The Billionaire's Counterfeit Girlfriend (21 page)

Hilary put her fry down and lowered her gaze, unable to look at him. It was obvious how she’d wronged him. She should never have tried to use him to compensate for other men’s mistakes. Walt deserved so much more than somebody like her. Maybe it was karma that her relationship with Mark had blown up in her face. “No. I don’t think Mark and I are going to be able to work out our problems. He and I are too different. This is about you and me, Walt. We were always missing something. I don’t know… Chemistry or sizzle or something.”

“You think our relationship isn’t worth fighting for because we don’t have animal attraction?” Walt asked quietly.

“No. It’s me. I’ve been using you in my own way to run away from my past. It was doomed from the very beginning. I’m so sorry, Walt.”

“Well.” He finished his coffee, his fingers rigid around the mug. “At least you’re eager to analyze. You could’ve just said, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’”

“Walt…”

“Forget it. I just wanted the bracelet back.” He got up and left, leaving her alone in the sandwich shop. She watched him disappear into the crowd.

It hurt to realize she was losing Walt. Not because she loved him. She knew she never had. But Walt was a nice guy, and now somebody she could’ve been friends with was opting out of her life.

Mark had ruined her, and she might never rebound.

“Hilary, can I see you for a second?” Gavin asked over the intercom the following Monday.

“Sure.”

“I left the Morning Star fund papers at home. Do you mind picking them up?”

“Now?” she asked.

“Yup.”

She frowned. She didn’t remember Morning Star being so time sensitive. On the other hand, he was the financial genius, not her.

“Thomas will drive you,” Gavin continued.

“He will?” This was getting a bit freaky. Thomas’s duties didn’t include chauffeuring her around.

“Otherwise you won’t be able to unlock the gates,” he said. “Just bring the documents a little after lunch, and that should be fine.”

“Okay.” She grabbed her purse and saw Thomas in front of the building, impeccably dressed as usual in a crisp dark suit. He opened the door to Gavin’s Bentley, and she climbed in.

“Sorry about the bother,” she said.

“No problem,” Thomas said politely. He put in almost as many hours as Gavin, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Knowing Gavin, Thomas was probably extremely well-compensated for his time.

She leaned back, doing her best to relax. Gavin was sending her to his home. He wouldn’t have done that if he was about to fire her.

Thomas drove past the gates, and Hilary couldn’t help admiring her boss’s gorgeous mansion. It could’ve been completely ostentatious. And it had been until Gavin had bought it. Now, she knew, it had such personal touches, especially after his wife had redone many of the rooms, that it felt sweetly homey…albeit in a billionaire style.

Before she got out, Thomas said, “Everyone’s gone today. So you can just go in.”

She nodded and slipped inside the house. The mansion smelled like thick wine sauces and meat—probably from an earlier meal, although the housekeeper generally cooked simpler Latin American dishes. A few colorful Lego blocks dotted the otherwise pristine marble floor, and she smiled to herself. Not even an army of staff could keep up with her boss’s child.

She climbed the stairs to Gavin’s home office. Hilary knew the interior layout intimately since she’d spent hours hammering out the details with the architect and builders every time Gavin was too busy to deal with them. She saw a big manila folder on his desk, opened it to make sure it was the right documents, and then started back.

Her neck prickled as she reached the first floor. She sniffed, then tilted her head. The heady scent had grown stronger. What was going on?

Then she heard metal clanging and a loud male curse from the kitchen. She peeked in, and her entire body stiffened at the sight of a familiar handsome face.

Mark.

What was he doing here? She stood under the arch between the kitchen and living room, frozen and uncertain. This was precisely the kind of situation she
shouldn’t
be in if she wanted to keep her job. If Ceinlys found out, she’d consider it an act of war. Besides, it wasn’t like Mark and Hilary had anything left to talk about.

Quietly, she took a step back.

“Hilary, come on into the kitchen,” he called out.

She hesitated.

“I know you’re out there. Come on. I don’t bite, and Mom doesn’t know I set this up. If you don’t come to the kitchen now, I’m going to make a huge scene.”

“Nobody’s here to see it,” she called out.

“Which is why I’ll put it on YouTube. There’re a couple of cameras rolling right now.”

Her entire body clenched. “That’s blackmail!”

“True,” he said, sounding entirely too comfortable with the idea.

Eyes narrowed, she marched into the kitchen, looking around for the cameras and keeping her gaze on anything but Mark. A mountain of copper pots and pans sat in the double sinks. Things were bubbling, sizzling and simmering on the stove, and a huge stack of vegetables, fresh herbs and meat sat on the counter. What was the point of all this stuff? He didn’t cook.

Finally curiosity got the best of her. “What is all this?”

“Our lunch,” he said. “And thank you for finally acknowledging my presence here.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Did you plan this?”

“Basically. I told Gavin I really needed to see you.”

“I don’t see any cameras.”

“They’re there. Gavin’s home security system.”

Hilary sat on the stool and shook her head. Her heart hammered in sharp beats. Why was he doing this? If this was some kind of cruel trick, she didn’t think she could stand it. He’d already broken her heart. He didn’t have to grind what was left under his heel. “I should’ve known something like this was going on. It was just too weird that Gavin wanted me to get his documents personally. Usually he asks Thomas for that.”

Mark snorted. “I wasn’t going to slave away for hours for Thomas.” His forearms sported some burns that she didn’t remember. Some of them looked a few days old. A couple of Band-Aids were wrapped around his left index and middle fingers. He looked like he’d gone through some kind of culinary war.

“Do you need help?” she asked to be polite. Maybe that would earn her enough brownie points to leave.

“Nope,” he said. “Sit and relax.”

So she did. He focused intensely, checking numerous kitchen timers, chopping vegetables, stirring sauce pans, inspecting whatever was in the oven and shaving white truffles. She couldn’t believe he’d done all this. He’d told her he didn’t cook for anybody. Why had he bothered?

Finally, he served their lunch. The sauce looked really good—thick and glazy over some kind of poultry, and she waited for him to set the table. He placed a big basket of bread in the center, and she asked, “Did you bake this?”

He shook his head grimly. “On top of all this other stuff? No.”

She wanted to reassure him that it was fine, but kept silent. She didn’t understand his end game. And to make matters worse, they were being filmed. No.
She
was being filmed. Mark didn’t count since it was his own doing.

Finally he sat down, and she studied the food. It looked really,
really
good, like something she might get from a high-end French restaurant.

“It’s duck. André’s super-secret recipe,” he explained. “Slow-roasted for half a day. Try it.”

Silently, she cut a small piece and sampled it. The meat itself was tender and juicy, but it was sort of bland, and the taste of thyme was slightly overwhelming. Then there was the sauce. It wasn’t bad, but it was definitely missing something. Not truffle, since he had put a diamond ring’s worth into the dish.

Mark’s face slowly scrunched up as he chewed, and he put down his fork.

“What?” Hilary asked.

“I thought I got everything right this time.” He pulled out his tablet and scrolled. She could guess how long and complicated the recipe must be given that it came from one of his French chefs and the pots and pans that towered behind him. He swore. “I forgot the kosher sea salt for the sauce.”

“It’s still good,” she said, trying to make him feel better.

“And I forgot to add the port!”

“If we still have it, we should drink it.”

“No, it’s just cooking port.” Mark dug his fingers into his eyes. “André said he wouldn’t even feed my stuff to his pigs.”

Hilary laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I like it.” Maybe it wasn’t as perfect as what André might have made, but it was still pretty good.

“No, don’t eat that.”

“Oh stop. I’m not going to grade you or anything. Can we just eat? I only have an hour for lunch.”

Mark said nothing, and he didn’t eat that much. Maybe his refined palate couldn’t take it. Well, whatever. It was good enough for her.

“You know, I appreciate what you’ve done,” Hilary said. “But you shouldn’t have. This is a pointless gesture. It’s over.”
I loved you
,
and all you wanted from me was the cheap thrill of a ménage a trois
. She could never say the words. Saying them out loud would give them too much power.

“If you’re worried about my mom, don’t. I talked to her, and she won’t get you fired or anything like that.”

“You…talked to her?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Last week. I know she can be a little scary, but really, it’s okay.”

“Well… Thank you,” Hilary said, oddly touched and grateful he’d spoken to Ceinlys on her behalf.

“And Bebe’s gone too. I made sure of it.”

She looked away. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me. I can take care of myself.”

“Hilary, I swear to you, nothing happened between me and Bebe. I should’ve told you she came by, but I just didn’t think it was important. I don’t want her—
never
wanted her—and couldn’t care less what you might have done in the past. That’s not important to me. It has no bearing on how I feel about you.”

She shook her head. He had to stop saying all the right things. She couldn’t gamble on words alone.

“I want us to be together,” he said.

“I don’t.”

“Why not? We get along great. We have fantastic chemistry. People would kill for that. I’ve never felt this way about anybody. I love you.”

I love you
. Those three precious words from the man who had so much power over her already. Freddie had been an arrow shot from a bow. Mark was a thermonuclear warhead. He could utterly destroy her, beyond repair, and she couldn’t risk that much. Her heart bled again, and she bit her lower lip. Would the pain ever stop? “I can’t be with a man whose feelings I can never be certain of.”

“Hilary—”

“You feel like we have something special going on right now, but you’ll change your mind soon enough. You think you want me because you don’t have me. But once you have me back in your life, how long will it be before buyer’s remorse sets in? I don’t want that.”

“I’m not the Mark who had girlfriend after girlfriend. I don’t do Quarterly Girls anymore.”

“Don’t you? Can you really give them up?” Hilary looked at him, her body tight and shaky. “I don’t think you can. We do have great chemistry, but I need more than that. I’m not some twenty-something girl trying to have a little fun. I need to be certain that the man I’m with is going to be true to me for the rest of our lives.”

Suddenly Mark’s jaw slackened. “So that’s why you left. You wouldn’t have dumped me over Mom’s threat if you’d been sure I wouldn’t move on to another woman. You think I’m going to be just like my dad.” He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. You’re not your mother, and I’m not my father. I can change.”

“Yes, but I
have
changed. You haven’t. You were out with a model just a few days ago at Z. I remember seeing her in
Vogue
.”

He looked momentarily confused. “You mean Zhara? She’s just a friend.”

“Who was sitting on your lap, hugging and kissing you, according to the gossip sites. You didn’t seem to object.”

“Oh for— Argh! She’s a lesbian! She doesn’t even like men.”

Not interested in his excuses, Hilary shook her head. “I’m not angry, and I don’t blame you. You were free to be with whoever you wanted.”

“Fine. I’m going to prove to you my feelings aren’t going to change.”

“Tricking me into having lunch with you isn’t going to work.”

His gaze was steady. “Just so you know, I’m not going to stop until I make my point.”

“Do whatever you like. But I’m warning you back, I’m not easy to convince.”

* * *

After Hilary left, Mark threw everything out. It was stupid to think he could convince her by doing something he wasn’t comfortable with. Cooking. How ridiculous. He’d probably starve in a post-apocalyptic world because he didn’t even know how to use a can opener.

Everyone thought his best friend Gavin was the one without any sense of proportion or common sense. When he and his wife Amandine had been going through some rough patches, he’d bought her a pink private jet and almost commissioned a yacht to be built. Well, wait until Mark unleashed everything in his power to convince Hilary he wasn’t some fickle bastard like his father. She’d see what “out of proportion”
really
was.

He pulled out his mobile. He needed every weapon in his arsenal.

Gavin didn’t say a word about the lunch, and Hilary didn’t either. She knew he had only been trying to help, and that he only knew Mark’s side of the story. And that was the way it would stay; she wasn’t going to give him her side. It was none of Gavin’s business, just like his marital issues hadn’t been any of hers.

And there had been no word from Mark since the lunch…as Hilary had privately predicted. A firm “no” and he’d moved on to try his luck with some other woman. Which was fine; she wished both of them well. She could move on, too.

Except that he’d said, “I love you.”

Those three words circled in her head unrelentingly, but there was no way they could be true. He’d said them out of frustration—because she wouldn’t give him another chance—or maybe it was something he said to all the women he dated.