The Billionaire's Counterfeit Girlfriend (6 page)

“I always wonder how I can pay you back, you know. It’s not like I can give you any advice,” Kim said.

Hilary laughed. “Well…probably not. But you can pay it forward. Help out somebody new who needs guidance, stuff like that. What we do is hard, and sometimes people think we’re just, ah, overpriced coffeemakers, but as you know it’s a lot more than that. Otherwise our bosses wouldn’t appreciate us. So mentor.”

“I will. Thanks again, Hilary.

“My pleasure.”

The rest of the week went by in the usual blur. Gavin had cut back, but that didn’t mean Hilary’s workload had gone down. He focused even more intensely while he was in the office, trying to find efficiencies and get more done in a shorter amount of time. That meant everyone was scrambling to catch up, which wasn’t easy. The man was a financial freak. There was a reason why he was considered one of the ten most important figures in a town that worshiped Hollywood. There seemed to be no portfolio he couldn’t double in a couple of years, and money, as everyone knew, talked.

It also meant Hilary sometimes worked on Saturdays to catch up, which was exactly how this particular Saturday turned out. She didn’t mind. She needed some time away from home anyway. Her aunt was driving her insane with the “woman’s need for a man to complete her” talk. Lila went on with that speech every time she wanted to reminisce about her “good ol’ days” with Tim. Hilary had no desire to go to jail for murdering her aunt—so thank god for overtime work.

Around lunch time, Mark strolled into the office carrying a white paper bag. “Hello, beautiful.”

He looked clean-cut and gorgeous in a green polo shirt and khakis. His dark hair was mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed. And she had a crazy split-second urge to smooth his hair. “How did you get in?” she asked instead.

“Billy let me through. He knows me.”

“You mean you bribed him with a box of donuts.”

“It was a
gift
.” He put the bag on the sleek carbon fiber chair and rested his hip against the edge of her desk. “How come you’re working?”

“Because Gavin needs me here.”

“What about me?”

Hilary frowned. “What about you?”

“I need you too.”

His delivery was completely deadpan. Heat crept up her chest, and her lips parted. She crossed her arms and curled her hands to contain the tingling feeling at her fingertips. He probably said the same thing to every woman. It was nothing special. “How did you know I was here?”

“Gavin told me. I texted you, but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh. I turned it off to get some work done.” Hilary closed the scheduling program. “How can I help you?”

“That may well be the least girlfriend-like thing I’ve ever heard.” He leaned over until their faces were only a few inches apart. “Darling, if we want to convince everyone that we’re a real couple, not some fake thing I cooked up to fool my mother, you have to do better.”

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow to mask how hard her heart was thumping. It was so loud she was almost certain he could hear it too. “You aren’t included in all this?”

“Nope. I’m an expert already.” Pulling up a chair, he dumped his two bags on a small table next to her desk and leaned back like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Seriously, why did you decide to come by?”

“We have a date, remember?” He grinned expectantly. It softened his eyes and made him look boyishly charming. His reputation as a player was as bad as his father’s, and he’d probably used that smile many times before on numerous women he’d dated. But it still had the power to make her go all soft.

Then her mind registered what he’d just said, and she frowned. “We do?”

“Yes.” Leaning forward, he gently flicked the tip of her nose with his index finger. “The charity event. Surely helping out poor children didn’t, you know, slip your mind?”

“Was that today?”

“Yeah, later today so you still have time to prep.” Mark glanced at her laptop. “Are you almost done?”

“I need about an hour or so more, but that’s it.”

“Then let’s eat first.”

“I don’t have time to go out again. I want to get it done and go home. To prep.” She was proud of the smooth way she delivered that lie. The last place she wanted to go was home.

“No problem.” He pulled out two beautifully packaged deli meals of thinly sliced fish on a bed of sparkling lettuce. “Here you go. Salmon, sea bream and halibut, with lemon and pepper dressing.”

“Wow. I didn’t know La Mer did takeout.”

“It doesn’t, but I’m the boss.” He grinned. “So I get what I want.” He handed her a roll. “Sorry it’s not still warm.”

“It’s fine. It’s great.” She dug in. Was it a coincidence that he’d brought one of her favorite lunch entrées at the restaurant or had he remembered?

He might be a playboy, but based on how successful he’d been, she’d come to realize he was meticulous when he wanted something. Sloppy and careless people might get lucky once, but they didn’t get lucky for close to a decade. And that deserved some respect.

Did he also know Ceinlys had already tried to warn Hilary away from him? She debated, then decided it was better he heard the news from her. “Your mother came to see me a few days ago.”

His fork stopped in mid-air, a piece of salmon quivering on the end. All the good humor vanished from his face. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She shrugged, unsure of his mood. There was an odd undercurrent of exasperation and annoyance, but mixed in was something that could only be labeled as long-suffering affection. “She was wondering what my expectations were. She’s seen the YouTube video and apparently is worried that I might lead you astray.”

He choked and started coughing. She slapped his back vigorously a few times. “Are you okay?”

“Did she ask you to stay away from me?” he asked when he could draw in some air.

“It wasn’t like that.” She took a small sip of her mineral water to give herself some time. “Your mother probably thought I might have some…unrealistic expectations about you. I told her that wasn’t the case at all.”

Now he looked slightly offended. “It wasn’t? I mean, it isn’t?”

“Well… I know your reputation.”

“Which is what?”

“That you’re your father’s son.”

* * *

Mark met Hilary’s frank gaze straight on and knew she hadn’t meant to be insulting. He
was
his father’s son.

Regret and anger coursed through him. He wanted to snap at Hilary for believing what she’d heard, but why shouldn’t she? He really was like that, so what right did he have to be angry with her?

“Mark?” she said, her voice uncertain.

Startled, he blinked. He swallowed his unjustified anger and defaulted to his standard mode. “I’m sure that must’ve annoyed Mom,” he said with a lopsided grin. “She hates being reminded of that.”

Hilary’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s not something you want to talk about.”

“It’s all right. It’s impossible to be all grown-up and not know about your dad’s reputation. Most of us knew before we hit puberty.” An intentionally vague way of putting it. He’d known exactly what the situation was since he was six. “Our nannies called them ‘your father’s female friends.’”

“That’s terrible.”

“We’re used to it.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Still…I’m sure it hurts.”

He stared at their hands. She’d never initiated contact before, and the fact that she did so to comfort him… He raised his head and looked into her soft eyes in wonder. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody had cared enough to do that. But then most people never got this close to him.

Suddenly she flinched and pulled back like she’d just noticed what she’d done. Before he could stop her, she dumped her hands on her lap. A pang of loss pierced his heart, and he shook himself mentally. It was about time he put their lunch back on track. He hadn’t come by her office to talk about his past. “Anyway, we have to make our first big splash as a couple.”

“Right,” she said, almost too eagerly.

“A car will come to pick you up in an hour. Make sure you’ve got all your stuff done. We don’t want Gavin coming after me for distracting you from work. You’ll have a team of pros to do your hair and makeup or whatever else you need for the evening. Then we’ll fly up to San Francisco and have a great time. You’ll probably get to meet my cousin Eliza.”

Hilary frowned. “Eliza?”

“Elizabeth Pryce-Reed,” he clarified. “I’m the only one who calls her Eliza. This whole charity thing’s her deal, and I’m there to lend my support.” He finished his salad and threw out his cartons and fork. “By the way, Hilary?”

“Yes?”

“I might not be the Long-Term Prince Forever, but I’ll make sure you’re happy while we’re doing this”—he gestured vaguely—“together until the Fourth of July party.”

She looked at him like she wanted to say something, but her lips firmed and she gave him a small nod. “Thanks, Mark. I appreciate the effort.”

Mark hadn’t been kidding about the team of pros to make her pretty for the ball.

The limo driver took her to one of the most exclusive salons in the city. Hilary recognized it from having booked several appointments for Gavin’s wife there, but had never used it herself. It was one of those places that didn’t list prices on its menu of services; if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it.

A sharply dressed receptionist welcomed her with a smile. Her favorite organic herbal tea appeared like magic, and a stylist dressed all in black who looked skinnier than a flagpole introduced himself and started working on her.

For the next few hours, various professionals fussed over her from hair to makeup to nails. She felt like a slab of meat being prepped for dinner.
My
,
my
,
Hilary
,
aren’t you the romantic?

But she knew that even the pros could do only so much. It wasn’t like they could wave their wands and turn her into a size two blonde supermodel. Hilary had tried to diet a few times, but nothing had worked. At this point in her life, she was too stubborn and old to bother. She could never be skinny, but with the right clothes, she could highlight her assets and manage to look fabulous. A small, vain part of her wished she were skinnier…like Gavin’s wife, who looked like a model—but minus the supermodel attitude. That way she’d fit in better with the kind of crowd who’d be at Mark’s cousin’s event.

The fashion coordinator brought out a shimmery off-shoulder white Dior dress in her size. Hilary couldn’t help but smile as she put on the dress. She was certain whoever had bought it had had a hard time. Hilary was too curvy for L.A.

Finally they were done. “Come see how you look!” The stylist led her to a room with full-length mirrors on three sides. “What do you think?”

Hilary stared at her reflection, unable to breathe.

She looked like Cinderella before the royal ball. Wisps of curls escaped her artful updo and framed her face, and long diamond earrings shimmered and danced every time she moved her head. The silken material of the dress hugged her curves and made her skin look luminescent. A young assistant brushed some sparkly silvery powder on her shoulders and arms before wrapping a pretty diamond necklace around her neck.

Dramatic makeup accentuated her high cheekbones and eyes. The most romantic shade of glossy pink coated her lips.

“What do you think?” the stylist asked.

“I…wouldn’t recognize myself,” she whispered in awe. “Thank you. You’ve turned me into something I could never be on my own.”

He chuckled. “Oh please. I wouldn’t have been able to work my magic without good raw material. You are gorgeous, Hilary. I just added a few finishing touches, nothing particularly difficult. Enjoy your evening.”

The limo driver opened the door for her. If he noticed the transformation, he didn’t say. The receptionist handed him a large black bag containing Hilary’s old shoes and clothes as she settled into the car. When he climbed behind the wheel, she asked, “Where’s Mark?”

“Mr. Pryce is at the airport, Miss Rosenberg.”

“Call me Hilary.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She winced at how aloof and stiff the guy was. He raised the partition between them as he pulled the car into the traffic, and she sat back. She shouldn’t let it get to her. It wasn’t like it mattered whether Mark’s driver approved of her. This date was her returning a favor. That was all.

That was all
.

Everything would go back to the way it had been in a month. Oddly, the thought didn’t cheer her up nearly as much as she expected it to.

* * *

At the hangar, Mark rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension gathering there. “Is there something wrong with the tuxedo, sir?” the cabin attendant asked. She gave him a concerned smile and ran her hand along his back.

He shrugged away her touch. “It’s fine.” The tux was from Italy and impeccably tailored. He shooed her away and turned his attention back to the call from his brother. “So you’re going too?”

“Basically,” Iain said.

“I can’t believe Mom’s dragging you to the concert. She doesn’t even like classical music.”

“I know. It’s because of you. She was fine with not going until she heard you were taking Hilary. Then all of a sudden I got stuck with escorting her to San Francisco.”

Their father already had a date for the concert, of course—Salazar Pryce didn’t attend social functions solo. What had happened to all Ceinlys’s comfort men? Or was she being extra discreet to avoid any ugliness? She was careful about not giving her husband any reason to divorce her. The Pryce prenup had effectively leashed her, changing her in the process, and Mark felt the familiar sorrow and resentment tighten his throat. His dad should’ve suffered just as much if not more. “How did she get tickets?”

“Elizabeth hooked her up.”

“Damn. Things might get awkward. Hilary told me Mom tried to warn her away already.”

“Sucks to be you,” Iain said, not entirely unsympathetic. “Now that I’ve warned you, my brotherly duty is done. I have to get my jet ready. See you in a few hours.”