10. Dara
10
Dara
The coffee goes everywhere, and as I cough and splutter, choking on the small dribbles that I inhaled in shock, Alex looks terrified.
“Oh good lord,” he cries, his head jerking back and forth, clearly looking for something.
I’m now bent double, trying to catch my breath, and a second later, I feel him hand me a paper towel.
Placing what I assume he thinks is a comforting hand on the small of my back, he says, “Breathe, Dara. Just relax and breathe.”
Easy for him to say. He didn’t just choose caffeine over oxygen.
My chest is tightening, I’m struggling to catch my breath, and I’m sure from the outside, this all looks hilarious.
The coughing eventually stops, and it takes another minute before I stop seeing flashing stars in my eyes. Eventually, I stand upright again, and Alex, who has not left my side, straightens with me.
I wipe my eyes with the paper towel, rubbing the escaping tears that threaten to drip down my cheeks.
“Take a few deep breaths,” he says soothingly.
Okay, Captain Obvious.
It makes me wonder if this is the tone he uses with his patients. It’s certainly the softest I’ve heard him speak, even if he does sound a little patronizing.
After a few more breaths, and telling him I’m fine, he moves a step or two away.
“Let me look at you.”
“I told you, I’m fine,” I say, swiping a dismissive hand.
Walking around him, I grab a glass from the cupboard, half filling it with water. After a couple of gulps, I feel right as rain.
Not!
When I turn around again, his face is a picture of contrition and worry.
“I’m so sorry, Dara. I’m such an idiot. I should have put it a little more delicately. Are you all right?”
“You mean apart from coughing up a lung and nearly losing an eyeball in the process?”
He gives me a half smile, but the worry is still there.
He nods to a chair. “You should sit down.”
“You should have started with that,” I counter.
He laughs then. “Probably. But you should sit down anyway.”
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
There are a few moments of silence, and I’m pretty sure he feels as awkward as I do. It goes on until I can’t stand it any longer.
“So, a fake fiancée?” I say, my eyebrows high on my forehead.
“I handled that really poorly. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that once or twice already. Let’s just move on, shall we?”
His constant remorse is getting on my nerves, and besides, now I’ve cheated death, I’m curious.
“Why do you need a fake fiancée?” I press.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, now I know I’m going to live a little longer, I’ve got time.”
He snorts a chuckle and then nods. “Fine.”
I listen to a rather interesting, if not completely nuts story, of how Alex bought his new house just to secure a deal with some healthcare company. It has something to do with it being family-oriented, and the obvious truth that Alex doesn’t have one. A family, I mean.
In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined what I hear coming out of his mouth, but then, I suppose billionaires really do live in different worlds. When he’s finally finished, he says. “So, you see, I need a wife. Or at least, someone who might potentially become my wife.”
“Wow,” is all I can manage.
And as I’ve listened to his story, my mind has gone over it and over it, and now, I can hardly believe the lengths he’s going to just to make more money.
“Let me get this straight. My mom and dad are building schools in Africa for kids who, for the most part, are orphaned or misplaced. While you, with all your wealth, buy houses to make yourself even wealthier.”
He sighs and drops his gaze.
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
Alex nods and says, “It is true.”
I shrug and shake my head. “Then I have to say no. If I had your kind of money, I’d be using it for good. That’s the problem with you selfish billionaires. You’re so far removed from the real world.”
He’s looking at me with a slightly amused expression, even though my words ought to be causing massive offense. I don’t understand it, but I don’t care. It needs to be said.
Cocking his head, he says, “So the only reason you won’t do it is because I spend my money selfishly. Is that what you’re saying?”
His tone is making me wary, as though I’ve missed a plot point somewhere. I’m a bit nervous to commit to my answer, but I’ve already thrown my hat in the ring. I can’t reach it to take it back out again, so I have no choice but to agree.
“Pretty much.”
“I see,” he says, calm as a lake on a still morning. “Do you know how I met your brother?”
I shake my head, pretending not to care. But, of course, I do care because I get a strange feeling I’ve messed up. “I know you were both in Ghana when you guys met.”
He nods. “We were. In fact, I was in Ghana because I had heard a wonderful story of sacrifice. A married couple had decided to sell everything they owned just so they could move out there and start up a humanitarian project to help children in desperate need.”
The ominous feeling gets worse.
“More to the point, I was compelled by their self-sacrifice and wanted to do something to help them.”
Oh, lord!
“It wasn’t enough that I could send them funding. This selfish billionaire wanted to go out and see the wonderful work these people were doing for himself. As it happened, I was extremely impressed, and after making a recurring donation that would ensure this wonderful couple could continue doing this amazing work for years to come, I also met Mark Gilbert, the son of said couple.”
My mouth has now fallen open, and I realize that there is nothing that could have prepared me for how deeply in the do-do I am. Trying to back pedal and somehow save myself from drowning in it, I say, “Mom and Dad never mentioned it.”
“No, they wouldn’t. I prefer to remain an anonymous donor. You know how we selfish billionaires are with the limelight,” he says dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching smugly.
“Right,” I say, feeling the fire of humiliation crawling up my neck and devouring my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
“Sure. Course it is.”
One of those awful silences resumes, and I have no words. Mainly because I’ve just made the biggest idiot out of myself ever. My pious self-righteousness has just bitten me in my posterior, and now all I can do is feel mortified. Which seems to be something of a habit around here.
It all makes perfect sense. Mark takes care of the online presence of Mom and Dad’s project. It’s his job to run the website, write posts and reels for social media accounts, rally up sponsorship, and of course, deal with the funding!
They’re not just best friends. They also share a common goal and interest.
Well done, Dara. Yep. Excellent.
“So, about my earlier proposal,” Alex says, “or should I say, proposals.”
I don’t need him to tell me that one of the reasons he wants to land this healthcare deal is so he can continue providing Mom and Dad with funding. I think that much is obvious. But it’s still a big deal. I mean, being an anonymous donor is one thing. Having to pretend that you’re engaged to a man you hardly know is another thing entirely.
“Can I think about it?” I offer weakly.
But Alex doesn’t look at all perturbed at my answer. In fact, he looks delighted. And then I wonder if me thinking about it is more than he could have hoped for.
“Of course,” he says eagerly. “Take your time. I only ask that once we’ve agreed to this you don’t mention it to anyone. You know better than me word spreads like wildfire in a small town like Riverdale.”
“Wildfire would be slow compared to the grapevine here.”
He nods in acknowledgement. “That only clarifies my point. What I’m proposing is harmless both to us and the healthcare company. But if word gets out…”
“I get it. It’ll destroy the deal.”
“But I haven’t told you the best part yet, and hopefully, it will help you in your decision. My proposition comes with benefits. You said last night that you wanted a place of your own. If you agree to help me, I’ll make certain you have the capital to get up and running.”
“What?”
My jaw drops to the floor at his words, and I am completely speechless. At least I wasn’t drinking this time.
Alex turns toward the door. “I’m going to go and give you some time to think about it.”
“Okay,” is all I can manage.
“And, Dara, even if you can’t commit to the fake relationship, I’d still really like you as a personal chef.”
“Okay,” I squeak again.
He flashes me a smile and then turns on his heels. A few seconds later, I hear the front door slam shut.
When I finally came round from my stupor, I rang Astrid. I know Alex said no one could know, but that was after we’d agreed, right? There was no way I could make this decision without my best friend’s advice.
Astrid had been as gobsmacked as me, and then she got very excited, telling me all the things I would be able to do with my own restaurant. While I was right there with her on that page, I couldn’t help the doubts that bounced around my head.
“But what will everyone think?” I said. “It’s going to be pretty weird, right? Me single one day, and suddenly engaged the next. Especially to the guy who just moved to town.”
“Okay,” Astrid reasoned, “but it’s not like you just met the guy. I mean, you’ve known each other for years, haven’t you?”
“Kind of”
“And at the end of the day, my darling, it’s not really anybody else’s business, is it?” Astrid said, with her usual, not-caring-what-anyone-thinks attitude.
“And then there’s Mark,” I countered.
“Who happens to be in Africa right now,” Astrid argued. “Besides, from what you’ve told me, this thing will be over by the time your brother returns. You’ll be free to tell him the truth. I’m sure, given how close they are, that Dr. Bennett will help you with that.”
Astrid had a point, but I was still unsure. In the end, and after a conversation that lasted nearly two hours, my closest friend convinced me that I’d be a fool not to grab this opportunity with both hands and that I would also be helping all those children in a roundabout way.
As I lie in bed now, hardly able to close my eyes, never mind sleep, I suppose she has a point. It still makes me feel uneasy. I am the woman who speaks my mind, the woman who tells the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. What Alex is asking me to do is lie.
But like he said, it’s not like it’s harming anybody, right?
Right.
I think.