countered.

“And the place is being
sprayed for cockroaches, so she can’t come over.”

“Sure, there’s no way she’ll
get suspicious.”

“We can talk about this
after she leaves,” he said, meaningfully, prying the lid off his beer and
tossing it into the trash can. From his tone, it was quite clear he wasn’t
really open to further negotiations.

Well. We’d see about that.

*

Lindsey arrived on Friday
evening, all smiles and sass like usual. She hugged me tightly, then promptly
took us out to a late dinner and bought us enough drinks that we were actually
able to act like a couple again.

Daniel retired to bed early,
leaving me and Lindsey sitting on the sofa, quietly chit-chatting about
everything that came to mind. She’d managed to land another big client who was
even more insufferable than the last, so we chuckled over her stories for a
while as the clock ticked quietly in the background.

After a silence, she switched
gears.

“Is everything going okay
between you two?”

I hesitated. Obviously, we
weren’t pretending as well as I’d thought. “I guess so,” I said,
although nothing could be further from the truth. “It’s just tough right
now. I’m not really sure why.”

“Danny tends to bring his
work stress home with him,” Lindsey said, stretching her legs out in front
of her. “He has trouble letting it go. I’m sure that’s not easy for
you.”

“Yeah,” I said,
vaguely, hugging my knees to my chest. The urge to be honest with her was
almost overwhelming me. It was welling up in my throat. But I couldn’t. I knew
I couldn’t.

“Hey, are you hungry?”
Lindsey glanced up at the clock. “Jesus. It’s been ages since dinner. No
wonder. I think I’m going to order a pizza, you want any?”

“Sure, I guess. Any kind.
I’m not picky.” I played with a loose thread on my shirt while Lindsey
made her phone call. I was trying to think of a way I could get advice from her
without actually being honest about what was going on. The opportunity to get
her unique perspective on Daniel’s behavior was just too tempting.

When she sat back down, I had
something prepared.

“Do you ever feel like
Daniel’s sort of…distant?”

“Oh, all the time,”
Lindsey replied. “He’s just trying to protect himself - I don’t know why,
but I always figured he let his guard down around you.”

“Maybe not as much as I
thought,” I admitted. “Sometimes it’s like I just can’t read him. I
have no idea what he wants from me.”

Lindsey was nodding, slowly.
“It’s not easy,” she said. “I wish I had a simple answer for
you, but even I can’t get him to open up, most of the time. He has to get there
on his own. Most people do, really.” She looked off into the distance,
thoughtfully. “He’s a tough nut to crack, that one.”

The buzzer went off.

“Well, that was fast,”
Lindsey said, getting to her feet. “Somebody’s getting an extra good
tip.”

She flung the door open.

A voice came into the room from
the hallway:

“Where is he?”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Florence stormed into the room,
unkempt and rain-drenched, dripping all over the floor. I must have stared at
her like a deer in the headlights. Even knowing what I now knew about her, I
still couldn’t quite reconcile the sight of her, unhinged like this, with the
woman I’d known.

“Who the fuck are you?”
Lindsey demanded, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh at her, or
punch her in the stomach.

Florence was already charging
towards the staircase. Lindsey ran after her, grabbing her arm and dragging her
back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, crazy. Just where exactly do you think
you’re going?”

Florence fought and twisted, her
eyes dangerously wild. “I have to talk to him,” she insisted. “I
have to talk to Daniel. He’ll want to see me.”

“Maddy, call the cops.”
Lindsey was maintaining a vice grip. “I don’t think Danny needs to talk to
you, honey.”

“DANIEL!” Flo shrieked,
loud enough to make me flinch. The bedroom door popped open a few moments
later.

The look on his face was
priceless.

He thundered down the stairs,
wearing just his pajama pants, but still managing to look incredibly
threatening. I actually took a step back as he reached the main floor,
snatching Flo’s arm away from his sister’s grasp and staring her down.

“What are you doing
here?” he snarled, his chest rising and falling quickly with every breath.

“I just needed to see
you,” said Flo, very sweetly, her attitude completely changed. “Your
friend here let me right in.”

“I’m his sister,” said
Lindsey, frostily. “And I was expecting a pizza.”

Flo was giving him the puppy-dog
face; it made me feel vaguely sick to my stomach. “I just want to talk to
you, Dan. Please. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

Daniel’s jaw twitched. “I’m
not afraid of you,” he said.

“Oh, really?” Flo’s
eyes flickered to Lindsey. “Does she already know?”

“There’s nothing to
know,” said Daniel, through clenched teeth.

“Sure, I guess you’re
right,” Florence replied, still looking at Lindsey. “Assuming you’re
aware that his marriage is a fake.”

Lindsey closed her eyes for a
minute, letting out a long, deep sigh.

“Of course I know,” she
said. “I’m his big sister, you lunatic.”

Now, everyone in the room was
staring at her.

“We can talk about all that
later,” said Lindsey, with a dismissive gesture. “The important thing
is, are you going to get the fuck out of here and leave him alone for the rest
of your natural life? Because if not, you’re going to buy yourself a world of
hurt.”

“Fine,” Florence spat.
Daniel let her go, roughly, and she slunk towards the door. “I hope you’re
very happy together.”

And with that, she was gone.

Lindsey slammed and locked the
door behind her.

“Unbelievable,” she
said.

“Why didn’t you tell
me?” Daniel demanded, walking towards her. “It would have saved everyone
a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t know,” Lindsey
replied, indignant. “Does it matter? You’re the one with the fake fucking
marriage, little brother.”

“I can’t believe you,”
said Daniel, but there was no real hostility in his voice.

“I can’t believe you,” she
countered. “Lying to your own sister. You should know by now that it never
works. Anybody with half a brain can put the pieces together.”

“Well, for your information,
I’ve got my citizenship now.”

“Good for you. You can fool
the government, but you can’t fool me. Just keep that in mind, okay?”

She turned and began walking
towards her room, but stopped halfway there and turned to look at both of us.

“Oh - by the way - you two
realize you’re really in love with each other, right?”

After she shut the guest room
door behind her, Daniel turned to me. “Ignore her,” he said.
“She’s just trying to obnoxious.”

I stared at him. “That’s
what you feel compelled to comment on? Really?”

“What else is there to
say?”

I didn’t actually have an answer
for him.

The buzzer went off again.

“That’s got to be the pizza,
this time,” I said.

Daniel looked through the
peephole carefully before he opened the door.

Once the pizza was paid for, he
dropped it on the coffee table and sat down, opening the box and reaching for a
slice. “Lindsey won’t mind, as long as we leave some for her,” he
said.