Page 147 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

“I did. I missed her.”

Gail looks confused.

“Look, before we cement this deal, there’s something I need you to know. A point of full disclosure.”

Gail’s confusion turns to wariness. “We’re long past the disclosure stage.”

“Give us a sec?” I tip my head at the door. The lawyers file out, giving us the room.

“I don’t think I’m going to like this,” she says.

“I need you to know, before we enter into anything, that Tabitha isn’t really my fiancée.”

Gail frowns. “I’m sorry,” she says. “You two seemed so good together. So suited to each other. She…softened you.”

Gail’s right. Tabitha softened my hard edges. She took my hard, brittle heart and made it pliant and generous. She widened my world beyond the cold rat race I was so hell-bent on dominating. She unfroze my heart.

And now it’s breaking.

My voice, when it comes out, sounds strange. “Tabitha never was my fiancée,” I say. “It’s true she was my hairdresser for years, but I forced her into playing the part of my fiancée on your yacht.”

“What?” Gail’s brow furrows. “She was never your fiancée?”

“We weren’t even dating. It was because of the review—Clark and I didn’t understand why you were conducting it; we figured you had reservations based on my playboy behavior and that article in theReporter, so the plan was to bring a fiancée…”

“To make you look like you cleaned up your act?” she bites out. “You faked an engagement?”

I nod. She says it like it’s the worst thing I could’ve done. She’s not even close. I left Tabitha sitting alone on the most painful day of her life.

Gail’s angry. “So that was all fake?”

My pulse races. This is really happening. I’m really throwing away this account. “We were never engaged,” I say. “We’d never even dated.”

She blinks in disbelief. “She seemed to care so deeply about you.”

“I took advantage,” I say. “And what I need you to know is that Tabitha is a good woman, an honest woman. She hated fooling you. But she was desperate—you don’t know this, but she has a repetitive stress injury that makes it so that she can’t cut hair for a while. She has no way to earn money, and she would’ve been homeless if she hadn’t agreed to sign on to play the role. The plan was that we’d break it off later this spring.”

Gail still seems totally shocked. “So she was nothing but your hairdresser.”

I sink into a chair. She’s so much more than that. She always was. But that’s not what Gail is asking. “I made her pretend. I took advantage of her hardship.”

Gail’s silent for a long time. The account is lost, but Gail’s relationship with Tabitha doesn’t have to be.

“You know how I feel about trust,” Gail says. “I need to trust the people I do business with. This changes everything.”

“I know.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “Why the hell are you telling me this right now? I don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did, but I would never have known.”

“Because Tabitha is the one you should be working with,” I say. “Her time with you meant everything to her.”

“Well, she has a funny way of showing it,” Gail says. “I let her know on many occasions how much I want to work with her. Her idea has merit and she’s the person to run with it and I wanted to run with her. I wanted to get my hands into that business. But she keeps refusing me.”

“It’s because she felt guilty about building a partnership and working closely with you while having this engagement lie going. She signed a confidentiality agreement, and her word is good. She would never break it.”

“But you’re breaking it. You’re telling me now.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing for her for once. You were more than a potential investor to her, Gail. She looks up to you in every way. And she’s not the dishonest person here—I am. If anything, she was my victim.”

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