Which led me to MyFakeFiance.com.
A commercial seeking sign-ups, either as clients or fake-outs for hire.
Mr. Desperado. Yup. That’s me.
Believe it or not, if I could, I’d forgo Christmas at home altogether. But ever since Mom fell ill—thank goodness she’s fully recovered now—I vowed to spend as many holidays home as possible, savoring every precious moment with my fam. Even if I show up this Christmas with a make-believe fiancée.
“Mr. Hunter, we’ve arrived. Shall I wait or come back in an hour or so?” Henry’s stiff voice slays my thoughts as the car glides to a stop in front of a high-rise building.
I shove my phone in its dedicated slot inside my briefcase. “How about you come back in an hour? Go get yourself a cup of coffee or something.”
Henry nods, looking at me through the rearview mirror. He’s been my driver for the last six years and has overheard my end of the most confidential of conversations. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you back here in an hour.”
Once I step out of the town car, closing the door behind me, my eyes trail up the tall glass building. MyFakeFiance.com is on the thirteenth floor.
That alone could be a bad sign.
Doors slide open as I approach the tall, all-glass building and behind me, a high-pitched bark catches my attention.
Before I know it, there’s a miniature, rat-looking dog, teeth ferociously tugging the cuffs of my Armani slacks, as a woman’s voice cries out, “BB, please mind your manners!”
