Chapter 9 Faking It
FAKING IT
RORY
Heels clicked down the stone corridor, and Rhodes froze next to me. Philips the butler looked as calm as ever, but maybe he was part robot. For my part, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. My body knew that danger was approaching.
A tall, gorgeous woman with auburn hair rounded the corner, and I recognized her from the pictures I’d seen on the internet.
It was Miranda Barrington, impeccably and somewhat unreasonably dressed in trousers, a silky button-down shirt, and sky-high heels.
She wore minimal makeup, all the better to show off her high cheekbones, unnaturally smooth neck, and fiercely groomed eyebrows.
“Well, well, well,” she said, a bit jaunty, as she reached our little group. “I thought I saw a guest arrive. Who’s this?”
Miranda’s penetrating gaze roved over me, head to toe, until it locked onto my ring finger. That diamond was hard to miss! She turned to Rhodes, a flash of anger on her face. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
For a moment, Rhodes looked as though he might laugh. Instead, he coughed. “Miranda, this is my fiancé”—I prayed he didn’t forget my name—“Rory Harris. Rory, this is my stepmother, Miranda Barrington.”
“Mrs. Barrington,” she corrected him. “And you must be joking. There’s no way that you’re engaged. You haven’t been in a relationship since I’ve known you.”
“I can assure that I am, in fact, engaged,” Rhodes challenged her. “And my personal life hasn’t ever been any of your business. But it’s true—I’m getting married. To Rory. So you might as well say hello.”
Miranda scowled, then held out her hand for mine.
I took it, hoping I was allowed to shake her hand.
“I don’t believe any of this.” Her grip was firm, and she moved closer, all the better to inspect me. “You’re very young. How old are you, Miss Harris?”
“Twenty-two.” My voice wobbled a little, and I cursed myself.
She arched an eyebrow. “Rhodes’s thirty. You’re a child.”
“She’s the same age my mother was when she married my father,” Rhodes asserted. “We’re the same age apart—eight years.”
Miranda’s nostrils flared.
“Where are you from?” she demanded, not taking her gaze from me.
“New York.” I decidedly left out the unfashionably upstate, falling-down-farm part.
I felt exposed as Miranda’s eyes raked over me once again, and I thanked both God and Elena that I was wearing Chanel and had been waxed and primped within an inch of my life.
Rhodes came to the rescue, sliding in beside me and wrapping his big arm around me protectively. “We met in the city a few months ago. For me, it was love at first sight.”
I gaped up at him, then quickly remembered myself: I had a role to play. My experience on the sexy app came rushing back—when I was onscreen, I played a part, giving the audience what they wanted.
I snuggled against Rhodes. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. “It was love at first sight for me, too,” I cooed. “I mean, look at him. Can you blame me?”
Miranda’s nostrils flared again.
“Well, if you’ll excuse us, Miranda. Philips was just bringing Rory to her room. She’s had a long day,” Rhodes said. “So if that’s all for now—”
“Hold on. Did you just say her room?” Miranda looked between us, eyebrow raising. “Why on earth does she have her own room?”
Panic rose inside me, but I blurted out, “Thank you for saying that! Rhodes is so proper. He was insisting that we have separate rooms until the wedding,”—at the mention of the wedding, Miranda visibly blanched—“but I told him that was silly and old-fashioned. I can’t stay away from him for that long! ”
I gazed up at him flirtatiously, laughing a little, while I was dying inside and hoping I wasn’t laying it on too thick.
He gazed down at me. I didn’t know Rhodes well, but I thought he looked relieved. “Is that what you want, babe?”
“Of course it is.” I batted my lashes at him.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Miranda said. She turned on her heel and stalked down the hall. “I am not falling for your act. The board won’t, either.”
“It was nice to meet you,” I called.
Her snort echoed down the hall.
That left the three of us. Rhodes loosened his grip on me. His brow was furrowed, and he appeared lost in thought. After a moment, he said, “Please bring Rory to my suite.”
“Of course, Sir. I’ll have her things sent in.”
Rhodes turned to me. “I have to work for a few more hours. I’ll see you when I come to bed.”
My stomach somersaulted, but I nodded. “Sounds good… babe.”
Rhodes’s eyes flashed—not in a good way—and he stalked off, leaving me with the butler.
“Shall we?” The unflappable Philips asked.
I smiled. “We shall.” But what I was thinking was: what the hell have I done?
I followed him meekly down the hall to Rhodes’s room.
My adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the events of the day were beginning to catch up with me.
I barely registered the luxurious suite as Philips gave me a brief tour.
The space was ginormous, and by the time we’d finished, the staff had brought in my suitcases, unpacked everything, and said goodnight.
I kicked off my ridiculous shoes, wincing as I rubbed my sore feet, and lay back on the giant bed.
This had been the longest, strangest day of my life. And that was saying something, because I’d grown up with a wild, unpredictable mother, and I’d also been interacting with lots of strange men on the internet. Still, coming to Barrington Manor and becoming fake-engaged stole the show.
I didn’t know what to make of the turn of events.
The good news was that my grandmother’s farm would be saved.
Rhodes had contractually agreed to make this happen.
Also, I would become the legal guardian of Josie and Bo.
That would protect them. No longer would I have to be afraid that they could be taken away from me, that my volatile mother could decide to swoop in, then just leave again when her mood changed.
Also, there was the money. Five million dollars was more money than I’d ever dreamed about.
The security and freedom that kind of wealth would bring me seemed impossible, like a life that only other people were allowed to live.
But not anymore. After five years, I’d be independently wealthy.
I could take care of Josie, Bo, and Grammy for the rest of our lives.
I’d be rich.
My life had changed irrevocably for the better. And yet, I felt anything but happy.
I was separated from my family. I didn’t know when I’d get to see them again.
I’d signed my life away—the next five years were spoken for.
They’d be spent here, at Barrington Manor, doing God only knew what.
Perhaps hiding from the terrifying Miranda Barrington would become my full-time job.
Or figuring out how to dress, speak, and keep my hair looking this good so that someday, I might fit in.
But I already knew the truth: I would never belong at Barrington Manor. Who were these people? Neither Rhodes nor Miranda Barrington seemed to be grieving their very recent losses. Instead, they appeared to be on the offensive, positioning themselves to fight for control of the company.
I glanced down at my enormous diamond ring. It sparkled in the soft glow of the bedroom’s lights, mesmerizing me. I’m engaged? To a billionaire? That I just met? That’s sort of a douche?
That might be joining me in bed soon?
I was still staring at the ring as I curled myself into a ball and promptly fell asleep.