Chapter 14
IVY
Four years ago, I came to California with dreams of making it big. Never did I imagine I’d someday pretend to be the future Mrs. Chase Hunter, riding alongside him in a ritzy private jet.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” the attendant asks me.
“No, thank you.” I blink up at her. “I’m already a pile of jittery nerves without caffeine.”
Chase eyes me. “Relax, Ivy. It’s only a week of pretending. After that, life will zip back to normal.”
Back to normal? Who’d wantthat?
Hunter, Inc.’s private jet, a Gulfstream G650, is smaller than a commercial, but roomier in a sense because it houses fewer seats—which, to my surprise, convert into beds for ultimate relaxation. Chase explained the company also owns a custom Boeing 747 that, inside, looks more like a Las Vegas hotel suite, with a fully equipped master bedroom, a dining room, a small conference room, and a bar. They use that monstrosity when working with higher-end, overseas clients.
We’re two hours into this flight, halfway to New York City. Soon after we took off, the attendant served us mini omelets with toast and juice. BB was fed before we even left Malibu, and I was sure to give her the calming-aid I received from the vet. Little Diva quickly became Sleeping Beauty.
Chase has been slightly occupied with work, but has taken breaks in between to chat with me. As far as I can tell, the man is one hell of a catch. Thoughtful, respectful, and of course, a finely crafted male specimen. Whoever manages to win his heart will be one lucky woman.
He clears his throat. “We have some final details to go over before we land because once we do, it’s game on.”
“Yes, of course. Let’s get them all sorted out. We want to be sure we have no blunders.”
“First things first”—he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet, black box—“I meant to give this to you last night.” Flicking the box open to reveal a five-carat, heart-shaped sparkling gem, he says, “A fake engagement won’t seem real without a proper ring, right?”
I nod hard enough to knock something loose as a shower of heat storms my face. For a split-second, I believe there’s a chance I may pass out.
He unbuckles his seat belt, shifts to face me, holding the shiny ring between his thumb and index finger. “Ivy Bloom, will you pretend to marry me?”
I extend my left hand, shaking as if this moment wasn’t make-believe. He slides the precious stone onto my ring finger and I gasp in surprise. “It actually fits!”
“Yep, Lottie guessed your ring size and I purchased this, paying extra to have it sized and ready before this trip.”
Raising my hand, I wiggle my fingers, gawking over how gorgeous my one finger looks decked out in shimmer and shine. “Chase, this isn’t…”
“Real? Of course it is. Everything about this venture has to seem as authentic as possible.” He shifts again, refastening his seat belt. “Now, about those details. Shall I share a bit about my parents?”
“I’m dying to know, so please share.”
He rakes his fingers through his thick head of hair. “They were high school sweethearts, but broke up when Dad went to college. They stayed apart for about five years, when they ran into each other at a friend’s wedding. Apparently, they ran off to Vegas soon after that and got married.”
I shift in my seat, fascinated, eager to hear more. Chase goes on to explain how Hunter, Inc. came about because of his parents’ shared interest in the stock market and investments. What began as a small consulting venture, soon exploded into the empire it is today.
“Who are you closest to?” I ask, knowing there is always one parent to favor over the other. For me, it’s Ma, even though the woman can drive me batty. Dad does come in a strong second.
“My mother, hands down. Which is why I make it a point to come home for Christmas every year. She got sick six months ago, a bout with breast cancer.”
My heart plunges and I instantly place my hand on his arm. “Oh, Chase, I’m so, so sorry.”
“She’s better now, a true fighter. I spent time with her, during her chemo sessions, and it broke my heart. If it wasn’t for the sweet oncology nurse she grew close to, I think Mom would have spiraled off into a cycle of depression.”
“Ma is an oncology nurse. She shares some tear-provoking stories with me.”
“Really? Kudos to your mom, because to witness all she does, well, it takes a strong person.”
Silence permeates the atmosphere, both of us consumed by thoughts.
He sits up, takes a sip of coffee. “Okay, now about us. We need to decide on where we met and I’m thinking it’s best to keep it simple, say in London at a bank?”
