Pretend You're Mine Page 2

  “I will not hear it Taylor. I am old.” He said it plainly, no hesitation in his voice. “You were always going to be my successor.” He put a hand on my shoulder, I flinched from the touch, I hadn’t expected it. “You are ready to take over. We will begin the transition now and by New Year’s you will be in charge.”

  “Thank you.” I said looking down at the floor. I didn’t think I would hear this news for years yet. Even though I knew it was coming eventually, it didn’t feel real. Nevertheless, it was great news.

  “I want my company to stay in good hands.”

  “I promise.”

  “But what about when you retire?”

  “That’s so far in the future.” I looked back up at his serious expression, kept the emotion out of my words, but I had an inkling where this conversation was going.

  “I want the company to stay in the family, for the Hirano name to live on.” I knew it . He continued, “I want you to have a son to take over after you.”

  The memory of Ms. Maxwell saying, older, outdated company, flashed through my head. “You can’t be serious.” Even as I was saying it, I saw he was on his face.

  “If you can’t entrust your business to your sons, why should I entrust mine with you?”

  So that was his plan. He wasn’t going to give me the company unless I got married and produced heirs like it was medieval times. I knew he tended to be more traditional, but this? This was too much, even for him. I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him how terrible that was to hold that over me. Especially with everything that happened to me.

  “I’ll think about it.” I said. My jaw stayed stiff as I spoke.

  “Good.” He smiled, which for him was a small uptick of the left corner of his mouth. He patted my shoulder once before letting go. I held back my flinch that time. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

  I escorted him to the door without saying anything else. He bowed slightly before leaving, I almost forgot to bow in return.

  I returned to the kitchen but stayed standing in the middle instead of getting back to work like my brain kept telling me to. I was breathing too heavily. I couldn’t move. What do we do first? My therapist joked that she sounded like a cartoon mouse: she did and at first it made it hard to concentrate but now I was used to her keeping me calm. “We breathe.” I said out loud, and it echoed against the cabinets. What do you feel? The firmness of the tiled floor under my feet, the air conditioning gently blowing against me. What do you hear? My house was an older one in the Glencoe suburb of Chicago, so I could hear it settling around me in the July heat. The refrigerator hummed nearby, and the fans of my laptop whirred for being left on. What do you see? I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes until I opened them to look around at the kitchen, exactly how I left it, although freshly cleaned from last night’s dinner by the housekeeper who I made sure to miss.

  Now that I could breathe and move, I sat back down at my counter. I had to come up with a plan that kept me on my grandfather’s good side. There were plenty of available daughters of other CEOs who would jump on the chance of networking through marriage. If I didn’t come up with a plan my grandfather would certainly start matchmaking me with them, if he hadn’t started already. I considered perhaps just letting him, it obviously wasn’t up to me if I married or not. Why care who it was to on top of that? But, no, it wouldn’t work out. He would still expect heirs and I couldn’t stay married for long.

  My thoughts jumped to hiring someone to be my wife until the company was mine early next year. My grandfather wouldn’t be suspicious of the lack of children until after he could no longer have any say. I would need to hire someone I could trust. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I suddenly felt exhausted. That would be the hardest part. I didn’t have many close friends, especially none that I trusted. Really, Mrs. Tupp, my therapist was the only person I would trust, but I didn’t think Mr. Tupp would have approved. I also really didn’t want to hear what she was going to say to me about this plan. She’d probably say it was unhealthy.

  I started to feel more and more tired. Between the meeting, the visit, and trying to figure out a plan, I needed to rest. I lazily moved the mouse so I could do one last email check before I slept until it was dark out. At the top was a forwarded message from my receptionist. It was from that Ms. Maxwell. She’d left her briefcase behind and would be around tomorrow to pick it up.

  That’s when the idea struck. Ms. Maxwell needed an investor and I needed a wife. Perhaps we could help each other out. I would tell my grandfather that I had fallen in love at first sight during that meeting or something else as sappy. He had often told me stories of how he and my Sobo had met walking home after school and catching sight of one another. Despite being traditional, he would believe in that kind of connection. It wouldn’t be too suspicious either: Ms. Maxwell was an attractive lady. She had deep brown skin and soft, round, brown eyes. Her body certainly wasn’t bad to look at. If I had any interest in a romantic relationship, I could maybe see myself dating someone like her.

  Could I trust her? That stopped my line of thinking. I pushed the thought around in my head for a while. Money could buy most anyone, which would help convince her to be trustworthy. But I had learned that it could only go so far. She would certainly need to be taught how to lie a little better. She couldn’t even come up with a convincing excuse as to why she was late. She had told the truth. I was stuck on that for a while longer. I slowly came to the realization that I could trust her enough to get the job done. She was honest to a fault. Who else could I trust to keep her end of the arrangement than someone like that?

  I quickly typed up a response to my receptionist telling her to tell Ms. Maxwell the case was in my office and I would make sure to return it personally.

  I headed up the grand staircase to the third floor and entered a room full of boxes. They were from when I had lived at home. With my mother. I tried not to think about her as I rummaged through my old belongings. Once I had moved here after joining the company, I used all my initial earnings to buy all new things. Even though I hadn’t opened these boxes since then, I quickly found what I was looking for. In a wrinkled, old plastic baggy was a pair of pearl earrings my mother had worn to her wedding to my father, and the ring he let her keep when they divorced. I found both in the bottom of some drawer in our kitchen. I don’t know why I kept them, but now I’m glad I did. It was a silver band with a pearl surrounded by small diamonds. My mother had always preferred pearls to gems. I slipped it into my pants pocket then headed to my room at the other end of the floor. I didn’t bother changing before lying down in my bed under unmade sheets and fell asleep quickly.

  ***

  The next day I put on the nicest jacket I owned, a slim rusted orange suit jacket that had caught my eye a few months ago. I assumed she would probably appreciate a more fashionable look. Before I left and, in the car, as I drove, I checked my pocket several times to check for the ring.

  As I sat in my office, I could feel my cool settle over me. When I got the buzz from the receptionist that Ms. Maxwell would be up in a moment, I fixed my tie.

  I straightened up at the knock. “Come in.” I said loudly enough for her to hear through the door.

  She stepped in, looking every which way throughout my office. “Hello Mr. Hirano.” She greeted me. She looked like she was considering offering a handshake by the way her right arm began to raise then stopped then moved again.

  I decided to interrupt that. “Take a seat.”

  She sat in front of the desk and I decided to look her over again. Today she was wearing a gray silk button up that had a loose bow tie instead of a collar. With her job, she’d be able to fit in at any event I needed to take her to when keeping up appearances.

  “Thank you for meeting with me again.” She said. Her eyes were light brown, like a watercolor. Yes, she would be perfect.

  “Of course.” I said, making an effort to keep my tone gentler than I was used to. She seemed startled by it, the way her e
yes slightly went wide for a moment before carefully schooling her expression back.

  “About yesterday.” She took a deep breath. “I deeply apologize for the way I behaved. I not only wasted your time by being late, but I also made ill-thought out remarks about your wonderful company. I know that we can’t be business partners, but I hope that you won’t think badly on Sew Fit because of my mistakes.”

  “Don’t apologize.” She was speaking so fast she was tripping over her apology and I didn’t really want to hear it anymore.

  “What?” She looked taken aback.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You have?” She said, leaning forward over the desk.

  Explaining everything was going to be so tedious. “I need you to marry me.”

  Chapter 3: Lydia

  “No?” I blurted out in response. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Out of anything he could have possibly said to me, to marry him wasn’t in the top ten, or even the top one hundred.

  “I’ll give you the funding you need.” He said nonchalantly, like this wasn’t a crazy conversation.

  “Are you bribing me?” I frowned, genuinely appalled. Mr. Hirano wasn’t very nice to me yesterday, I’d admit, but this was on another level.

  “You’re jumping to conclusions,” he replied.

  “Then, please enlighten me,” I said exasperated. I was willing to hear him out, after all, he was still holding my briefcase hostage. I wouldn’t have admitted it, but I was also interested to hear whatever he was going to say next. We needed an investor.

  He sighed and began absently playing with a stress ball on his desk, like he didn’t know he was doing it. It was the only thing in his office that looked like it belonged to him. The rest of the room was stark, walls painted navy with no photos of family or anything hanging up to prove someone worked here. On his desk, other than his computer and some pens and paper, there was nothing else. nothing personal. “You were prepared yesterday with research on my company, if I recall.”

  I nodded. “I read every single article I could find. I like to be prepared.”

  He hmm-ed then continued. “My grandfather is the CEO and he wants me to take over the company starting next year.”

  “That’s good?” I wasn’t sure what that had to do with me.

  “It would be.” He paused when he knocked the stress ball off of his desk on accident. He frowned at the space where it used to be. “But he wants me to get married first.” He grimaced as he admitted it to me.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “He wants me to produce,” another pause, “heirs.”

  I laughed. How could I not? “That’s ridiculous,” I said, then realized I probably insulted his family again within twenty-four hours of doing it the last time.

  “I agree.” His mouth was set in a hard line and his eyes sharp. “I have no interest in marrying.” Now that was surprising. Some of the articles I read were in gossip magazines, to try and judge his personality before the meeting. None of them had any solid proof of his dating life. I had thought he must be really secretive, that someone like him had to be dating someone, but now it made more sense.

  “So, you want to marry me to get the company and I’ll do it because I need investors? that’s your plan?”

  “It wouldn’t be for very long, maybe half a year, a year at the most. Then we’ll have a tidy divorce and then we can be rid of each other.”

  “What about heirs?”

  “If need be, we can fake a pregnancy.” He shrugged. The more I learned the more it made sense, but it didn’t stop being completely crazy. “The most difficult parts of the arrangement would be the public appearances. I have to make them occasionally, but I am known to be a private person, so we wouldn’t have to stay very long.”

  “That makes me feel better,” I said sarcastically. “What about living together?”

  “To keep up appearances, you would have to move in.” The way he winced I thought that sentence physically pained him to say. “But I live in a rather large mansion in Glencoe, and we both work. If we both play our cards right, most days we wouldn’t have to even see each other.”

  It seemed like he had this all figured out. Inside my chest my heart was beating quickly, and my mind raced trying to process everything. It seemed too good to be true and at the same time, a little degrading.

  “I don’t know if I would feel comfortable taking money to marry you,” I admitted. It felt icky, like I was using him, or he was using me, or both.

  “Would it help if you saw it as a kind of business transaction? I don’t want to bribe you; I want to offer a partnership. If you decide you don’t want to do this, I won’t make you. We both want something the other can provide. It will be business. Nothing more. I’m prepared to offer your company, from my own pocket, two million dollars.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. That would do wonders for us, especially as such a small, new brand. I was surprised at how seriously I was considering his offer. If it was a business deal, then I had to speak to Michael before I accepted. Or maybe just so my best friend could talk me out of going through with this. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Can I have an answer by tomorrow?”

  It didn’t seem like a lot of time, but I nodded my head in acceptance. I wished I had years to think this over.

  “Here.” He scribbled something down on a sticky note, pulled something out of his pocket, and slid them over the desk to me. “My personal phone number. When you decide, call me and we can schedule a meeting.” He pointed to what he placed on the sticky note. “That is a token of our deal. Keep it if you agree, return it if not.”

  I picked it up: on the post-it note was a ring.

  I put them both in my skirt pocket. My throat felt dry when I asked, “My briefcase?”

  “Of course.” He pulled it from behind his desk and stood up to hand it to me. I stood and took it. He was careful not to let our hands touch.

  I had turned around, my thoughts boiling over when a question suddenly came to me. I spun back around to see him already sitting and working at his computer. I gathered all of my courage. “Why me?”

  He glanced up from the screen. “What?”

  My throat still felt like it wanted to close in on itself, but I had to know the truth. “Why. Me.”

  He tilted his head to the side, like he was thinking. “You’re attractive.”

  I felt my face grow hot.

  He wasn’t finished. “And I trust you.” He then went back to typing something, not sparing me another glance.

  I walked out of his office like I was in a daze. I was still feeling flushed, the compliment took me off guard, for sure, but the “I trust you” was what repeated over and over again in my head. What did he mean by that? I thought as I took the elevator ride down. How can you trust someone you’ve only met once?

  ***

  I got back to our apartment a few hours later, around four pm. I wanted to try to organize my thoughts, so I had wandered up and down the streets and through a park or two to see if anything would be any clearer to me. No luck. I got our mail before heading up to the small two-bedroom apartment Michael and I shared. We put almost everything we earned back into Sew Fit so this was the best we could afford. Our apartment could be described as cozy, if I was being charitable. I flipped through the junk before my eyes landed on a letter from my aunt. I frowned a little and put it in my room. I couldn’t deal with that and this marriage proposal. I brought a change of clothes to my bathroom and turned the water on. I did all my best thinking in the shower.

  When I was finished, I put on some sweatpants and a loose top. I felt a little better from the shower, but I still hadn’t made up my mind. As I was just about to decide to forget my problems by putting on the T.V. and zoning out for a few hours, I heard the door unlock.

  “I’m home!” Michael shouted. “And I brought a guest.”

  I rolled my eyes and sat up from the couch, untangling myself from the
blanket cocoon I was going to ignore my worries in. “Hey Mike. Hey Virgo.”

  “Hello baby!” Virgo ran up to me and gave me kisses on each cheek. Virgo was Michael’s girlfriend and professional supermodel. They met at fashion week last year and had been nearly inseparable since. She’d moved here from California; her parents the kind who would name her after her star sign. Virgo was thin, tall, with skin tanned always like she’d just been at the beach, and long, dirty blonde hair. When I first met her, I was a little intimidated, she seemed so cool. “How is my Lydia today?” She asked, fixing my hair a little. I quickly learned that Virgo was the biggest mom friend I’d ever had.

  “I’m.” I didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling. “A lot happened.”

  “Did you get your briefcase back?” Michael asked.

  “Yes. And…” my voice trailed off.

  “And?” Both he and Virgo said at the same time.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We’re ordering Sushi, you can explain over some sashimi,” Virgo said, clapping her hands together. “Have you eaten today?”

  “Yes, mom,” I said, teasing.

  Dinner arrived quickly, and while we ate over the coffee table in the living room I explained as much as I could remember about the meeting. I finished the story and added, “Also please don’t tell anyone. This should stay between the three of us.”

  Virgo shook her hands to placate me. “Sweetie, this isn’t the only deep, dark secret I’ve had to keep for a billionaire. No worries.” She smiled cheerfully. Both Michael and I gave each other looks that said we both didn’t want to know.

  “Anyway,” Michael began, “that’s a lot Lyds.”

  “I know.” I sighed.

  “Which way are you leaning?” He asked.

  “I don’t know Michael! This is why I wanted to ask your advice.”

  He frowned and took a moment to think. “You’re the one who’s going to have to spend a year pretending to be married. Of course, I’d want two million dollars for Sew Fit, but I’m not the one who’s going to have to spend all my time acting like I’m in love with him. He’s a dick, remember? I know you won’t actually be married but spending any time with him at all could be too much. Do you think you could do it?”