Fake Fiancée for Dad’s Best Friend by Gena Snow
Chapter 17
Alex
I’m at the charity fashion show at Mill Neck Manor’s spacious lawn. The historical Tudor Revival mansion on the North Shore of Long Island is a prestigious venue for social events. Besides runway shows, there are auctions and sales. The sales and proceeds will be donated to various health foundations, including Mill Neck, which supports people with hearing problems.
I wish Vivian were here with me. I was surprised when she refused my invitation the other day, and especially she was so passionate about the fashion world. Trisha must’ve intimidated her.
Mark texted me earlier, letting me know he dropped her off at my condo. I’ve been waiting for her call or message eagerly since then, but nothing comes. I want to call her and ask whether she needs anything, but I can’t find any private spot. So I text her instead.
Me: Are you finding everything okay?
Vivian: Yes. I’m at your house. It’s soooo beautiful!”
The simple compliment makes my day. I picture her lovely face when she looks around and I wish I were there to see it. I should be giving her a house tour. Damn it. I’ll do it the first thing I get back home.
Me: Feel free to help yourself with the food in the fridge. But don’t eat too much. I’ll be home at around five, and I’ll take you to dinner.
Vivian texts me back a happy dance emoji, and I smile at it for a moment before putting my phone back into my pocket.
At the Meet and Greet, I spot Amanda Lee and her son right away. Both are wearing sleeveless skorts that show off their genderless style. The striking outfits attract a lot of attention. While Amanda is surrounded by people complimenting the design of her outfit, her son is flanked by a couple of young women, a blonde and a brunette, that are probably models.
“You look like a gladiator, Cody!” the blonde says in a coquettish voice. “I like your legs!”
The brunette shakes her head. “So hot!”
“You guys look great, too,” he put his arms around both of them. “Are you coming to the party tonight?”
“Of course!”
I dislike the guy, although he’s only acting the way a good-looking young man from a well-to-do family is expected to. Was I like him when I was his age? Maybe. I was ignorant. I didn’t know better and took everything for granted. Wait. I started building my empire as soon as I graduated from college, didn’t I? Stop it. Why am I comparing myself with this callow young man who’s still living off his family’s fortune? I must be nuts.
“Hey, old friend!” A familiar voice draws my attention from behind, and I turn to look.
“John! I didn’t know you were coming!” I hug my friend warmly. No wonder Vivian refused to come with me.
“I wasn’t, but Lisa wanted to see the historic house,” he says while looking away. I follow his gaze and see Lisa a few yards away, speaking to a woman who’s smiling at Noah inside the baby stroller.
“Where’s Vivian?” I ask, eager to know what Vivian told him about the weekend.
“Oh, she’s going to see a friend in Hudson,” he says. “Someone she knew from college.”
“I see.” I try to act normal, but my cheeks feel warm. It’s going to be tricky when it comes the time to tell John the truth. I change topic to ease the discomfort. “So, uh. She’s going to Paris. I believe?”
“Yeah,” John rolls his eyes. “Says the school finally provided her a financial aid package. Frankly, I don’t see why it’s necessary to go to France to learn something I can teach her right here at home.”
I chuckle. I agree with John and would like nothing more than Vivian staying in New York. But I know the girl has set her mind on that and there’s nothing we can do to change it. “She just needs to leave home for a while and see the outside world.”
“I guess,” John says with a shrug. “That’s what I don’t get. I was born in New York, grew up, and went to college here. I never wanted to live anywhere else. I guess you understand her better.”
“I surely do,” I laugh wholeheartedly. Knowing Vivian is probably at my penthouse waiting for me, I have the urge to leave the event and go home already.
I’m going to do just that when I see a tall, skinny woman walking toward us, and I cringe inwardly.
Trisha is as glamorous as usual. Over the years, her dresses have become more revealing and shining as if to compensate for the lack of youth. She’s wearing a long silver satin dress of her own brand. It has many slits—one in the front from neck down to the belly button, and one on each side of her legs and runs up to her hip.
“Wow,” John murmurs. “She’s dressed to kill.”
Exactly. And I hope I’m not her target, especially when many pairs of eyes follow her.
She’s aware of the fact but acts as if she isn’t. Years ago, when I didn’t know better, I was proud that I had what every man wanted: a woman who was on fashion magazine covers, TV commercials, and Time Square billboards. I mistook vanity with love, and I nearly married an empty shell of a female body.
I discovered later how conniving she was besides being self-centered. She wanted men’s attention and wasn’t satisfied with just one man. While dating me, she never refused to go out with other men, and she used business as an excuse. Even at public events, her eyes would glance around for potential prey.
The strange thing was I never felt jealous, although I was annoyed. I guess I was never serious about her either. For two years after we broke up, we sometimes meet and go out just to keep in contact. But lately, Trisha seems to be incredibly attentive to me, maybe because of my fake engagement with Vivian.
After Trisha and John exchange pleasantries, her attention turns to me. “This place would be a great wedding venue, don’t you think?”
Damn. I curse silently. Although Trisha doesn’t know Vivian is John’s daughter, speaking about our wedding will surely spill the beans. “I guess so,” I say as indifferently as possible, hoping she won’t dwell on the topic.
“Do you know Alex is engaged to …”
“Trisha!” I give her a threatening look. “Remember what I told you the other day?”
She blinks for a moment and smiles. “Of course. Sorry!”
John glances at us, looking amused. “Are you keeping a secret from me, Alex?”
I know he’s teasing me because he knows about my fake engagement, except for the part Vivian is involved. “Yes and no, and I’ll tell you about it soon.”
I then grab Trisha’s arm and pull her away just in case she starts talking about Vivian again. “Excuse me, John. We’ve got to go, and I’ll call you later.”
Just then, Lisa returns with her baby.
“How adorable!” Trisha squeals and breaks free of my grasp. Shen then bends down to admire the baby, surprising me with her interest.
As the two women chat, John says, “So, Vivian told me you took her to the fabric show the other day?”
I let out a dry cough, hoping Trisha misses the words. But the shrew woman glances up right away and frowns.
Fuck. “Yes,” I say to John. “Just thought I would teach her a bit about sourcing.”
“Well, I’ve done that a lot. I confess I wasn’t a great dad. I took her to work over the weekends instead of taking her to parks.”
Trisha’s eyes glint as she undoubtedly put two and two together.
“Where’re you taking me to?” Trisha asks on our way to my Porsche. I left the Audi to Mark in case Vivian needed to go out.
“The Lake House,” I say as I take out my cell phone to text Vivian, telling her I’ll be late. Damn. It’s our first dinner date, and I hate to make her wait.
“What made you change your mind?” Trisha asks while I’m texting.
I don’t answer her until we’re inside my car. “You’ve figured it out already, so there is no need to keep lying to you. John doesn’t know about my engagement to his daughter.”
“Why are you keeping it from him?”
I sigh. I’ve been thinking whether I should tell her the truth on our way to my car, but decided against it. “Because he might not like it, and I haven’t found the good time to tell him.”
Trisha always has a way to conceal her feelings, and at the moment, it’s even harder to read her mind. Her lips curl up, but it doesn’t look like a smile and more like scorn.
“Are you serious about this young woman?” she asks a minute later when we’re out of Mill Neck’s parking lot.
Am I? Good Question. I pause for a few seconds. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“Ah, so you aren’t,” she smirks, misinterpreting my answer.
I don’t bother to correct her because, hell, my engagement doesn’t mean to last.
My silence seems to encourage her more. “I’ve given us some thoughts,” she says. “It seems to be a pity not to give it another try.”
I take a minute to understand what she means. Horrorstruck, I say quickly. “It’s over between us, Trisha. I’m engaged to Vivian. How many times do I have to remind you of that?”
“So?” she slightly inclines her head and squints at me. “We were once engaged, too.”
“Are you suggesting I should break off my engagement with Vivian to come back to you?” I ask incredulously. Even though my current engagement is fake, I still find her intention hard to believe.
She doesn’t even flinch but merely shrugs. “I’m trying to make it right,” she suddenly shifts to a softer tone and bats her eyelashes. “I don’t want you to get in an unhappy marriage because of me.”
My mouth hands open. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You said it yourself, Alex, that John might not even approve it. Let’s face it, the age gap between the two of you is huge. No man likes his daughter marrying a man old enough to be her dad. Without her dad’s approval, how could your marriage be happy?”
Frankly, I haven’t given happiness much thought because there won’t be a marriage between Vivian and me. But I refuse to let Trisha get the upper hand in the discussion. “He might come around.”
She ignores my response and continues. “You and I are meant to be together, Alex. You once said that” she says in a soft, almost sincere tone. “I didn’t believe it at first, but now I do. We not only share the same passion for the fashion business but are also compatible in other aspects. We have similar, refined tastes in things even though you manifest yours in cars and I have mine in clothing. And we both enjoy going to symphonies.”
I blink, trying to make sense of what she says. Although I fail to be convinced by the “commonalities” she presented, I don’t comment. The truth is I doubt she enjoys the few concerts we’ve been to because I caught her yawning more than once.
She continues after a moment’s pause. “And, of course. We’re also perfect for each other in bed. That’s important, too.” She strokes my bicep and gazes at me coquettishly.
I push her hand away and say, “Trisha. We had our moments together, and I still value your friendship and partnership. But I’ve moved forward.”
It isn’t a lie. I have put her behind me.
She presses her lips into a thin line for just a second, and then she forces a smile. “Very well, Alex. You’ve put my mind at ease. You don’t know how guilty I’ve felt over the past two years, regretting what I did to hurt you. Now I can finally move on, as well!”
I smile, marveled at her quick response. Was anything she said sincere at all? “That’s good to hear,” I say as the cottage-like restaurant comes into sight.
Trisha falls silent for a moment and speaks again when I stop the car at the parking lot. “Guess what,” she says. “I’m not that hungry at all. Can you take me home, please?”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says without looking at me.
I shrug. I almost forgot how moody Trisha could be. She used to do this quite often, changing her mind and cancelling a plan the last minute because I said something that didn’t agree with her. It was one of her flaws that drove me nuts. But now it doesn’t bother me so much because we are no longer together.
It’s late afternoon when I get home. Recalling Vivian moves to my apartment today, I stop at a flower shop to get her something. The girl has never left my mind for long despite my effort not to think about her. Her enthusiasm is a drug I’m already addicted to. When she’s with me, life seems to be so much more exciting. I long to be with her, especially after the excruciating hours spent with Trisha.
Conscience tells me I shouldn’t want her. She’s too good to be mine. But I can’t stop my obsession. If she weren’t John’s daughter, I wouldn’t hesitate to make her mine.
I hear the sound of a sewing machine before stepping into the foyer. Wait a minute. Is this my home or a factory? I’m puzzled at the moment when we enter the living room. There, I see Vivian sitting in front of the dining table which is strewn with fabric, scissors, and pins.
“Hey Vivian, have you turned my condo into a sweatshop?”
She stops paddling and looks up. “You’re home! Good timing. I’m just about finishing.”
I recognize the fabric. She got it at the trade show the other day. Amazing. I know she’s as good a seamstress as she’s a designer, but seeing how she turns raw material into fashion just like that really impresses me.
