Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance

STELLA

Four years later

“Take your summer Friday off,” I told my assistant. Christy and I stopped in front of my office. “I can survive an afternoon by myself.”

“Are you sure? I can—”

“Yes. Go.” I shooed her away. “Enjoy the weather. It’s gorgeous outside.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Text or call if you need anything. Which reminds me, I forgot one thing.” A sly smile replaced her anxiousness at leaving work early, even if it was part of the company’s vacation policy. “You have a visitor.”

My brow furrowed at both the unexpected addition to my schedule and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Who…”

My question cut off with a sharp inhale when I opened the door and saw who was standing inside.

Dark suit. Whiskey eyes. And a bouquet of the most gorgeous roses I’d ever seen.

A slow, devastating smile spread across his face when he saw me.

Beside me, Christy sighed and visibly swooned.

She wasn’t the only one.

Even after three years of marriage, that smile never failed to make my heart flutter.

“Morning, Butterfly.” The lazy timbre of his voice sent a whoosh of warmth through my stomach.

“What are you doing here?” I breathed. “I thought you were on a business trip.”

He’d left for London two days ago and wasn’t scheduled to return until Sunday.

“Flew back early.” He gave a casual shrug. “I missed you.”

It was a good thing I was still holding onto the doorknob. Otherwise, I might have melted straight to the floor.

“Ahem.” Christy cleared her throat. “I’m taking that summer Friday now. Have a good weekend.”

She winked at me before she left.

I would’ve been mortified by the insinuation in her voice had I not been so distracted by the gorgeous male specimen standing less than five feet away.

“It’s been five minutes, Mrs. Harper,” Christian drawled. “Are you going to make your husband wait even longer for a kiss?”

“You,” I said. “Are unbelievable.”

Then I ran and threw my arms around his neck, my heart swelling as the rumble of his laughter filled the room.

I kissed him, drinking in his taste and smell like we’d been apart for months, not days.

“I can’t pass up the opportunity to visit my talented wife at her office,” he said when we finally broke apart. He wrapped his arms around my waist while I buried my face in his chest and breathed in the rich, familiar scent of him. It was the scent of love and comfort and safety. My favorite smell in the entire world. “Offices in Soho. You’ve officially made it, Stella Alonso Harper.”

The Stella Alonso brand had expanded rapidly over the past few years to include clothes, accessories, and fragrances. Its office had expanded accordingly.

I smiled at Christian’s teasing, but a sudden pang of melancholy hit me.

We’d moved to New York after we got married, and both our businesses were now headquartered in Manhattan.

Jules and Ava remained in D.C., but the three of us plus Bridget saw each other in person at least twice a year: once for our annual girls’ trip and once for the holidays.

My family visited a few times a year and vice versa.

It was a wonderful life, but there was one person I missed greatly.

“I wish Maura were here to see it,” I said softly. “She would’ve loved it.”

Maura had made it to our wedding, where she’d been the most lucid I’d seen her in years.

A month later, right after Christian and I returned from our honeymoon, she’d passed away in her sleep.

I’d been devastated, but I knew she’d been ready to go and that she was in a happier place now. Even though she hadn’t remembered me in the last years of her life, a part of me wondered whether she’d been waiting for me to find my home before she moved on.

“She knows.” Christian sounded so confident I believed him.

“Since when did you become the optimist out of the two of us?”

“Since I married you.” He ran a hand down my back. “I blame it on those wheatgrass smoothies you make me drink every morning. They must be laced with something.”

My burst of laughter shattered my remaining melancholy. “They’ll extend your lifespan, Mr. Harper. I want many, many years with you.”

“Not years, sweetheart. Forever.” Christian tipped my chin up, and my heart tingled all over again. “But just in case, we should make the most of what we have.”

A half gasp, half laugh poured from my throat when he swept the papers off my desk and set me on top of it.

“Christian,” I admonished with no fire. “That was a week’s worth of work!”

“I’ll clean it up later,” he said lazily. “But in the meantime, I can think of some ways to make it up to you.”

Then he knelt before me and spread my legs, and suddenly, work was the last thing on my mind.

CHRISTIAN

One thing no one told me about being married was how often I had to interact with my wife’s friends.

Holidays, birthdays, dinner parties when they were in town…my once business-oriented calendar was now bursting with things like fucking Broadway nights and Christmas at the von Aschebergs.

We alternated hosting the holidays, so this year, we were at Rhys and Bridget’s getaway villa in Costa Rica.

Specifically, we were in their living room for the annual Christmas Eve board game night.

I finished my wine and waited for the inevitable complaints. It happened every damn year.

“There’s no way you’re not cheating.” Josh stared at the Monopoly board with disbelief. Just like clockwork. “How do you win every time?”

“What can I say? I work in real estate,” Alex drawled. “Perhaps if we play a medical board game, you might stand a chance.”

“I refuse to believe it.” Josh sat back on his haunches. “Every Christmas…”

“There, there.” Jules patted his arm. “It’s just a board game.”

Her diamond ring flashed beneath the lights with every movement. She and Josh had finally gotten engaged last summer, though they hadn’t set a wedding date yet.

“It’s not just a board game, Red. It’s my pride. My dignity. My—”

“Fake money?” Ava raised an eyebrow. “You say the same thing every year.”

“Yes, well, it doesn’t make it any less true,” Josh grumbled. He leaned down until he was eye level with his three-and-a-half-year-old niece and nephew. “Your dad is a cheat.”

Neither child seemed impressed by his accusation.

“Daddy won!” Sofia insisted.

“That’s right, Little Sunshine.” Alex cast a smug look in Josh’s direction before he swept her up and kissed her cheek. She giggled with delight. “Your Uncle Josh is a sore loser.”

Her twin brother Niko sat back on his haunches and pounded the board with tiny fists. “Uncle loser! Daddy winner!”

The Monopoly pieces went flying from the force of his pounding.

I silently cursed as one of them landed in my wine. There was no fucking way I’d drink the rest when it’d been tainted by a dirty game piece.

Meanwhile, Josh playfully tackled Niko, who shrieked with laughter when he started tickling him.

“Can’t believe you betrayed me like that, bud,” Josh growled, his voice thick with amusement. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

Next to them, Bridget and Rhys’s daughter watched their roughhousing with a mystified expression that was far too mature for her years.

With her blond hair and gray eyes, little Camilla von Ascheberg was a miniature clone of her parents. She also looked surprisingly regal for a two-year-old in her blue dress and matching hair bow.

Her brow scrunched when Josh and Niko accidentally knocked over a glass of water.

“Daddy.” She tugged on her father’s sleeve and pointed at the spill.

I could’ve sworn I heard a note of disapproval.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Rhys sighed. “Happens every year.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but Rhys’s kid is the only one who isn’t a little terror,” I muttered to Stella. At least Camilla had the decency to sit still.

I watched, appalled, as Sofia played with Alex’s hair.

“Daddy! Braids!” She twisted the strands into something that did not resemble a braid in any way, shape, or form. ”Look!”

“They look great,” he said indulgently while she continued to massacre his perfectly styled hair.

I was convinced an imposter had swapped bodies with the normally ice-cold Alex the day he became a father. It didn’t make sense.

Stella laughed. “The twins are adorable, and you know it.”

“I know no such thing,” I said, even though, as far as children went, Sofia and Niko were pretty cute.

I glanced back at Rhys.

“I thought seeing you whipped for one girl was bad,” I drawled as he and Bridget cooed over a now giggling Camilla. “Two is even worse.”

Now that the game had ended, the rest of the group had broken off to do their own thing until dinner.

Josh was still trying (and failing) to get Niko to say Uncle Josh is a winner.

Ava was taking pictures of Alex and Sofia, who had moved on to climbing over her father like he was a jungle gym.

Stella sat next to me, watching our conversation with amusement. She was used to my strange friendship with Rhys. Once, she tried to call it a bromance, which I shut down immediately.

Ab-so-fuckinglutely not. I was not a bromance kind of guy, and neither was Rhys, who appeared unfazed by my last comment.

“You talk a lot of sh—fudge for someone who’s already eaten words once,” he amended when Bridget gave him a warning look.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go look at the pretty flowers while your father, uh has a chat with Uncle Christian.” She scooped up Camilla and took her out to the gardens, no doubt worried we would slip into profanity at any second.

“I’ll also be back,” Stella said quickly. “I’m going to get some water.”

I waited until she left before I arched an eyebrow at Rhys. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, Mr. I Don’t Believe in Love.”

Aggravation lit in my chest. “Are you still going on about that? It’s been five…” I lowered my voice so Sofia and Niko couldn’t hear. “Five fucking years.”

“Oh, I’m going to give you shit about it for the rest of our lives, so get used to it,” Rhys said. “And when you have children, you’ll eat your words again.” He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head with a smug smile. “Good track record of that happening.”

I couldn’t stand his ass.

Before I could respond, Stella poked her head out from the kitchen. “Christian? Can you come here? I need your help with something.”

“Be right there.” I rose and pinned a laughing Rhys with a cool stare. “While I help my wife, you think about when Camilla grows up and starts dating,” I said, wiping the smile off his face. “Have fun.”

Satisfaction filled me when I heard his low growl.

When I walked into the kitchen, I found Stella downing what must’ve been her fifth glass of water that night.

“Are you sure you don’t want any wine?” She wasn’t a big drinker, but she usually had a glass or two. “It’s a great vintage.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She set her glass down and looked at me with an oddly nervous expression. “I can’t drink alcohol right now.”

She said it with meaning, like I was supposed to know what that meant.

Why would it matter that she wasn’t drinking alcohol? Granted, it was a bit odd that she…

I can’t drink alcohol right now.

I replayed her words.

Can’t. Not don’t want to.

She couldn’t drink alcohol, which likely meant…

My pulse slowed into one long, disbelieving beat.

“I didn’t want to tell you in front of the others, but I also couldn’t wait anymore.” Stella’s voice lowered. “Christian, I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” I repeated.

The words echoed in my head, too gilded with shock to sink in fully.

Stella confirmed with a nod, her face glowing with equal parts excitement and nervousness.

Pregnant. Babies. Our baby.

The breath left my lungs in one fell swoop.

I closed the distance between us with two long strides and kissed her fiercely, my heart thudding hard enough to bruise.

Forget every uncharitable thought I’d had about children.

We were going to be parents. I was going to be a father, and I was going to see Stella swell with our child. A little boy, perhaps, with curls and brown skin. Or a little girl with her mother’s green eyes and sweet smile.

A fierce protectiveness gripped my chest.

The baby hadn’t even been born, and I already wanted to guard them with my life.

A boy or a girl, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were ours.

“Does that mean you’re happy?” Stella asked hopefully when we broke apart.

My laugh was rough with emotion. “Of course I’m happy, sweetheart. How could I not be?”

I needed to find the best obstetrician in the country ASAP, plus redo the penthouse (which was currently as non-childproof as it could get), take Stella shopping for maternity clothes, book a babymoon…

“Well, you just called our friends’ children little terrors, so…” Her voice held a teasing note.

“Yes, but that won’t be our child.”

Our child would never do to my hair what Alex’s did to his.

Stella gave me a wry look. “As much as I’d like to believe our baby will be the first baby in the world that doesn’t scream or cry, there’s a chance that won’t happen. I want you to be prepared.”

“I don’t care. They could scream and cry all they want, and they’d still be like their mother.” I brushed her lips with mine. “Perfect.”

A small shudder of pleasure rippled through her body.

“I was right all those years ago,” she murmured. “You, Christian Harper, are a softie at heart.”

I laughed softly. “Only for you, Butterfly.”

I kissed my wife again, and I let her warmth wrap around me while our friends’ laughter drifted over from the living room.

The scene was so cheesy and cozy that the old, pre-Stella me would’ve despised it on principle. But that was the difference between then and now.

Once upon a time, I hadn’t believed in love.

Now, I realize that love was the last piece that’d been missing in the puzzle of my life.

With it, I was finally whole.