Pretending I’m Yours (Forbidden Billionaires #3)

Chapter 20

chapter 20

MAYA

I’m an idiot.

A na?ve, starry-eyed, backwoods idiot who was probably well on my way to getting scammed by a sociopath.

A voice deep in my chest insists— Anthony is not a sociopath! He’s the best man you’ve ever met! —but I ignore it. That voice belongs to the Inner Idiot and the idiot is no longer calling the shots around here.

I have no idea why Anthony lied to me about everything, but I don’t doubt Sydney’s intel for a second. Sydney is very smart and savvy and obviously thinking a hell of a lot more clearly than I am.

I should have googled him on day one! I should have reverse image-searched his face as soon as I had a photo. What on earth was I thinking? Just blindly following and fornicating with this man with zero reservations or suspicions?

Sydney’s voicemail replays over and over again in my head as I hurry through the dark streets, my heels clicking against the pavement. My fake fur wrap does little to ward off the winter chill, but I barely feel the cold.

My shame is keeping me warm.

“The man you’re seeing isn’t who you think he is, Maya,” Sydney had said, her voice vibrating with concern. “Clark isn’t even his last name! He’s lying about who he is and what he does for a living and God only knows what else. Get somewhere safe, where he isn’t listening, and call me, okay? Or, better yet, come to my place. You and Pudge can stay here tonight, and I’ll tell you everything I found out during my Internet deep dive. But don’t worry too much, okay? I don’t think you need to be scared for your safety. He doesn’t seem like a dangerous person, per se, but until we know why he lied about his whole ass life, I want you to be very careful. Very! Okay? Liars aren’t to be trusted. Call me!”

Liar. Anthony is a liar. About everything!

Were Bailey Anne and Harold even his friends? Were any of the stories they told true? They seemed sincere, but so did Anthony when he was watching me across the table, like all he wanted in the whole world was for me to know that he was someone I could trust, and he was lying the entire time!

An outraged sound bursts from my chest, followed by a soft sob. Because I love him. I still love him, even if the man I thought I loved is a lie.

I swipe at the tears on my cheeks, trying to focus on my next steps. I know how to handle myself in a crisis. You just put one foot in front of the other, focusing on the next best step until you’re through the hard parts and have a chance to recoup and take a deep breath.

First, I have to get Pudge and get out of the apartment before Anthony realizes I’ve left the club and comes looking for me. I’ll just grab the cat carrier, enough food to get Pudge through the night, and head right back down to the street. Sydney is several inches taller than I am and at least twenty pounds lighter, but she’ll have some pajamas I can wear.

Even if she doesn’t, I’d rather sleep naked than take the time to pack and risk running into Anthony. I can’t look at him right now. If I do, I have no idea what I’ll say, what I’ll?—

“Hey lady, stop right there. Hands up.” The voice is young, wobbly, and cracks on the word “there,” but the sight of a skinny figure in a black ski mask stepping out of the shadows in front of me is enough to stop me in my tracks.

The kid can't be more than fourteen or fifteen, but he’s holding a gun. Or something that looks like a gun. I’m not an expert in firearms, but my uncles all hunt and?—

“Is that a Super Soaker?” I ask, the words out before I can think better of interrogating the person trying to mug me.

“What? No! It’s a— It’s…” The boy’s voice cracks again as he jabs the orange-tipped “weapon” forward. “Just give me your purse, okay?”

“I don’t have any money or credit cards in my purse. Just my cell phone and it’s almost as old as you are. You won’t get more than twenty bucks for it. Tops,” I say, part of me insisting I’m crazy for haggling with a criminal, but my gut says this kid is more scared than I am. “But if you want to walk me back to my place, I can get you a sandwich or something else to eat. Are you hungry?”

“No. Well, yeah, but it’s not… I mean, that’s cool, but…” He sucks in a breath, hitching his chin up as he puffs up his chest. “Look, just give me your money, okay? I know you have money. You have to. You’re obviously rich as hell, lady. Okay? Just give me whatever you’ve got, and nobody has to get hurt.”

“I’m not worried about getting hurt. At least not by that water gun.”

“It could be full of acid,” he says, his eyes glassy behind the holes in his mask.

I arch a brow. “Is it full of acid?”

He exhales, hesitating for a beat before mumbling, “No.”

“I didn’t think so. Acid would melt through that plastic reservoir pretty quick.” I take a careful step forward. “Listen, you seem like a decent person, okay? It’s not too late to make some different choices here. I?—”

“That necklace,” he cuts in, his eyes widening as his gaze fixes on my neck. “That’s worth something. It has to be. Just give me that, and I’ll go.”

My fingers fly to the hollow of my throat, feeling the cool, comforting heaviness of the charm Anthony gave me earlier. I have no idea how much it’s worth, but it obviously wasn’t cheap. I mean, it could be a fake—Anthony’s lied about everything else—but it doesn’t feel fake.

And even if it is, it still means something to me. It was given to me by a man I’m crazy in love with.

Even if that love turns out to be foolish, it was still real. For me.

“This was a gift,” I whisper, my chest tight. “From a man I love, who I just found out has been lying to me from the moment we met. Maybe that should make it less valuable to me, but it doesn’t. It’s also the first gift I’ve ever received from a man who wasn’t my father. And I’m twenty-four, almost twenty-five. How sad is that?”

He grunts. “My dad left when I was seven, and he never gave me shit.” He lifts the orange tip of his gun again. “I’ll take the necklace, lady. Now. I need it more than you, I promise. Please.” He sucks in a breath, and when he speaks again, he sounds like he’s about to cry. “Please, I can’t go home without something.”

“Things are hard at home?” I ask softly. “Want to talk about it? Maybe I can help? There are places kids can go when they’re?—”

“Yeah, I know those places, and they suck. I don’t need to go into foster care, I just…” He swallows hard, sniffing before he adds, “It’s my mom. She’s a good mom. Really good. She loves us so much.” A ragged laugh bursts from his chest. “She just…sucks with money. Like, really sucks. She keeps thinking more is just going to appear by magic, you know? But it isn’t. And now she blew her entire paycheck on a big Christmas for me and my little sisters. I already took my shit back to the store to get the cash, but it isn’t enough, and I can’t take the kids’ toys back. They already opened them and they just…they’d be so sad. They’re still little. They don’t understand how much trouble we’re in. But this is the third time we’re going to be late on rent and the landlord said he was going to change the locks the next time we?—”

“Maya, are you okay?” Anthony’s voice comes from behind me, steady and even, but so deep the words vibrate across my skin. He clearly isn’t pleased to see me being threatened, even if it is under rather…odd circumstances. “If you hurt her, we’re going to have a problem, okay? Step away and put the toy down.”

The boy glances between us, visibly shrinking as he takes a few steps back, letting the Super Soaker clatter to the pavement.

But then, Anthony has six inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle on yours truly. As confused and hurt as I am by everything that’s happened tonight, when he shifts in front of me, putting himself between me and the boy, I instantly feel safer.

Safe from being robbed, anyway…

My heart is still very much in danger, a fact Anthony proves as he says in a kinder tone, “I heard what you’re going through. I’m sorry. I never had much growing up, but my aunt and uncle were both good with money. They never had a lot of it, but my cousins and I never had to worry that there wouldn’t be a roof over our heads. That sounds really hard.”

The kid nods, looking utterly miserable.

“But robbing people isn’t the way to fix this,” Anthony continues. “That’s only going to make things harder for you and your mom. Can you imagine how upset she’d be if she had to come bail you out of jail tonight?”

The boy looks up sharply. “You aren’t going to?—”

“No, I’m not,” Anthony says. “But most people would. You got lucky tonight. I doubt that will happen the next time.” He casts a pointed look down at the toy. “Even if you aren’t using a real gun.”

“And kids have been shot by police for threatening people with toy guns,” I pipe up. “If they can’t tell if the gun is real right away, they sometimes shoot first and worry about killing a kid playing with a Super Soaker later. Then, your mom would be identifying your body at the morgue. Her heart would be broken, and she and your sisters would still be evicted.”

To my surprise, the boy’s thin shoulders begin to shake.

“Oh, no,” I say, feeling terrible. “Don’t cry. We’ll help you. It’s going to be okay.” I start to go to him, but Anthony puts a hand out, giving a slight shake of his head.

“We will help,” he says, his tone much firmer than mine. “But only if you promise never to do anything like this again.”

The kid nods, sniffing hard before he says, “I promise. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t see any other way. We need the money by the first, and I’m only fifteen. I deliver food after school, but that’s barely enough to cover groceries. There’s no way I can make enough for the rent, too, especially not in a few days. Even if I drop out of school, I?—”

“You’re not dropping out of school,” I say. “That’s your way out. You’re obviously a smart, hard-working kid. Keep that up at school and one day you’ll have so many more options than you have right now. But not if you drop out.”

“No,” Anthony agrees. “That’s a non-starter, but I might be able to help you with something that pays more than food delivery. Mind taking off the mask?”

The boy hesitates, but after a beat, reaches up and pulls the ski mask off, revealing curly brown hair cropped close to his head, a narrow face, and sad, but intelligent brown eyes that have clearly seen more than anyone should at his age.

He looks so scared, so young, and I instantly feel even worse for him.

Anthony makes a considering sound. “All right. We can work with this. You look young, but not young enough to make people ask questions. What’s your name?”

The boy swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thin neck. “Bennie.”

“Alright, Bennie, I’m Anthony, and I worked at this company for over a decade.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and a cream card from the inner pocket. He holds it out toward Bennie. “Show up here tomorrow at ten a.m. I’ll put in a call to be sure they’re expecting you. Report to Carrie in Human Resources. She’ll get you set up with a uniform and show you the ropes. Executive runners start at twenty dollars an hour, but if you work hard, you can earn a raise in as little as three months.”

Bennie’s eyes go wide. “R-really?”

“Really. One of my cousins worked there last summer and really enjoyed it.” Anthony extends the card a little farther. “Go ahead. Take it. This isn’t a trick. It’s a life preserver. Show up at the office tomorrow and take advantage. If you do, there will also be an envelope waiting for you. I’ll make sure there’s enough money inside to cover the rent and a little extra for you to put aside in case of another emergency.”

“You’re lying,” he says, his words sending a flash of pain through my chest. “The rent is eight hundred. There’s no way you’re giving a kid who tried to rob your girlfriend eight hundred dollars and a job. Shit like that doesn’t happen in real life.”

“He is a liar sometimes,” I say, making Anthony stiffen beside me as I move out from behind his arm. “But not about this. This is real, and you should jump on the opportunity and do everything you can to make the most of it. Because you’re right. Stuff like this doesn’t usually happen in real life. But every once and a while…it does.” I search his still uncertain gaze, hoping I can get through to him. He’s too young to give up on a shot at something better than what he’s known so far. “That’s why we have to hold onto hope. If we stop hoping, then we stop believing our lives can get better. And then, when luck finally swings our way, we’re so jaded and beaten down that we let our chance slip through our fingers. It’s understandable when that happens, obviously—it’s hard to keep hoping when life gives you so many reasons to give up—but it’s also so sad. We lose so much when we stop hoping, and other people do, too. No doubt in my mind, our society would be a better, happier, healthier place for everyone if we all had more hope.”

Anthony grunts softly. I look up to see him watching me with a tender appreciation that looks so real it sends another ache of bittersweet longing through my chest. “You should listen to her,” he murmurs to Bennie, his eyes never leaving mine. “She’s a wise woman.”

I frown. “I don’t know about that, but I do know you can take Anthony at his word.” Fixing my focus on Bennie once more, I add, “And you can trust the money will be there tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it. I have enough to cover it if he doesn’t, and I’d like to do that for you. My way of helping keep hope alive.”

Bennie swipes tears from his cheeks, but his voice is steady as he whispers, “Thank you. Both of you. I know I don’t deserve this after I tried to rob you, but I’m not going to mess this up.” He stands up straighter, rolling his shoulders back as he lifts the card into the air. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and I’ll work harder than anyone else. I know how to work hard. I’ll show you. You won’t be sorry you gave me a chance.”

Anthony nods. “I don’t think I will. Good luck, Bennie. Hope the new year is good to you and your family.”

“You, too.” Bennie glances between us, his mouth softening in a crooked smile that makes me think his hope isn’t dead, after all. “I’ll see you around maybe. Get home safe.” Glancing my way as he backs toward the end of the street, he adds, “And stick to the main streets when you’re alone after dark. There are way worse guys than me around here.”

I nod. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Anthony and I watch him run off, clutching the card like a lifeline, and suddenly I’m very conscious of the fact that I climbed out a restroom window to get away from the man standing beside me, patiently waiting for me to make the first move.

Maybe he can sense that I need to feel in control right now.

Or maybe he also has no idea what to say.

I’ve never climbed out a window and ghosted a date before. But then I’ve never gotten a voicemail like the one Sydney left me tonight.

Pulling in a bracing breath, I turn to him, ignoring the way my heart lurches at the sight of the worry in his eyes. Until I know what’s going on, I can’t even think about forgiving him.

Hell, I still have no idea exactly what I’d be forgiving him for.

“My friend Sydney left a voice message while we were chatting with your friends,” I finally whisper. “She said you’re not who you’ve been pretending to be. She said Clark isn’t even your real last name.”

A pained expression flashes across his face, but he doesn’t look surprised.

And he doesn’t refute the information.

“Well, shit,” I choke out, my throat tight. “Then it’s true?” I shake my head. “I mean, of course, it’s true. Sydney’s not the kind who gets things wrong. I guess I just…” I finish in a soft, shamed voice, “I hoped there was some mistake.”

“Maya, please,” he says, sounding as miserable as I feel. “I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you tonight. I swear it. That’s why I had my friends come to meet us at the club. I wanted you to hear from people who know me that I’m not some kind of?—”

“Some kind of lying creep?” I finish for him, my stomach churning.

He winces. “Something like that, I guess. But I promise, I never meant to hurt you.” He searches my face, his gaze burning into mine as he adds in a whisper, “I never meant to fall in love with you, either. But I did. And the thought of losing you because I waited too long to come clean makes me physically ill. Please, just give me the chance to explain.”

I chew my bottom lip, torn between the part of me that just watched him go out of his way to help a kid in trouble and the part screaming that liars never change. Once a liar, always a liar, and I can’t build a future with someone like that.

I learned that from watching my sister nearly ruin her life before she wised up and kicked her liar to the curb. That’s not a lesson I want or need to learn firsthand.

But still…

There’s so much good between us, too much to run without giving him the chance to explain. That was never my plan.

I didn’t have a plan, honestly, I just wanted to get to Sydney and get some answers.

“You’d better start with your real name,” I finally say, pushing on before he can reply. “And don’t try to hide anything. Like I said, my friend is on to you. I was on my way to her place to get the entire story when Bennie…”

“Tried to mug you with a water gun?” he supplies when I trail off. “You were good to him, by the way.”

“You were better,” I say, grudgingly.

He shakes his head. “No, you were the one who got through to him. I meant what I said. You’re a wise woman. Wise and kind and beautiful and I don’t want to let you go. But…if after you hear me out, you want to leave, I’ll call you a cab myself, okay?”

I pull in a breath and let it out slowly, my teeth chattering a little as I nod. “Okay.”

He strips out of his suit coat. “Here, take my jacket. You’re shivering.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. We’re almost there.”

“I insist.” He wraps the coat around my shoulders, surrounding me with his warmth and the clean, evergreen-and-fancy-hotel-lobby scent of him. The smell is already so familiar, so sweet. I’ll never be able to walk through a forest or the Ritz-Carlton in Portland without thinking of him.

Anthony Whatever His Name Is will haunt me until the day I die.

“Last name?” I demand, unable to wait a second longer.

“Pissarro,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders as we move out of the alley onto the main street.

I frown, the name resonating for some reason, but I can’t put my finger on why. Still, “That makes sense,” I say, glancing up at his classic profile, one any ancient Roman statue would be proud of. “You’re way too Italian to be a Clark.”

His lips quirk. “Thanks. Though that was my gram’s last name when she died, and she was as Italian as they come. After my grandfather passed away, she married a Clark, though he was long gone by the time I moved in with her. She had a thing for men with heart disease, apparently.”

“So that was true? About living with your grandmother when you were little?”

He nods. “I stuck to the truth as much as I could. I hated lying to you, but once I started, I…didn’t know how to stop. Not without ruining your experience. I mean, you came to the city to procure a certain kind of service, not a boyfriend.”

Boyfriend…

The word is still enough to make my heart run screaming in giddy circles.

But as we start up the stairs to the apartment, I tell my heart to take half a dozen seats and chill. Anthony’s a smooth talker, yes, but he’s going to have to perform some serious verbal gymnastics to convince me to stay at his place tonight, let alone commit to exploring a relationship.

Which reminds me…

“I need to text my friend,” I say, tugging my phone from my purse as he shuts the front door behind us. “Tell her that I won’t be to her place for another hour or so.”

He nods tightly. “All right. An hour is generous. Thank you. I’ll do my best to make the most of it.” He bends down, scooping a purring Pudge into his arms. “I’ll go get him a treat. Then, we can talk.”

I nod, my pulse speeding faster as I text Sydney, warning her of the change of plans and promising to text or call as soon as I’m on my way.

She texts back almost instantly— Okay. Hopefully he can explain himself. Like I said, he doesn’t seem like a bad guy, but this whole situation is…bizarre. And I want better for you than a bizarre liar, even if the liar in question is some kind of financial genius who’s richer than God.

My brows shoot up. Richer than God?

What on earth?

But anyway, Sydney continues , good luck, honey. Let me know when you’re on your way. I already have the guest room ready for you, and I’m ordering five different types of ice cream now!

I’m about to text Sydney to demand more information—and to ask her to get Butter Pecan, the most comforting ice cream flavor—but stop myself.

I don’t want the truth from Syd. I want it from the man pouring two glasses of water from the pitcher in the fridge while my cat twines through his legs.

Pudge is clearly still a big Anthony fan.

I don’t know if the same can be said for me, but I’m ready to listen.

I just hope this story isn’t as bizarre as Sydney seems to think it is. I don’t want to be with a bizarre liar, either, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t praying for a reason to give Anthony a second chance.

I don’t want to leave this man, not tonight, or any night in the near future.