The Fiancee

*Sandra*

“Mr. Harrington will see you now.” Ashley, the assistant who had deflected me so skillfully these last few weeks, gave me a tight smile. She wasn’t any happier to see me than I was to see her.

“Thank you,” I replied with a polite smile of my own. I’d often thought of strangling this woman with her hair extensions, but she wasn’t that kind of assistant at all. Her hair was clipped short to her head in a kind of 1920s bob. She was possibly in her forties, and she had on a white blouse and black pencil skirt, much like mine.

This time, I’d only been kept waiting ten minutes.

I smoothed my hands over my own lilac blouse and stepped through the frosted glass doors into Blake’s office.

Blake was on the phone and held up one finger to stop me from saying anything. He gestured for me to sit instead and turned around to face the window.

“Yes. All the shares that are being sold. I mean it. I know it’s tanking, but it won’t be for long,” Blake was saying to whoever was on the other end of the line. “I’m taking full advantage of the situation. That stock’s going to go up just as soon as I get a handle on what’s going on at Kingsley. I know it’s a gamble, but I’m willing to bank on myself. Thanks, Todd. Tell the wife I say, ‘Hi.’”

Blake disconnected the call and put his cell phone on the desk. “So,” he said. “You’re going to be my wife for six months.” He didn’t sound at all happy about it.

“So your mother tells me,” I replied just as icily.

“Regretting it already?” Blake smirked.

I shrugged. “I did have other options. But I like your mother. You’re the one who’s an ass.”

“This engagement is off to a great start already,” Blake chuckled. “So, we’re going to have to do all the fanfare. Press, charity appearances, the party circuit, all of it. And I am going to have to put a big ass ring on your finger.”

“You can have it back when the time comes,” I said.

Blake snorted. “I hope so. Mother insisted I give you the family ring.”

That threw me. “Pardon?”

“Here.” Blake slid a blue velvet ring box across the table.

I regarded it with trepidation.

“It’s not going to bite you,” Blake laughed. “Open it.”

I reached out and opened the box. Nestled in white satin was a beautiful, large asscher-cut sapphire surrounded by diamonds. The stones were set in white gold.

There was something inscribed in the gold. I frowned and pulled the ring out to look closer.

“‘Forever My Love,’” Blake quoted as I looked at the words myself.

I shoved the ring back into the box and snapped the lid shut. I slid the box back to Blake. “No. No, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Not your style? You wanted some rapper-sized big damn diamond?” Blake scoffed.

“No,” I replied evenly. “I don’t want to sully something so precious with a fake marriage.”

Blake’s eyes widened in surprise. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, if you’re not wearing it, everyone will ask why.”

I wanted to argue. I really didn’t want to put the karma of lies on something so precious. But I was tired. Getting ready for the benefit, and going to it, had taken a lot out of me, and I just didn’t have the energy to debate with Blake Harrington, top negotiator, right now.

“Fine,” I conceded. I took the box back and started to put it in my pocket.

Blake laughed again. “Traditionally, it goes on your finger.”

“Oh. Right.” I put the box back on the desk and opened it. I picked up the ring and looked at its inscription for a long moment. Tears pricked my eyes. There was no love, or a forever, for me.

“Are you okay?” Blake asked, suddenly concerned.

“Fine. Eyelash,” I invented quickly. I made a show of rubbing an eyelash out of my eye, then I slid the ring onto my left hand.

It fit perfectly.

I stared in disbelief. “How did you know my size?”

“My mother did,” Blake said. “I guess she and your mother went jewelry shopping together sometimes. Mother thought you would have the same size finger as your mother.”

“Good guess,” I said quietly.

“Yeah.” Blake’s shoes squeaked as he rocked back and forth. “That’s all I had for you. I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight. There should be plenty of press.”

I stood and nodded. “Good.”

“See you at seven,” Blake informed me.

I thought of the run-down hotel where I was staying and said, “How about I meet you there?”

“Sandra. I’m picking you up,” Blake replied firmly.

“But… you don’t know my address,” I tried.

“You’re staying at the Radisson.” Blake’s phone began to ring.

“But, I’m not–” I began to explain.

Blake held up his finger again. “James! How’s it hangin’ buddy? Listen, about that yachting party. I’m bringing a guest. Yeah, a girl. Who? No, not Emily. No, not Margot. Jesus, James, what would even make you think of Bridget? She was two years ago!”

I crossed my arms, waiting with a clenched jaw. Asshole.

“Nah, man. I’m bringing Sandra Kingsley. Yeah, those Kingsleys. What do you mean ‘why’? You don’t think she’s pretty enough?” Blake chuckled. Then his laughter dried up, and he dropped his voice to almost a whisper.

I could still hear him, though.

“No,” Blake said. “I’m not all about blondes and boobs. Kelly was a redhead. How do you even know what Sandra looks like? Oh. Yeah. That stupid cancer benefit. What a yawn-fest that was.”

Shaking now with rage, I took off the ring and slapped it down on his desk.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Just a sec, James.” He put his phone down to his chest and mouthed, ‘What the FUCK are you doing?!’

“Ask your mother,” I snapped. I turned on my heel and left.

*Blake*

“Sorry, man, I’ve gotta go.” I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket, then took off after Sandra.

I caught her just at the elevators. “Hey,” I asked, grabbing her arm. “What gives?”

Sandra looked down at my hand as though it were trash. As though I were trash. “Let me go.”

“Look, we can get you a different ring. It’s not that big a deal,” I said.

Her voice dripping venom, Sandra informed me, “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth, you selfish, arrogant sonofabitch!” She tore her arm away and stepped on the elevator just as the doors opened.

Oh hell no. She wasn’t getting away with this. Not when I’d spent this much time and effort already laying the groundwork. “Sandra Kingsley, you get your ass–”

Sandra flipped me off and stabbed the door close button.

I was still reeling from her rude gesture when the doors closed.

“Fuck,” I muttered. I walked back to my office. “Ashley, call Sandra Kingsley until she answers. Every five seconds if you have to.”

“Sir?” Ashley replied, shocked.

I never put that kind of effort into getting a hold of anyone. But Sandra Kingsley, with her judgmental eyes and haughty attitude had somehow gotten under my skin.

If nothing else, I wanted the opportunity to give her a good telling off. However, I had put a lot of effort into a merger that had seemed guaranteed.

Now, it was all falling apart.

What the fuck had I done wrong? It was Sandra who came up with the crazy idea in the first place!

“Sir?” Ashley asked again.

“Just do it,” I said flatly.

Ashley nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I went back into my office and glared at the ring on the desk as though it were responsible for the whole situation. It wasn’t as though I wanted to get married.

My phone went off in my pocket. “Larry, hello!” I turned the charm back on. Just because one deal was going bad didn’t mean you gave up on all the others. “I was looking at the contract for the new building and there are just a few tweaks I want to make…”

The afternoon was occupied that way. I worked hard, as usual, and anticipated working late. I frowned at Ashley whose silhouette was visible just beyond the office door. I could hear her calling. And calling. And calling. Ashley’s voice was even getting hoarse.

Finally, just as Ashley was about to call out again, her phone rang.

“Transfer it in here, Ashley,” I said over the comm.

“Sir, it’s not her,” Ashley replied.

“Then who the fuck is it?” I demanded.

“Sir, it’s your mother.” Ashley sounded weary.

I paused. I looked at my cell phone and saw I’d missed some calls from her. Six, to be exact.

“Mr. Harrington, she’s insisting–” Ashley began.

“Send her through, Ashley. And you can stop calling Miss Kingsley. For today.”

Ashley sounded infinitely relieved. “Thank you, sir.”

A moment later, my office phone rang. I picked it up. “Mother, I’m sorry, it’s been a busy day–”

“What,” my mother interrupted me with darkness in her tone, “did you do?”

“Is this about Sandra?” I asked.

“No. It’s about the Pope. Of course this is about Sandra!” my mother shouted.

I held the phone away from my ear. “I don’t know, Mother. I honestly don’t. Maybe she got offended when I was talking to James, and he was rattling off names and descriptions of my past girlfriends. I can’t help that I’ve never dated a more flat-chested girl before. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way Sandra looks… and honestly I didn’t think she’d care about any past lovers of mine. We’re not getting married for real.”

“I can imagine your conversation with James was very enlightening,” my mother seethed. “But I doubt she cared that much. She already knew you were a womanizer and an asshole.”

“Gee, thanks, Mother,” I replied sarcastically.

“She was willing to put up with all that for the sake of her workers,” my mother continued. “You did something. You said something.”

I raked my hand through my hair. “Mother. James and I were just talking about that stupid benefit.”

I felt a chill in the silence on the other end of the line. “Which benefit?” my mother asked.

“I don’t know, the cancer one,” I said.

“The other night, when you met Sandra. The benefit for the American Cancer Society?” My mother filled in the blanks for me.

“Yes, that one,” I responded.

More cold silence. “Did you say that?”

“Say what?” I echoed.

“Did you say that it was stupid?” my mother demanded.

I cast about for the right words. Mother did like her causes. “I… um…”

“Did you?!” my mother yelled.

“I just called it a yawn-fest. That’s all,” I finally admitted.

My mother swore. She never swore. But she was swearing at me now.

“Mother!” I said, my jaw slack.

“You insensitive cretin.” My mother finally focused her insults back on me. “How did I raise such a son? God help me.”

“It was a yawn-fest,” I defended myself. “The only interesting thing that happened was Sandra proposing to me.”

“Well, that’s just the icing on the cake, then,” my mother snapped.

I was starting to get a little pissed off about her attitude. “Listen. I made all the calls. I bought all the stock. I was all in on this thing, even though I wanted nothing to do with her. Then she almost throws your ring at me and marches off.”

“Because you called the night you met her a real yawn-fest?” my mother asked with false sweetness. “Heavens, how could she be angry about that.”

Fuck me. I was an idiot. “I’ll fix it, Mother.”

“No, I will fix it. You will do whatever it is you do that keeps getting us the billions that we’re going to use to revive Kingsley Manufacturing. You’ve done quite enough,” My mother growled.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was an asshole and I’ll apologize,” I responded. “Just let me handle it.”

“She won’t talk to you,” my mother scoffed.

“Why not?” I asked, exasperated. “It was one slip of the tongue–”

My mother sighed heavily. “Blake, I love you, but you really are an idiot sometimes.”

“What? What else did I do?” I replied.

“Blake, my lovely, idiot son. Sandra’s mother died of cancer.”

I almost dropped the phone. “What?!”

“I will fix it. You stay out of it, for now. And contemplate every possible meaning of the words, ‘I’m sorry,’” my mother said.

I swallowed. Jesus. “Okay, Mother. I’ll let you fix it.”

“Good.”

“And Mother?” I played with a pen on my desk.

“Yes?” my mother responded.

“I am sorry.”