The Billionaire's Counterfeit Girlfriend (5 page)

Ceinlys went on like Hilary hadn’t spoken. “He might be a younger son without the responsibility of carrying on the family legacy, but he’s still beyond you, my child. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

“Do you?” Ceinlys tilted her head and regarded Hilary with narrowed eyes.

“I understand what you’re trying to tell me, and I already know enough about your son’s past.”

“Many a woman has tried to change him.”

“So I’ve heard. But I won’t.”

“Are you saying Mark’s not good enough for you?”

“I’m saying we aren’t compatible.” That hadn’t stopped Hilary from agreeing to help him out, but she wasn’t going to tell that to his mother.

Ceinlys considered. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“He’s worth a couple of billion at least.”

If anybody thought a man’s money could persuade Hilary, they needed to think again. “I’m surrounded by wealthy men, ma’am. I’m not so easily dazzled by it.”

The older woman laughed, the sound oddly brittle. “Ah yes, I forgot. You work for Gavin, who likes to flaunt his money.”

“He does?”

“The jets, the yachts… All quite vulgar. If that isn’t flaunting, what is it?”

“Caring for his wife isn’t flaunting.”

The good humor fled Ceinlys’s face, and she grimaced as though she’d just bitten into a rotten fish. “Perhaps.”

Before Hilary could ponder that, Ceinlys’s expression returned to its former cool politeness. She lowered the partition. “We’re finished,” she told her driver and raised it back up. Settling into her seat, she stared serenely ahead.

Hilary stole a few glances at Ceinlys. She seemed so aloof, Hilary wondered what kind of woman Ceinlys had in mind for Mark. Probably somebody just as distant and expensive as herself. Poor Mark. His actions made more sense now.

The driver took a few more turns before pulling in behind Hilary’s car. As Hilary climbed out of the Mercedes, Ceinlys murmured, “I’m glad we had this talk and understand each other, my dear. I’m sure we’ll get along quite well.”

The door shut, and the car sped off before Hilary could think of a suitable response.

* * *

Hilary unlocked the door and went inside the house, dropping her purse on the half-sagging couch. The carpet was older than Hilary, and the interior hadn’t been painted in years. She wanted to replace the carpet and freshen up the walls, but her aunt had refused. “Waste of money, my dear. You don’t want to stand out in this kind of neighborhood.”

Maybe so, but they didn’t have to live so poorly either.

Her aunt came out immediately. She was in a flowery house dress that reached an inch below the midpoint of her shins. In her late fifties, Lila was short and skinny. She’d lost weight after Hilary’s mother’s death. It worried Hilary, but there didn’t seem to be any way to make her eat like she was supposed to. Lila had insisted she no longer had any appetite. Still, she made an effort when Hilary came home.

“Who was that?” Lila asked.

“Oh. Just somebody I know through work.” Which was sort of true since Hilary had first heard about Ceinlys after she’d started working for Gavin.

“What a beautiful woman. Was that her husband driving?”

Hilary laughed at the idea. Ceinlys would never have married that poorly. “It was her chauffeur.”

“My goodness.” Lila clasped her hands on her wrinkled and sunken cheeks. “Her husband must treat her like a princess.”

If unfaithfulness was part of the royal treatment package. “Depends on how you look at it.”

“Lucky her.” Lila sighed. “It reminds me of how Tim used to love me. He made me feel like the most beautiful fairytale princess. You know…Cinderella.”

If Prince Charming had treated his lady love the way Tim had treated his, the story would’ve been beyond tragic. “Tim was no prince,” Hilary said, unable to help herself.

“Don’t speak like that about your father.”

“He’s also Bebe’s father.” Bebe was Hilary’s cousin, and Lila’s daughter. “Never really knew what to call him. Dad? Uncle Tim?”

“All the more reason to show some respect, young lady.”

“Are you kidding? He got you and Mom pregnant
on the same night
, given that both of you went into labor one after the other and delivered us within thirty minutes of each other.”

“It was only a few minutes apart,” Lila said testily.

From what Hilary had pieced together, the birthing had been some kind of competition—who would have Tim’s baby first. Hilary’s mom had won, but Lila insisted it was the paperwork mix up at the hospital that robbed her of the joy of giving Tim his first child.

Hilary didn’t think it was something worth worrying about, especially out loud. If it had been her in that situation, she would’ve kept her mouth shut out of mortification. But it had been one of many contentious issues in her mother’s and Lila’s relationship.

All because of a stupid worthless man that neither woman had been able to give up.

Tim hadn’t cared about his children any more than he had about their mothers. He’d run off once he’d decided he didn’t enjoy changing diapers. He’d come back after Hilary and Bebe were three only because he’d run out of money and his hooker girlfriend kicked him out for smoking crack in front of her boy.

Hilary stared at her aunt, then thought of her wild cousin who’d left to do god only knew what. None of the Rosenberg women had turned out well…except Hilary. No. Not even her. Just look at how Walt had been using her, just like Tim had used her mother.

Hilary rubbed her temples, suddenly tired. “Never mind, I’m going to bed.”

“Without your dinner? I made quesadillas.”

“I already had some Chinese,” she lied, her appetite gone.

Mark sent another extravagant basket of flowers and chocolate. Since there was no way Hilary could eat that much chocolate, she shared it with everyone, much to their delight.

The entire office didn’t need to know he was interested in her, especially when it was simply a ruse and would end in one month. Still, a part of her thrilled at the attention. It was sweet that he bothered.

As she was going over Gavin’s latest itinerary, her cell phone buzzed. She checked the message. It was from Mark.

We’re going to a charity event this weekend to raise money for some foundation my cousin likes
.

She quickly wrote:
I have other plans
.

A few seconds later, the phone buzzed again.
Don’t you want to feed the hungry? And not just any hungry
,
but children! Think of the children!

Despite herself, she felt her lips curve into a wry grin.
Are you trying to guilt me into going?

Depends
.
Is it working?

No
.

Aren’t you bored? What else are you doing? Say you’ll come
.
It’ll be awesome
.

She pressed her lips, but they curved in a smile anyway.
Fine
.
Send me the deets
.

Putting the phone on the desk, she tried to focus on the morning’s tasks. As unwanted as the situation with Mark was, at the same time it was an excellent rebound charade. If it hadn’t been for Mark’s rather blatant interest so soon after the fiasco in the lobby, she would’ve become the office’s object of pity for a while. There was something sad and pathetic about a woman who got attacked by her boyfriend’s fiancée in the office lobby.

Hilary didn’t do sad and pathetic. She’d rather die first.

After a few hours of getting everything squared away, she checked her emails and frowned when she saw one from Kimberly Sanford, Salazar Pryce’s administrative assistant.

Can we meet for lunch? It’s sort of urgent
.
My treat
.
I need to pick your brain
.

Hilary frowned. She and Kim were pretty close—Hilary was something of a mentor to Kim, who was in her early twenties—and this sounded semi-serious.
Don’t need to pay for my lunch
,
sweetie
, she typed.
Meet me at Galore at noon?
Galore was a small sandwich shop about halfway between Gavin’s and Salazar’s offices.

A few minutes later, a reply came:
Yes
.
Thank you so much!

At a quarter till, Hilary checked in with Gavin to make sure he didn’t need anything else from her, then left for Galore.

It was owned by a Chinese couple—or at least Hilary thought they were Chinese—who made the most amazing sandwiches. The décor was simple with studio lights, dark faux-wood tables and chairs. The moment she walked in, she was in heaven. The warm scent of freshly baked bread and gurgling coffee beckoned. Sweet melodies by Norah Jones came softly from the sound system.

“Long time no see, Hilary,” the owner said behind the counter. Friendly and earnest, he was about medium-height and had coarse, straight jet black hair cropped short. Old grease stains marked the white apron he wore over his T-shirt and shorts.

“Hi there, Min.” She ordered her favorite—a BLT with apple-smoked bacon, organic tomatoes and lettuce, and a side of small fries. Yum.

“Iced latte?” Min asked.

“Yes, please.” She took her tray and took the last available table near the window. Soon after, Kim joined her with a BLT.

Kim was a stunning brunette with a tall model’s body and pouty sexy lips that were in fashion. Unlike a lot of women in L.A., hers were completely natural. She wore a well-fitted red dress and a cute black dress jacket. Her face, with large green eyes and soaring cheekbones, would’ve been flawless if it weren’t for the thin white scar that started near her left ear and stretched all the way down to her mid-jaw. She always wore her hair in long parentheses to cover the jagged imperfection as much as possible.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Kim said.

“No problem.”

“How are you holding up by the way?”

“Oh.” Hilary shrugged. “I’m all right, now that the shock’s worn off.” She cleared her throat, uncomfortable talking about the mess Walt had made. “What’s up?” She bit into her sandwich. It was amazing, especially with the smooth taste of the house specialty mayonnaise. Nobody knew what the cook put in there, but it was cracktastically good.

“Salazar’s quitting.”

“Huh?”

“He’s retiring. He told me so today.” Kim lowered her voice, sipping her latte and looking like she needed something stronger. “Please don’t tell anybody. Not even his wife knows yet.”

Hilary waved a ketchup-laden fry around. “What’s going to happen to the family business?”

“Dane’s probably coming back to take over.”

“Oh.” Dane was the oldest of Salazar’s children. “And…he’s bringing his own assistant?”

“That’s my understanding.”

“Ah, that sucks. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Yeah. So I’ll be job-hunting soon. I’m hoping that having been Salazar’s assistant might help me land a new gig.”

“It’ll definitely help. You’ve been with him for two years. Nobody else’s lasted as long as you have.” Salazar always hired the best looking executive administrative assistants he could, then had affairs with them
after
he’d fired them. Hilary had heard that it was to prevent sexual harassment lawsuits. But he hadn’t done that to Kim—and it wasn’t because she was ugly. Kim was gorgeous, and her boss basically hit on anything that lacked a Y chromosome. Hilary was certain he’d hired Kim precisely because of her youth and beauty, but kept her because she was so good at her job it actually outweighed the sexual considerations.

Of course, that was the sort of recommendation that was hard to put on a résumé.

“The job market’s awful right now, you know,” Kim said, her voice glum. “I just bought a new car and moved into a bigger and better place. My old place was a dump.”

“Has Salazar said anything about your future at the company? Maybe he can use you in some other capacity.”

“I don’t think so. I’m so scared, Hilary. It took me months to land this gig. I thought I was secure after two years. I did everything right.”

“I know.” Hilary patted Kim’s hand. “My real worry isn’t even your losing your job, but what Salazar might do. He might try to make a move on you, since you won’t be working for him anymore.” Hilary didn’t want that for Kim. Men like Salazar were predators, who used up women like Kleenex. Crap like that could change a woman, even a strong one like Kim. Despite his age, Salazar was still handsome, charming and could be extremely persuasive when he wanted. “Look, send me your updated résumé and I’ll see what I can do, okay? But meanwhile, don’t panic and most importantly, do your job. You don’t want to screw this up. It’ll work out, I promise. Also I can put out some feelers for you.”

“Thanks.” Kim forced a wan smile. “I can’t believe this—me, running to you over every little crisis.”

“Hey, that’s what mentors and friends are for.” Hilary genuinely liked Kim. She could’ve cruised through life trading on her good looks, but she didn’t. It was like the idea had never even crossed her mind. Unlike certain women, she hadn’t applied to work for Salazar because she’d aspired to be his new wife. In close to forty years, no one had been able to replace Ceinlys, and Hilary doubted anyone could.

“I would’ve never kept my job this long without your help.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. You’re the one who went to work every day and did the job. I just offered some pointers.”

“I can’t believe how lucky I was to meet you at Salazar’s luncheon. You saved my bacon there.”

Hilary laughed. “Oh my gosh, you still remember that?”

“How could I forget?”

They’d met at a business luncheon that Salazar had decided to host. Gavin had been invited, of course, and Hilary had accompanied him with some critical documents. The event had been planned by the previous assistant—who’d been fired within two months—and a lot of details hadn’t been set right. Kim had been close to tears, and Hilary had told her exactly what to do. She’d expected Kim to get even more hysterical at the idea of having to fix the mess—most of the pretty young things Salazar hired were pretty useless for anything except painting their nails, but Kim had pulled herself together and taken charge. Nobody at the event had noticed anything was amiss, and Hilary had given the younger woman her card, telling her to call if she needed anything.