The Billionaire's Counterfeit Girlfriend (16 page)

“Wanna come with?” one of the cousins asked Hilary. “You can watch him embarrass himself.”

Mark gave him a pitying look. “You mean like the last time? When I embarrassed myself so much I relieved you of five hundred bucks on that side bet?” He turned to Hilary and said, “There’s nothing I don’t know about wine.” It was in a low voice…but still loud enough for everyone else to hear.

“I need to go to the restroom first,” she said. “Why don’t I meet you guys at the bar?”

“Perfect!” the cousin said and the group dragged Mark away.

Hilary reflected as she washed up in the restroom. It was illuminating to see the people Mark had grown up with. They were so different from her family. Elegant, well-educated and cultured, they spoke smoothly and laughed often. It wasn’t just the money that made them the way they were either. It was something as innate as their DNA, something Hilary and her family just did not have. She stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. If she’d spent more time with them, would she learn to be like them too? Or at least be good at faking it?

She dried her hands with paper towels and made her way to the bar. The family had set it up near the picnic area.

“Enjoying the party, dear?”

She turned at Ceinlys’s soft voice. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ceinlys’s mouth smiled. “That’s good to hear. I hate it when guests don’t enjoy themselves.”

“Well, this is quite a party.”

“Thank you.” She gestured toward a path running into the orange trees. “Hilary, do you mind if we chat briefly? Something’s been weighing heavily on my mind, and I want to know how to resolve the matter.”

“I don’t know how I can be of help, but sure.”

They walked into the rows of trees, their green leaves glossy with vitality. Bees and butterflies flew about, and Hilary suddenly realized that Ceinlys’s hat had netting for reasons other than fashion.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve seen that YouTube video by now,” Ceinlys began.

“Actually, I haven’t.” Hilary didn’t have the stomach to relive the humiliating moment. “But I can imagine how it looks.”

“That’s remarkable. Most wouldn’t have been able to resist.”

“I was there.”

“True,” Ceinlys admitted. “I find the whole situation rather convenient. Or inconvenient, depending on one’s point of view.” She paused and pursed her mouth. “I had to wonder who would record it and put it up on YouTube. And to what purpose? For the longest time I thought it had to be somebody in our social circle, or perhaps one of those horrid gossip-mongers who like to believe they’re legitimate journalists. A blogger.” She nearly sneered the last word. “They’re always looking for publicity and validation by having their so-called work go viral.”

“I’m sorry I got Mark mixed up in all this,” Hilary said, pretty certain that what Ceinlys wanted was an apology.

“That’s an interesting sentiment…your being sorry.” Ceinlys gazed at a small green orange hanging from a branch on eye level. “I tracked the woman down.”

“Who?”

“Your ex-boyfriend’s fiancée.”

Hilary tilted her head. Ceinlys was still studying the orange. Had she thought the fiancée would give her some dirt about Hilary and Walt?

Ceinlys was a bit of a gossip herself. She took photos and posted them on Facebook, although she was pretty discreet from what Hilary had heard. Hilary wasn’t good enough to be included in Ceinlys’s circle, of course, and she wondered if Ceinlys wanted to share some angry comments from the fiancée with all her friends on Facebook.

“It wasn’t easy to find her,” Ceinlys said. “My men looked for her at law firms in the area. Then they tried hospitals, that being the next logical place. Unfortunately, she didn’t exist.”

The Pryce family undoubtedly had their own investigators who could handle sensitive matters discreetly. Hilary knew that Gavin’s family had a big firm on retainer. But she couldn’t understand why Ceinlys wanted to find the fiancée so badly.

“They finally found her at an acting school,” Ceinlys continued. “She’s an actress, did you know that? Such a cliché, isn’t it?”

“I…guess. But what does that have to do with the video?”

“She was playing the role of your boyfriend’s fiancée.”

“What?” Hilary found the words hard to process, like English had suddenly become a foreign language to her. “Why would anyone do something like that?”

“She said a woman approached her…and paid her to take the role.”

Hilary sucked in a breath. Despite the heat, ice seemed to form in her heart and spread across her chest. “But…why would—?”

“She claimed she didn’t realize the…encounter was being filmed, which I know is a lie. At least she didn’t insult my intelligence further. She admitted she found it ‘great exposure.’” Ceinlys finally yanked on the orange and tossed it on the ground. It rolled toward Hilary. “She seems to believe that it will further her career. At my son’s expense.”

What about her? Hilary was the one who’d thought her boyfriend cheated on her, that she’d been going down the path of her mother and aunt. But according to what Ceinlys had just said, that wasn’t the case. Hilary placed a hand on her suddenly stiff neck and gazed up at the canopy of leaves above her. This…this had to be some kind of joke.

“Then I wondered: who would go to the trouble of creating such a scene, much less film it and post it on YouTube? The IP address of the uploader is located in L.A. It’s a café near your address. The Orangery Café.” Ceinlys watched Hilary the way a hungry owl would a mouse. “Does that ring a bell?”

God. That was the café she often stopped by to surf the net or have some “me” time away from her aunt on weekends and holidays. It had free wifi and comfortable chairs.

“Take the video down, my dear. And never come near my family again.”

“Wait a minute. You think
I
put—?”

Ceinlys reached into her purse and pulled out a small brown envelope. They were deep enough into the grove that the sounds of revelry were far behind them. “Take this.”

Hilary kept her hands at her sides. “What is it?”

“Money, of course. That’s what you want, isn’t it? So take it and go away.”

“Ceinlys, I had nothing to do with that video.” She couldn’t believe what the older woman was accusing her of. Her stomach roiled at the unfairness of it all. “I haven’t even been to that café in the past month, what with all the projects I have.”

“Among which would be the project of dating my son?” Ceinlys shook her head. “I appreciate a woman with ambition, but I also prefer that she be aware of her limits. I know everything about you. I can ruin you and make Gavin fire you.”

“Gavin won’t fire me.” Of that Hilary was sure. She’d made herself absolutely indispensable to her boss.

“Oh, I think he will. I shall make certain of it.” Ceinlys finally cracked a small, genuine smile. “You see, I know you lied on your job application.”

Cold sweat trickled down Hilary’s back, and her hands felt clammy. There was a nasty sour tang in her mouth. “What are you talking about?” she managed through nerveless lips.

“The application asked if you’ve ever done drugs, didn’t it? And your response was ‘no.’”

Hilary’s heart pounded, and she felt like blood was shooting upward, all the way to the top of her skull from the way it roared in her head.

“Unless things have changed recently, I’m sure ecstasy counts. When Gavin finds out, he’ll have to fire you. He’s let more than a few workers go already for lying on their job applications, and it would send the wrong message to be seen playing favorites.” Ceinlys’s eyes swept Hilary up and down. “You aren’t that special. And those workers who lost their jobs would be more than happy to sue for discrimination and wrongful termination if he kept you.”

Ceinlys was right. And Gavin would fire her rather than deal with multi-million dollar lawsuits from angry former employees. Everything Hilary had worked for would be lost, and she doubted anybody would hire her afterward. The story of her lying on the job application would get out, and Ceinlys would make sure she’d never find a decent paying position in the state.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you,” Ceinlys said softly. “I simply want you out of the picture. Whatever your end game may be, Hilary, I won’t see my son used by people like you and your cousin.”

“My cousin?” Hilary clutched her clammy hands together to stop them from shaking. “What did she do?”

“That’s a very good question. She went to his restaurant early Friday afternoon…and stayed there for quite some time.”

Ceinlys was lying. She had to be. “How do you know?”

“I watched her from my car.” Ceinlys pulled out a photo showing a woman dressed in cut-offs walking into La Mer. It was taken from behind the woman, but Hilary instantly knew it was Bebe. “I considered going in, but thought I’d just let things develop. I understand from the maître d’ that she was in Mark’s private office the entire time.”

Hilary’s hands dropped to her sides, and she stared at Ceinlys. The breakfast croissants sat in Hilary’s belly in an indigestible lump of bitterness. Mark had never mentioned he’d seen Bebe one-on-one.

Then she remembered how Mark had shown up at Jo’s place all of a sudden after ignoring her for days…on Friday. Why the change of heart? What had her cousin offered?

“My men were very thorough. I know everything about you and your cousin. As far as I can tell, Mark’s never done a ménage a trois. Perhaps you and your cousin thought you could get him to share a bed with the two of you, just as your mothers shared a man. You should reconsider. Two quarterlies don’t add up to a forever.”

Shaking, Hilary put a hand over her mouth. She was cold, then hot, and she couldn’t stop trembling. The breeze seemed woefully inadequate to cool her, and sweat popped along her hairline. She blinked a few times to clear her vision.

“If you’re going to be sick, the bathroom’s over there.” Ceinlys gestured to Hilary’s left. “You seem like a survivor. I’m sure you’ll make a wise decision.”

Without taking the envelope Ceinlys had offered, Hilary stumbled away, as fast as her clumsy feet could carry her, away from this horrible woman, away from the Pryce family…and away from Mark.

Hilary ran to the parking lot. She had to get out of there before she got sick. A part of her wondered if she should confront Mark, but she couldn’t make a scene and ruin the family party, not when Ceinlys held all the cards.

It was one thing to feel stupid and used. Another to be jobless and unemployable.

She stared at the rows of expensive, overpowered cars in the lot. Mark had driven the two of them to the grove. Could she get a taxi back to the city? How, when she didn’t even know the address of the Pryce family grove? She’d never be able to call for a cab.

Impatient, she looked around again. There had to be somebody out here. Then she saw a guy unlocking a red sports car. She ran toward him. “Wait!”

He got in his car.

“No! Wait!” She ran even faster and thudded into the passenger door. Her still numb fingers shaking, she yanked it open and climbed inside.

“What the hell?” he said.

“Are you going to the city?”

“What if I am?”

“Can you take me with you?” Desperate, she spoke fast. “You can drop me off anywhere in the city, so long as it’s downtown.”

He looked at her, and she took the opportunity to study him. He had the clean profile of the Pryce men. He wore a dark shirt and slacks that looked European, and his blue eyes held nothing but iciness. She got a feeling that he rarely if ever smiled. “You aren’t one of the cousins,” he said.

“I’m not a Pryce if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“You look familiar though.”

“Does that matter?”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Seat belt.”

She buckled in.

He started driving, never going over the speed limit. There was something very methodical about the way he maneuvered his car. Hilary finally noticed they were inside a Lamborghini. Who drove one like that? She stole a quick glance at him. She’d probably run into him at the party, even if she couldn’t place him. There had been so many people.

Over an hour later, they reached L.A. She almost wept with relief at the familiar skyline. She was back where she was more comfortable. This was her city as much as Mark’s, and she could take care of herself here.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “I would’ve been stranded there without your help.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “You’re Mark’s Quarterly Girl. He would’ve given you a ride.”

She choked down her humiliation. “That wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

“Get dumped already?”

Her jaw set at the casual way he asked the question. He didn’t seem to mean it cruelly, but it was inconsiderate nonetheless. “Not exactly,” she said, wishing time would speed up.

He snorted. “At this rate, we’ll need to start calling his girlfriends Monthly Girls.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Why not? Do I need to douse everything with sugar to make it more palatable for you?” He pointed out an old rusty Ford truck. “See that out there? Slapping a Ferrari logo on it won’t make it a Ferrari. Just pathetic and contemptible.”

Hilary started. This man saw everything in black and white. Was there anything in between? “Are you always this blunt?”

Nothing on his face changed. He was like a robot. “Usually. It saves time. Where do you want to be dropped off?”

She saw Galore. “This is fine.” She could walk to anywhere she wanted to go from the sandwich shop.

The car stopped, and she got out. “Thanks.”

“Good luck.” The Lamborghini’s blinker went on, and the car pulled smoothly back into traffic.

She couldn’t stop the flow of tears as a fist closed around her heart. Luck wasn’t something that would ever be hers.

* * *

Where was she?

Mark walked down the main path, looking around for Hilary. He’d tried her phone, but she hadn’t answered. Maybe she couldn’t get decent reception out here.

He saw Eliza walking toward him. She wore a strapless white top that had to have been chosen to avoid tan-lines. She hated them. Her pale blue skirt came down to mid-thigh, and for once she had put on a pair of sensible Converse sneakers. She waved. “There you are.”