Pretending I’m Yours (Forbidden Billionaires #3)

Chapter 19

chapter 19

ANTHONY

The jade silk was the perfect choice.

As Maya climbs the back stairs of The Garden beside me, the vintage-inspired gown makes her look like she stepped out of a 1930s film. It hugs her hips and drapes beautifully across her chest, emphasizing her elegant curves beneath the faux fur wrap around her shoulders. In the hollow of her throat, the diamond pendant I had delivered from Cartier this afternoon catches the light as we move toward the gas lamps on either side of the bar entrance, as dazzling as the salesman promised it would be.

But not as dazzling as her…

She’s so beautiful, so poised, even now, when she’s had a day from hell. Hearing about the inspection and the bad news from her lender on the cab ride over made me physically ill. Yes, I can make those problems go away for her, if she’ll let me, but she doesn’t know that. All she knows is that a man she trusted lied to her and her first real estate purchase looks like it’s going to end in complete disaster.

But still, she’s relatively calm and composed.

She’s so much stronger than she gives herself credit for, and I have no doubt that she’s going to do incredible things, with or without me.

But damn, do I want to be there with her, beside her, cheering her on every step of the way.

I hope the surprises I have planned are enough to convince her how sorry I am, and that I have zero plans to lie to her again. If I never see that distant, wounded look in her eyes again, it will be too soon.

“Watch your step,” I murmur, cradling her elbow as we step over the threshold and start down the narrow stairs on the other side. “It’s steeper than it looks.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t pull away, either, which I decide to take as a move in the right direction. When she first came out of the guest room in the dress, I reached for her and she backed away, ripping my heart in two in the process.

I hate that I hurt her, that I made her doubt herself or the connection between us for a single fucking second.

As we move into the bar proper, I vow to do whatever it takes to regain her trust. If tonight isn’t enough, I’ll keep working until I prove myself to her, even if I have to move to Sea Breeze and leave flowers on her doorstep every day. I’m not a big fan of small towns or cold, rocky coastlines—I’m usually a Caribbean man—but for Maya, I’ll learn to love long walks in the freezing Maine air.

It’s been less than a week, and I’d already do just about anything for her. God only knows how quickly things will progress if she agrees to move in with me and give being a couple a try. I’ll probably be proposing by Valentine’s Day.

Inside the bar, the air is alive with flickering, amber light and holiday-infused jazz that floats from hidden speakers. Erté prints line the wall between the mirrors on this side of the room, their art deco figures echoing the Grecian-inspired drape of Maya’s dress. She looks like she belongs here, like she’s a regular at clubs with champagne service that starts at five hundred per bottle. But then, even in her off-the-rack black velvet dress, she held her head high in a room full of multi-millionaires.

Maya knows her own worth, and so do I, which is why I didn’t hesitate to call every close friend I thought I might have a chance in hell of convincing to join me at a secret sex club on a few hours’ notice. Thankfully, my friends are an adventurous lot, and after only a few calls, I had two of my nearest and dearest on Twyla’s special guest list.

I spot Bailey Anne and Harold settled in the corner, beneath an art installation featuring peacock feathers that dangle from the ceiling like willow branches, creating a shelter for the booth beneath. Their heads are bent in conversation, but they look up as we approach.

Bailey Anne’s eyes widen on Maya before flicking to meet mine with a small nod of approval, while Harold beams at us like he’s already imagining our walk down the aisle. But then, Harold’s been trying to set me up for years. He never said anything outright, but I could tell he wasn’t my ex-wife’s biggest fan. As soon as the divorce was final, he shot me an email assuring me that second marriages are always ten times better than the first. He and his second wife have been together for thirty years, a fact he manages to bring up every time we meet for coffee.

But before Maya, I wasn’t ready to date seriously, let alone think about marriage.

Now, however…

I meet Harold’s gaze with a shaky smile, glad my old friend seems to approve. Harold was the CFO at the bank that hired me straight out of college. He taught me everything about office politics that they don’t teach you in school, but he’s always felt as much like a father figure as a mentor.

I was hoping he’d take to Maya nearly as much as I hope she takes to him and to Bailey Anne, my running club friend I’ve known since we were on the same track team in junior high.

“I have a couple of people I’d like you to meet,” I whisper to Maya as we cross the room. “I asked them here especially to speak with you. If that’s okay?”

“All right,” she says, looking surprised, but curious.

Curious, not suspicious. It’s another small win I celebrate as we stop in front of the corner booth. “Maya, meet Bailey Anne Kinsey and Harold Granger, two of my dearest and oldest friends.”

“Which means we know all his secrets,” Bailey Anne says with a mile-wide smile.

She’s wearing her hair in her signature ponytail, but she’s replaced her usual jogging suit with an elegant black pantsuit that makes my already tall friend look even taller. When she rises, she towers over Maya, her pale green eyes crinkling as takes Maya’s hand in hers. “How are you, doll? I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Have you?” Maya arches a doubtful brow. “Really?”

Bailey Anne laughs. “Well, not until about three hours ago, no. But since then, Anthony’s been texting pretty much incessantly.

“Incessantly,” Harold agrees, scooting out of the booth and extending a hand Maya’s way. At seventy, he still carries himself with the dignity of the high-powered executive he once was and looks elegant in a custom three-piece suit. “So pleased to meet you, Miss Swallows.” He gives Maya’s fingers a squeeze. “I’ve been waiting for my young friend to come to his senses and find someone to care for again.” He casts a glance my way as he releases Maya’s hand. “But it looks like he was waiting for you, and I’m glad he did. From what I’ve heard, you sound like a treasure.”

“Well, thank you. That’s a very kind thing to say.” She glances back at me, hope and caution mixing in her gaze. “But may I ask why you’ve been pestering these nice people with a stranger’s life story?”

“I wanted them to know who you were,” I say. “So, they would understand why tonight is so important.”

“We’re here as character witnesses,” Bailey Anne explains, settling into her chair as the waiter appears with the bottle of champagne and four glasses I ordered ahead of time. Maya’s phone buzzes in her small bag, but she ignores it, proving I’ve at least captured her attention.

“Which I, for one, think is delightful,” Bailey Anne continues. “As a society, we should do more things like this. A mandatory ‘bring friends to vouch for your character’ meeting three or four dates in would have saved me so much time when I was online dating.” She shudders. “Have you done any of that, Maya?” she asks as I pull out Maya’s chair and settle down beside Harold on the banquet, letting the women have the chairs. “Online dating?”

Maya shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Good,” Bailey Anne says. “Don’t. It’s awful. Especially here in the city. The men are all sociopaths or neurotic workaholics or both. You’re better off hanging a ‘single and looking for an age-appropriate gentleman’ sign around your neck at the grocery store.”

“Which Bailey Anne actually did,” I offer, thanking the waiter for the champagne and indicating he can leave the rest of the bottle in the ice bucket beside the table.

Maya’s eyes widen as she glances back at Bailey Anne, once again ignoring her phone as it vibrates twice more. “You didn’t.”

Bailey Anne grins. “I did. And Paul and I have been happily married for three years. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Harold makes an approving sound. “That’s the kind of creative thinking you need in these modern times. Don’t let the social media tech billionaires convince you there’s only one way to skin a cat. People can still make connections in real life. My daughter, Deb, met her boyfriend at a pasta making class.”

“And even if she hadn’t, she still would have learned to make pasta,” Maya says. “It’s a win-win.”

“That’s the spirit,” Harold says, lifting his glass. “A toast to open minds and open hearts.”

“To open minds and open hearts,” we all echo. As I clink glasses with Maya, I hold her gaze for a beat, relieved that she seems comfortable with my friends. On the way over, I started to worry that she might feel ambushed.

“So, Anthony says you’re in real estate?” Bailey Anne asks after we’ve sipped our champagne.

“I’ve managed my parents’ portfolio of rental properties for years. I was hoping to start my own business this year, but I’ve hit a few snags along the way,” Maya says, some of the light dimming from her eyes.

But hopefully, by the end of the night, I’ll be able to put her worries about the real estate deal to rest tonight along with all her other worries.

“I get that,” Bailey Anne says with a sigh. “New York real estate can be a beast.”

“Bailey Anne manages preservation for buildings on the historic register,” I offer. “She’s the go-to for anyone who needs an expert in seventeenth-or eighteenth-century real estate.”

Maya leans forward, curiosity animating her features. “Wow. That must be fascinating. And challenging. I had to have part of an eighteenth-century ceiling replaced in a property last year. Finding someone who could replicate the hand-carved plaster mold was almost impossible.”

“That’s always a challenge,” Bailey Anne agrees. “So many of those skills are dying arts in this day and age. I ran into something similar with a staircase railing last fall. But I found a craftsman in the UK who still carves spindles in the same style.”

“And what about you, Harold?” Maya asks, glancing down at her purse as her phone vibrates again. But once again, she leaves it in her bag. “What do you do?”

“I’m retired now, but I used to be this brilliant boy’s boss,” Harold says, sending a fresh rush of nerves straight to my stomach. I take another sip of champagne, watching Maya’s expression as he adds, “Never met a kid so smart about numbers and so clueless about people.”

Maya laughs as she glances between us, clearly trying to decide if he’s serious. “Really?”

“He almost got fired twice in the first month,” Harold confirms. “Had no idea when to keep his mouth shut or play dumb so his superiors didn’t feel stupid for not understanding his math on the projections. But his math was spot-on. So, I told the rest of them he was staying put.”

“And then he taught me how to navigate office politics,” I add.

Maya blinks. “And what office was this?”

“One of the biggest banks in New York,” Bailey Anne supplies, arching a brow my way. “Are you being modest again? Why am I not surprised?” To Maya she adds, “He’s a genius with numbers, graduated high school when he was practically a fetus, and was off making straight As at Columbia while the rest of us were failing Pre-Calc and getting drunk in Stephanie Crier’s attic.” She motions to me with her champagne flute. “But that’s not the kind of character reference I’m here to give. Yes, he’s a genius and very successful, but when it comes to relationships? Disaster.”

“Hey,” I say, my frown deepening as Harold adds, “I’ll second that. I knew his marriage was doomed from the start.”

Maya’s lips part, but if she’s shocked to hear that I was married, she doesn’t show it. “Really? How so?”

“They didn’t laugh together,” Harold says. “Love without laughter never lasts. It’s like expecting a plant to grow without sunlight.”

“And she cheated on Anthony like it was a sport and she was training for the Olympics,” Bailey Anne adds, making Maya wince.

She meets my gaze across the table, her usual compassion shining her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” I say, “but it takes two to make a marriage fail. When I realized we were growing apart, I didn’t try nearly as hard as I should have to bridge the distance. Instead, I found excuses to stay late at the office, until one day I came home early and she um…” I clear my throat with a soft laugh. “She clearly wasn’t expecting me.”

“She was boinking the doorman,” Harold offers, making my brows shoot up my forehead. “Well, she was,” he maintains. “No sense sugarcoating it.”

“And ever since then, our boy has hidden his heart away,” Bailey Anne says, making me squirm a little. This isn’t what I was expecting, but I should have known better than to think Bailey Anne would pull any punches. “Which is a shame,” she continues. “Because he’s got a great heart. Even when we were kids, Anthony was always the guy you could count on to stick up for you on the playground or share his cookie at lunch. He never talked shit or spread rumors and without his free tutoring, I’m pretty sure I would have failed geometry in seventh grade. Does any of that surprise you?”

Maya’s cheeks flush as her fingers trace up and down the stem of her glass. After a beat, she shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t.”

My chest goes tight with hope, but before I can speak or catch her gaze, Harold adds, “And when my wife was hit by a taxi driver crossing Fifth Avenue, Anthony was the first one at the hospital. He held my hand until my daughter got there, and then he held us both together until we got the news that Maggie was going to be fine. That’s not something I expected from an employee, but I sure was grateful. And I’ve never forgotten it.” He turns to me, his blue eyes misty, making the backs of my own eyes start to sting. “I confess, I was hoping you might end up my son-in-law someday, Anthony, but then Deb had to go and take that damned pasta class.”

We all laugh, his joke breaking the tension just in time.

As we reach for our glasses, Maya’s phone buzzes again, three times in rapid succession. She reaches into her bag, glancing at the screen with a small frown before turning it off. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I’m not usually this popular.”

“Is everything all right?” Bailey Anne asks.

Maya nods. “Yes, it’s fine. Just friends from home checking in.”

Bailey Anne sighs. “I wish I had friends from home.” I arch a pointed brow, and she laughs. “I mean, friends from a cute little town in Maine kind of friends from home. City friends are different. We’re all so cynical.”

“Speak for yourself,” Harold says. “I’ve grown rather optimistic in my old age. I’m starting to have faith that it will all work out. Probably not in my lifetime, but I see a bright future ahead. We’re going to learn to do better. As a planet and a people.”

Bailey’s lips curve in a bemused grin. “I hope so, Harold. That sure would be nice.”

“To learning to do better,” I say, lifting my glass Maya’s way.

“To learning to do better,” she echoes, her gaze softening as she adds, “though I think you’re doing pretty good already, Mr. Clark.”

Harold and Bailey Anne exchange a subtle glance, making me glad I thought to warn them ahead of time. I didn’t tell them the whole crazy story—I wasn’t sure Harold was ready to hear that I decided to moonlight as a male escort—but they know I wasn’t completely honest with Maya the night we met.

And they know I’m here tonight to make up for that…

“Ready for your next surprise?” I ask as we set our now empty glasses down and Bailey Anne reaches for the bottle chilling on ice.

Maya’s brows lift. “Another surprise?”

“Anything worth doing is worth doing right,” I say with a little shrug, hoping she likes the next surprise as much as meeting my friends. It’s a little riskier, and could very well blow up in my face, but I still want to make the offer. I want her to know that I’m ready to put my money where my mouth is, and that I believe in her.

I really do. There’s no doubt in my mind that, with the proper support and capital at her fingertips, Maya can transform that building in Red Hook into something truly special.

“Hope to see you again soon, Maya,” Bailey Anne says with a warm smile. “I have to run in ten. Pilates.” She lifts her newly full glass with a laugh. “We’ll see how that goes. I don’t usually have champagne before I strap into the machine, but hell, it’s still the holidays.”

“I don’t usually have champagne at all,” Harold says with a tired shake of his head. “I can’t handle bubbles the way I used to. I’ll be lucky to make it home without falling asleep in the cab.”

“I’ll order you a coffee, my treat,” I say as Maya and I rise, waving off Harold’s protest. “It’s my pleasure. It was so good to see you both. Let’s get together again soon.”

“Yes, let’s,” Bailey Anne says. “And have them send over a dark chocolate raspberry mousse with his coffee, too. I think Harold might need some sugar to help keep him awake. And two spoons, in case he needs help finishing the whole thing.”

Maya laughs. “A woman after my own heart. Always make it easy for people to share their dessert.”

“Damned straight,” Bailey Anne says. She and Harold wave and offer wishes for a happy New Year as we move back toward the front of the bar.

“Thank you for that,” Maya whispers when we’re out of ear shot. “I like them.”

“And they liked you,” I say. “Thanks for keeping an open mind.”

“My mind is wide open,” she murmurs, her voice husky in a way that goes straight to my dick, easing his fears that we might never get to be naked with her again. “I’m sorry. I think I may have misjudged you.”

“You had every right to misjudge me. I’ve been keeping secrets, and I still haven’t explained this morning.”

She tips her head in acknowledgment of the fact. “No, you haven’t.”

“But I will,” I assure her. “That’s part of the next surprise. It’s waiting for us in the private library.”

“Private library, huh?” Her gaze flickers with anticipation. “That’s a pretty exciting surprise all by itself. You know I love a library, but I need to visit the ladies’ room first. Champagne and a small bladder. And I may have had a martini or two this afternoon, so…”

“You had every right to a martini or two after the day you had.” I motion toward the end of the hall closest to the front lobby, where we both entered the club last time. “I think the closest restrooms are in the front. I’ll send a hostess to wait for you and show you to the room after? I want to make sure everything’s ready.”

“All right. See you soon.” She nods as she backs away, clearly still curious, but far less suspicious than when we arrived half an hour ago.

“Soon,” I promise, gaining confidence that I’m going to win her back.

I remain confident as I offer Harold and Bailey Anne a last grateful wave, speak with Raven, one of the hostesses, about Maya, and hurry toward the small library. There, beneath the spines of books in faded green and blue, the loan paperwork I had messengered over earlier is already spread out on the leather-topped desk in the corner. I would prefer to give Maya the money outright, no strings attached, but I know her well enough to realize that wouldn’t fly with her.

She doesn’t want charity. She wants to build a business of her own on her own.

Hopefully she won’t consider a zero interest, forty-year loan charity…

I just want her to have options, to either do the repairs needed on the Red Hook property or look for another investment that will require less work. Half the real estate developers in the city come from old money. They had help getting where they are today and wouldn’t be nearly as far along if they hadn’t had a leg up on everyone else.

I want to give Maya that leg up.

I want to give her…everything.

I pace the small space, mentally rehearsing my speech, turning the words over and over in my head, trying to find the perfect way to tell my fake girlfriend that I want her to be my real girlfriend.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty, but I’m so lost in thought that I’m only just starting to wonder what’s taking so long when Raven bursts in without knocking, startling me.

My throat tightens at the stricken expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she's gone,” Raven says, her brow furrowing. “I started to get worried and went in to check on Ms. Swallows, just to make sure everything was okay. But the window was open in the restroom and she was already down the fire escape. I tried to call for her, but either she didn’t hear me?—”

“Or didn’t want to stop,” I finish, bracing a hand on the desk as my stomach pitches.

What happened? Everything was going so well.

Or so I thought…

But clearly it wasn’t going “so well”, or she wouldn’t be gone.

Gone…

She’s fucking gone, and I have to get out there and fix this before it’s too late.

“Which way was she headed?’ I ask as I cross the room.

Raven shifts to one side, making space for me to move past her. “Away from the back of the building, but not by the rear entrance. She was in the alley one street over. If you’re facing the door, it’s just to the right of the club.”

“Thank you,” I say before turning to jog through the bar, not stopping to see if Harold and Bailey Anne are still at their table or have noticed me making a break for the door. My chest constricts as I circle the bar and start up the narrow stairs, taking them two at a time.

Blood pounds in my ears, nearly drowning out Raven’s call that I’ve left my coat.

Fuck my coat.

Maya’s out there in nothing but a light wrap, so desperate to get away from me that she’s fled on foot. I have to find out why, and I have to make this better.

But even as I hit the bottom of the stairs outside and sprint down the street, hoping to cut her off when she emerges from the alley, I know there’s a chance I’ve lost her for good.