Billionaire's Fake Wife: A Single Mom BWWM Romance Page 10

  From that day on, Sonya's given me the cold shoulder. I try to send her text messages or call her after office hours, but she wouldn't respond to any of it. She'll only talk to me during working hours, and will only discuss work-related matters. Anything remotely connected to our personal lives is instantly shot down.

  Which leaves me very confused. I know I'm developing feelings for Sonya, and I thought that she's also feeling the same way. Did I just imagine things, or did I misread her actions?

  That's why I'm drowning all my sorrows in this bar tonight.

  It's Friday night, I tried to ask Sonya out on a date – a simple dinner or some coffee. But she flat out refused, telling me that she's got a date with her daughter Lauralee. I almost asked her if I can join them, but I shut my mouth at the last minute. I know she needs to spend quality time with Lauralee.

  So I just decided to go to the bar by myself and have a drink. Or two. Or five.

  I'm already on the fourth glass of my gin and tonic. The bartender is already eyeing me as if he's trying to assess if I'm already drunk. I'm a regular here, so they know that I usually drive myself.

  They're just looking after my welfare.

  I say to myself as I order my fifth glass.

  "That's going to be your last one if you still plan on driving. Otherwise, I'm going to have to confiscate your keys, and you'll have to get a cab to get home," the bartender points out.

  I nod in agreement as I chug down the drink. I can feel the alcohol making a line in my throat. I put the glass down on the counter, left some bills on the counter for payment plus tip.

  I can feel the eyes of the bartender staring at me from behind as he tries to see if I can still walk properly. Thankfully, my alcohol tolerance is high, and I'm still able to go home by myself.

  Sonya's still lingering on my mind as I plop myself onto my bed. Without any strength left to wash up and change clothes, I drift off to sleep in my polo and trousers.

  The alarm on my phone blares its sound in my room.

  Yes, it's Saturday. Yes, I've got an early alarm on Saturdays. You're wondering why?

  Mother has this tradition slash rule that we all must eat breakfast together during Saturdays. Everyone is expected to join, there are no exceptions, no excuses.

  The only time that she'll allow you to skip it is if you're sick and confined at the hospital. Or if there's a company-related event that you need to attend to. But you still need to ask for permission for that one.

  She doesn't care what state you're in, you must show up at the dining table at 8:00 am, sharp.

  I wince at the pain that I feel as I drag myself off my bed.

  Shit! I'm having a bad case of a hangover!

  I go inside the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I look terrible – disheveled hair, red eyes, and dark circles under my eyes.

  I grab some medicine from the cabinet and pop them into my mouth. Then, I take a quick shower so that I'll look somehow presentable when I arrive downstairs. I dress casually and make my way towards the dining room.

  The aroma of the food greets me as I enter the room, and I feel my stomach rumbling. I didn't eat properly last night, hence the hangover today.

  My mom and dad are already seated at the table. I give both of them a quick kiss on the cheek as I greet them good morning. I sit down, hoping that my mother doesn't notice or question my current appearance.

  The helper brings me a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and I thank her. I get some sausage, bacon, eggs, and toast. I also reach for the butter and jam.

  "So, Dad, how's your latest trip? Did you find anything interesting?" I ask him as I spread some jam into my toast.

  "Well, it's alright, I guess," he answers. "Most of the pieces that we saw were just the usual stuff, so we went home empty-handed. But there's another place that we'll go to next week, I hear there's a lot of Victorian-era pieces that I can get my hands on."

  Arnold “Gilbert” Fields, my father, used to be a lawyer. He's a partner in one of the largest legal firms in the city. Most of their clients were big names.

  He helped my mother in putting up the company, but he didn't want to manage it or be dragged into its affairs. He's got no interest in fashion whatsoever.

  He retired from practicing law when he turned fifty. From then on, he started to pursue his real passion, which is antiques. Every now and then, he goes on trips to look for hard to find pieces.

  "Grant," my mother calls out to me. "What are your plans with Sonya?"

  I'm caught a little bit off guard, but I manage to answer after a few seconds.

  "We're just finishing up the details for the latest project. We'll be ready to roll it out in a few days," I say.

  Gloria rolls her eyes at me.

  "Not about work. I'm asking about your wedding plans? Care to share them?" she snaps.

  "Oh, sorry, my bad. Sonya wants us to finish the project first before we dive into any details regarding the wedding so that we'll be more focused on it," I explain.

  Mother nods her head, but I know she's thinking about something.

  "You know Grant, I think Sonya's a good find. I mean, the girl's got a good head on her shoulders, and she can really help you out with the company," she mentions.

  I know there's a "but" right after that statement.

  "But, I'm not comfortable with her having a child. How would you deal with a child who's not even yours?" she asks me.

  "Lauralee is a great kid. I've spent some time with her already. Once Sonya and I get married, I'm adopting her as my own," I say.

  "I don't think that's a very intelligent choice, Grant. You're just going to get stuck with someone who's using you so that her kid will have a father figure. Not to mention all the money that she'll have access to. Maybe it's time to rethink your plan," she points out.

  "You don't know her," I protest. "I love Sonya, and I love everything that comes along with her."

  Then it hits me, what I just said to my mother is true. I do love Sonya.

  My mother shakes her head.

  "Why would someone with your history and reputation want to do anything with the likes of her? That's crazy. Do you know what I think? I think you're trying to scam me. You're just doing this because you want me to give you the control of the company, then you'll use the money and resources for something that I won't approve of," she argues.

  I'm silent for some moments. It's true that all that we did just a ploy in the beginning so that I'll be able to take the company. But right now, everything's changed.

  "Well, I guess you don't know me, Mother," I start. "I'm not interested in money or even the company anymore. You can do whatever you want to do with it. I just want Sonya."

  I excuse myself and stand up from the table, leaving my mother shocked.

  Twenty-One

  Sonya

  I've come to a point where I'm feeling uncertain. It has been a dream of mine to work alongside Gloria Fields, but lately, I keep asking myself if it's still even worth it. It would have been alright if only I could keep things professional between Grant and me.

  But as it turns out, keeping our hands off each other poses as a real challenge. Even then, if it were only about sex, I could probably still handle it, but stupid me just had to fall for Grant.

  As heavenly as it makes me feel when he touches me, it makes me feel just as shitty whenever I'm reminded that this is all just a business arrangement. Just because he's attracted to me, it doesn't mean that he's caught actual feelings for me. Grant just wants the money.

  He never even told me what he wanted to do with the money. It's probably to fund his playboy lifestyle since he's so hesitant to share his plans with me. That is, after all, his reputation.

  'Grant doesn't want me.' Of course, he'll get physical with me. It doesn't mean anything to him. He's like that with whatever girl that strikes him as hot. I can't help the bitter laugh that escapes me.

  I've known of his ways, yet I still fell hook line and sinker for
his charming smiles and thoughtful gestures. I gave too much meaning in his actions, and I stupidly gave in. And now, the pain that I feel is suffocating me.

  This whole arrangement was a bad idea. It has brought me nothing but grief and confusion. I was working my ass off before my deal with Grant came into play, but at least my goals back then were clear. Now, I'm questioning everything, and that includes my longtime dream. I hate it.

  I have let him into my life. I have let him into my daughter's life, forgetting the simple fact that he was never going to be a permanent fixture in our lives. Staying with him will only make me fall harder, and it will only make Lauralee yearn more for a father. 'He doesn't want you.' the thought echoes yet again.

  I try to fight the tears that are threatening to spill. I need to getaway. I need to think. I can't do any of that while I'm so close to my problem. I need to start reevaluating my life.

  In my moment of distress, the one thought that seems to be the answer to my problems is Sasha, my sister. She lives in Hudson Valley. It's only a 90-minute train ride away. It's far enough that I may find some perspective of what I need to do.

  With Sasha in mind, I immediately look for my phone. I call her, hoping that she'll pick up. After a couple of rings, she finally answers.

  Hey, Sonya! It's been a while since you called. What's up?

  The comforting voice of my sister has me teary-eyed in a second. It's good to hear her voice again. I've missed her.

  "Nothing. Lauralee and I need a place to stay for a while. Can we stay at your place starting tomorrow?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

  As if sensing that something is wrong, my sister agrees without hesitation.

  What's wrong? She asks.

  I try not to sob from the warmth and concern that I've sorely missed from her.

  "It's a long story," I say, my voice is slightly shaky.

  I've got time. Sasha says, urging me to talk to her.

  I let out a heavy sigh. Maybe talking about it will help me calm down. I tell her everything. I recount to her all the events that occurred that eventually led me to this moment, broken and confused. She listens attentively, staying silent through the phone.

  After telling her everything, she breaks the silence. It would save you the trouble of having to figure out where you stand with him if only you talked to him. She advises me.

  She's right, I know I'm a coward with this whole situation. It would be just like ripping a band-aid. All I had to do was ask him where we stand, but I'm too scared to hear the answer. Instead, I do what comes naturally to me when I'm scared, which is to run for the hills. But in this case, it's Hudson Valley.

  "I don't think I can do that with my current mental state. I need some time to think," I tell her.

  Hmm. That's understandable. You can take all the time that you need. I can't wait to see you and Lauralee. It's just terrible that it's not because of better circumstances. She says this to me with no hint of reproach in her tone, only understanding.

  "We'll leave tomorrow," I say, thankful to have such an understanding sister living close by.

  Okay. You know my number. I'll pick you guys up at the station. She says to me.

  "Thank you, Sasha. I love you," I say, meaning every word.

  It's no problem. Love you too, sis. She says this before ending the call.

  Just the thought of seeing Sasha sets me at ease. We've always been close. She's one of the few confidants that I have. She never judges me for my mistakes. She just listens and offers some advice. I guess it helps that she's a psychiatrist. She used to work in New York but opted to move to the countryside after a couple of years.

  I notify HR that I will be taking a few days off. She's probably not going to like it, but I can't just up and leave without saying anything. I may be hurting, but I still need to act in a somewhat professional manner.

  The email is sent. And if I know Gloria, she'll be reading her emails before going to bed.

  I visit Lauralee's room so that I can tell her the news.

  I open the door and see her playing with her dolls. She takes notice of my presence and jumps excitedly at me to give me a hug.

  I chuckle at how affectionate Lauralee can be. I return her hug, feeling much better. She's really the light of my life.

  "Mommy, are you going to play with me?" she asks, eyes looking hopeful.

  I chuckle, patting her on the head. I carry her to bed and sit her down.

  "Mommy has something to tell you. We're going to be staying with Aunt Sasha for a while," I say, garnering a delighted squeal from her.

  Her face is alight with excitement. "Really, mommy? I miss Aunt Sasha," she says, bouncing happily on the bed.

  I laugh, pulling her down to sit on my lap.

  "Yes, sweetie. It's time we visited your Aunt," I smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  "Is Uncle Grant coming with us?" she asks excitedly.

  The smile slowly drops from my face. Lauralee's really gotten attached to Grant. I feel so powerless about this.

  Not trusting my voice not to waver at the moment, I pause. I shake my head slowly.

  "No, sweetie. He has work to do here," I say, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

  I don't want Lauralee to hate Grant. He's been so good with her. I'm the one who managed to catch feelings that I shouldn't have. It's my fault for falling in love with a playboy.

  "That's too bad. I miss him," she says with a pout.

  I try to smile, rubbing my thumb against her cheek affectionately.

  "I know, sweetie. But at least you get to spend time with your Aunt Sasha," I say, wanting to get her mind off Grant.

  Her eyes light up at the mention of her favorite Aunt.

  "Yeah, I can't wait!" she says excitedly.

  I let out a sigh, glad that what I said seems to have worked.

  "We need to start packing our things. Why don't you grab some of the toys that you want to bring, and I'll start packing your clothes?" I offer.

  She nods before happily looking through the toys in her toy chest.

  I start folding Lauralee's clothes and places them in a small suitcase.

  "What are you going to bring?" I ask.

  She holds with her, Cuppie, her favorite stuffed rabbit. But what she's holding in her other hand gives me pause. It's the stuffed animal Grant got her at the circus.

  Deciding not to say anything, I pack away the stuffed animals and put her to bed.

  "Goodnight, sweetie. I love you," I say, kissing her forehead.

  "Love you too, mommy," she lets out groggily before falling asleep.

  I leave for my room so that I can start packing my things. After finishing everything, I lay on the bed in a loud thud. I feel exhausted.

  I hope that the week that I'll spend with Sasha is enough to get my head straight.

  Twenty-Two

  Grant

  I can't believe my mother would even care if Sonya has a child or not. I never expected that of her. She and Sonya were getting along great. I know that she sees her potential just as much as I do. I've shown her how much of an asset Sonya can be for our company. I'm sure I managed to convince her. I'm not just the head of finance for nothing.

  But I guess, work aside, she doesn't want me to be attached to someone who can potentially be out to use me. I want her to understand that Sonya isn't like that. And as for Lauralee, I love that kid just as much as I love her mom.

  If my mother does not see reason, then I don't want her money. If it comes down to having control over the company or being with Sonya, then, of course, I choose the latter.

  I sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Maybe things would have turned out less of a mess if I just told my mother the truth about my plans. She still thinks that I'm going to buy a plane and run off with the money to live the rest of my life partying.

  But I'm not so sure if telling her that I want to invest our money in charity, a non-profit money pit is any better.

&nb
sp; I'm already headed to Sonya's place. I want to tell her the truth. I don't want to hold anything back from her anymore. I'll come clean, and I'll let her know about my plans to make a non-profit charity for women and children. But most importantly, I'll tell her that I love her.

  I bought her flowers and balloons as an apology. I even bought toys for Lauralee.

  I take my phone out of my pocket. I dial Sonya's number, but she isn't answering. I feel panic well up inside of me. She always answers my calls. What if something terrible happened to her or Lauralee? I can't put my finger on it, but something feels wrong. It's like a nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach.

  I keep trying to dial her number, but it keeps going straight to voicemail.

  "Damn it, Sonya," I curse.

  I drive to her place faster, breaking all sorts of laws in my attempt to reach her place in record time. I finally arrive and park my car in a hurry.

  I press for the elevator, but it's taking too long, and my nerves feel like they're already spiking. I decide to take the stairs, reaching the floor of her apartment in a panting mess.

  I ring the doorbell, but nothing. There's no answer.

  I look around, trying to find someplace where she could have hidden a spare key. She's always told me that she has one ready in case of emergencies.

  I notice a potted plant by the corner. I take a look and find a key inside the pot, and I open the door but find that they aren't there.

  A wave of disappointment and anxiety hits me. Where could they be?

  With my shoulders sagged in defeat, I decide to leave. I keep trying to call, but there's still no answer.

  As I'm about to leave the building, I make eye contact with the doorman. I see recognition pass through his features. He immediately smiles and waves hello.

  I'm not really in the mood for friendly pretense, but he's always been nice and cheery whenever I visit Sonya. I return his smile, although it feels forced.