The Billionaire's Counterfeit Girlfriend (11 page)

His words hit like a physical blow, and Mark listened, his spine rigid.

“Don’t be a judgmental idiot. Whatever you’re doing with Hilary will end in three months or less. Then you’ll be back to dating your young big-chested blondes because that’s who you are, what you like.” Salazar stood, his motion fluid and elegant. “Do you think your mother’s a blameless saint in all this? I know about her lovers. But I’m willing to look the other way for the sake of the family. I hope you’re old enough to understand.” He adjusted his cuff links and walked away, leaving Mark stunned.

How could Salazar know about the men? Mark knew…but only because he’d inadvertently walked in on one of them when he’d been nine. His mother hadn’t realized and neither had her lover, but Mark had figured out that she was doing what Dad was doing to her.

And unlike Salazar, Ceinlys hadn’t done it to kill time. She’d done it to seek comfort and solace because she couldn’t get either from her husband.

Not when giving him five children hadn’t been enough to change him.

Slowly, Mark made his way to the house. Hilary stood in the foyer, hugging herself. She was pale, and her eyes were red like she was on the verge of breaking down.

This was what he’d done to her by kissing her.

He wanted to show everyone they were wrong about him. He wasn’t an asshole who didn’t deserve the love of a good woman because he couldn’t stay put for more than three months. But he couldn’t use Hilary as his guinea pig. If his father was right about him and he couldn’t change, he’d only end up hurting her.

A woman who wasn’t loved the way she deserved to be loved would warp and harden and become bitter. He’d seen it happen with his mother. The slow poisoning of a life.

Hilary deserved better.

“Hey—” she began at the same time he said, “I—”

Mark cleared his throat. “Go ahead.”

“Yeah. Well. I should get going now. I have a ton of work to do,” she said lamely.

“Okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and fisted them tightly.

“I’m probably going to be very busy in the next several days. You know how it is.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll have the clothes, shoes and everything messengered to you as soon as possible.”

“It’s okay. I’ll send somebody to pick them up.”

“No, really. I don’t mind.”

Damn it. This was what their conversation had been reduced to? This horrible awkward stiffness? “Okay. I’ll drop you off at Jo’s so you can get your car.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He managed a smile even though what he really wanted to do was punch the stone wall of the house until his hands bled.

But even that pain wouldn’t be enough to blot out the bitter misery in his heart.

Over the next few days there was no word from Mark. Hilary told herself this was exactly what she wanted until the Pryce family party on the Fourth. Still, every time she walked into her office and saw an empty desk, she felt a twinge of disappointment.

How stupid.

The more affectionate and sweet he was, the worse it would be for her. Given his reputation, people were already calling her a Quarterly Girl. Did she want to make it harder by actually feeling something for him?

Except she was afraid it might be too late. He made her feel so alive and special just by being near her and looking at her in that way that said she was the center of his universe. She knew she wasn’t—he’d probably done that with every one of his Quarterly Girls—but her heart didn’t care.

Thankfully, the picnic hadn’t been a total disaster. She hadn’t let the kiss go too far. She wasn’t like her mother and aunt, who would do anything to please a man in their lives. Hilary pleased and took care of herself first. Counting on a man to do so would be a monumental mistake.

On the fifth day of radio silence, Gavin looked up as he finished dictating instructions. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look really pale.”

“I’m fine,” she managed to say in a normal voice, despite the scratchy and sore throat. She smiled for his benefit. “Didn’t get much sleep last night is all. In fact, I was just about to get more coffee. Want some?”

He shook his head. “I hope you get better sleep tonight.”

“Thanks.” Hilary went to the break room and got her fifth coffee of the day. She didn’t even have much appetite—her stomach felt too unsettled for anything solid, and nights were spent mostly tossing and turning.

She started back toward her office and swayed. Little black and gray dots appeared in her vision, and she blinked rapidly, one hand on the wall for support.

“Hey, you all right?” Sally said, trotting toward her.

“Fine.” Hilary looked down and saw coffee on both the floor and her shoes. “Crap. I made a mess. Sorry.” She grabbed a fistful of paper towels to mop it up. Then she promptly lost her balance and lurched forward.

“Oh my god!” Sally’s voice sounded distant for some reason. “Hilary!”

Hilary sensed people converging around her. What was going on? Why did she feel so confused? The gears in her head turned like they were covered with sticky glue.

She felt a strong masculine hand on her shoulder. “Hilary, are you all right? You need to go to the hospital or something?”

“No, it’s okay.” She blinked up at Gavin. “I’m sorry, it’s just me being clumsy. Did I trip and fall?”

“No, you fainted.” His face took on the look that said he’d just made up his mind to do something. “I’m having Thomas drive you to the hospital.” He pulled out his phone.

“No!” Thomas was Gavin’s trusted chauffeur. Her boss never went anywhere without Thomas driving him, and she couldn’t take him.

“Yes. And you’re going to stay put,” Gavin ordered, then spoke rapidly into the phone.

Hilary managed to sit up with Sally’s help and said, “There’s no need to make a big deal about this. I just need to go home and get some rest, that’s all. Just call me a cab, please?”

“No. Thomas’s going to drive you and make sure you get home safely. It’s non-negotiable.” Gavin frowned. “You should’ve called in sick if you didn’t feel well.”

“But I never call in sick.”

“First time for everything, Hilary. And don’t come in tomorrow.”

“Why not?” she said, half-panicked.

“Because you’re sick and it’s Saturday. Stay home and recuperate. I’m being a terrible boss for even saying this, but I do need you healthy by next week”

She exhaled softly while looking up at her boss’s concerned face. “You do?”

“Yes. How am I going to function without you?” He gave her a small smile. “Now, go get some rest and recuperate. That’s an order.”

* * *

Bebe finished the cheapest burger Mickey D’s offered and washed it down with the dregs of her soft drink. She couldn’t believe Hilary had split the day after she’d come home. How the hell could her cousin do that? Did she think she was too good to share the same roof?

Bitch.

God, Bebe couldn’t stand what Hilary had become. She used to be so much fun, drinking, hanging out and smoking pot. Now she was this straight-laced boring ass suit who went to work and kissed her boss’s butt every day so he wouldn’t fire her. She wasn’t holding down her job because of her smarts, that was for sure. She’d been a C student in high school, and she hadn’t done that great in college either. What was that boring shit she’d studied? Women’s literature or something?

So pretentious.

Hilary didn’t have to be so self-righteous and smug about the fact that she had a fancy job. Her cousin probably held on to it by blowing her boss every morning or something. Freddie had told her Hilary had mad oral skills.

The girl could be less uptight and more fun.

And Bebe’s reappearance in her life should’ve reminded Hilary how much fun they could have together if she’d just loosen back up. But nooooo. She wouldn’t even return Bebe’s calls about Mr. Dark and Handsome. And rich too from the looks of it. She’d made a note of the car Mark drove. Bugattis were expensive.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Hilary probably thought she could cut Bebe out of it. She always tried to deny where she came from—how they were all the same. It didn’t matter what Hilary wore or where she worked. She was still a Rosenberg girl, and Rosenberg girls laughed easy, fucked easier and didn’t care about anything except living as large as possible in the moment.

Just ’cuz Bebe didn’t go to some college didn’t mean she didn’t know how to use Google. She’d already found out who the guy was, where he worked and how much money he had.

Two billion and change. Hilary had done well for herself.

It was time she shared.

* * *

Mark sighed, looking at the empty restaurant from behind the bar counter. La Mer had just cleared its massive lunch crowd, who’d collectively dropped an ungodly sum on the best seafood the city had to offer.

He should be proud and happy about the continued success, but instead he was tired and restless. His hand closed around his phone. He wanted to call Hilary and see how she was doing, but something made him hesitate. She might be happier without him pestering her.

In the last five days, he’d been running an experiment to put his father’s theory to the test. Granted, it hadn’t even been four weeks since he’d asked Hilary out, but if he was really like his father, somebody else should’ve snagged his interest by now…right?

But it didn’t matter how many trendy clubs and bars he hit with Iain or how many young, receptive blondes he’d run into. The only woman he could think about was Hilary.

So what did that mean?

Larry, the maître d’, came toward him at a rapid pace, his face dark. “There’s somebody here to see you,” he said in a clipped voice.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a woman like her before. I tried to get rid of her, but she insisted you would see her.”

Huh. Strange. If Larry didn’t recognize her, it couldn’t be one of his exes or family or friends. Was it the heiress? What was her name again…? Oh yeah, Katarina.

“If you want, I can call the cops,” Larry offered.

“It’s all right.” If it was Katarina, calling cops on her would embarrass his mother. “I’ll see her.”

To his surprise it was Hilary’s cousin at the entrance. It took a moment to recall that her name was Bebe. Her hair was stylishly curled, but she wore a cheap white cotton shirt—again overly thin and without any bra underneath—and ripped denim shorts. It was a miracle Larry hadn’t called the cops without bothering Mark first. Her strappy sandals tokked on the marbled floor as she turned. Her makeup was dark and laid on a bit too thick. It had a cheap chalkiness that highlighted her wrinkles.

“Hey, you,” she said with a smile.

“What can I do for you?” He kept his tone just polite enough to be discouraging without being rude. She was Hilary’s cousin, after all.

Something sharp and scornful flashed through her eyes, but it disappeared as she smiled even more broadly. “I was wondering what you’re doing with my cousin.”

“That’s…really none of your business.” He didn’t trust a woman who showed more teeth than warmth when she smiled.

“It
is
my business.” She moved closer to him. “Look, I know all there is to know about Hilary, okay? We grew up together. And I know what you want—Hilary. But given the kind of guy you are, you’re probably doing everything wrong.”

Mark regarded the woman. It was true; he didn’t know that much about Hilary. She rarely talked about personal stuff—her history, her childhood—and he hadn’t probed. What was so important that Bebe had to share? His gut told him it wasn’t anything good, but he wanted to know. Knowledge was power, even if it was just petty gossip. And hearing what Bebe had to say might shed some light on what had hurt Hilary at Eliza’s event. “All right. Come to my office.”

Bebe smiled and followed him back through the restaurant. Mark felt his staff’s curious gazes and ignored them. The people who worked at La Mer were discreet, and they wouldn’t blab about a poorly dressed woman going into his office.

He left the door open and sat behind his desk. She took an empty chair without any prompting from him and crossed her legs. “Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she began, “but you’re dating a Rosenberg girl. You don’t do roses, evening gowns and things.”

“Really?” he drawled.

“We’re a family of wild women doing wild things.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Did she tell you about us?”

“No.”

Bebe smirked. “How silly of her. We’re sort of like half-sisters slash cousins. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“No. And if you don’t get to the point in the next five seconds, I’m throwing you out.” He didn’t have the patience for whatever game she wanted to play.

She smirked. “My mom and her mom were identical twins. And at one point, they were doing the same guy. Hilary and I were born on the same day and we have the same father.”

A sudden coldness coiled in his belly. “You have the same father and you were born on the same day?” What the hell. And he thought
his
parents had a messed-up marriage. “So your father was cheating on your mom with—”

Bebe’s expression changed to one of intense concern. “Oh no. Oh my gosh, sorry if I gave you that impression. No, I mean…my mom and aunt—Hilary’s mom—
shared
him.” She tilted her head. “Do you understand?”

Mark’s mind blanked out for a moment. She couldn’t possibly be saying what he thought she was saying.

“Yes, Mark. They were in a ménage.” She leaned back comfortably. “And that’s how Hilary and I grew up, watching our mothers and our father. When he got tired of us, he’d take off for a bit, then come back when he missed us. It was our normal everyday life.”

Normal?
There was nothing normal about what she was saying.

She shifted. “Hilary and I would’ve had one ourselves, too…until she chickened out at the last minute.”

Hilary? In a threesome with her half-sister/cousin? He couldn’t wrap his mind around that at all.

“Giving her fancy dresses and stuff? You’re not going to land her in bed that way. You don’t treat a Rosenberg girl like a princess. You treat her the way she understands, does that make sense?”