Billionaire’s Missing Baby Page 20

  At this, Nick set his papers down altogether and crossed his arms. “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

  Chapter 7

  When Dana heard her sister’s keys rattling in the door, she took a deep breath and put on a winning smile. She’d picked up pizza on the way home (they always ordered two, one for each of them, and ate leftovers for the next few lunches) and, while she waited nervously, done Maya’s half of the weekly chores.

  Now, Dana tried to look as innocent as possible, waiting in the kitchen, as the front door swung open and Maya came trudging through with her bag. She was still in her waitress uniform under the coat, and the smell of baked bread and candle smoke entered with her. Maya worked at an upscale joint with a French name that Dana could never recall. Good hours, good tips.

  Maya seemed to be in a good mood as she walked past the kitchen. She caught sight of the pizza boxes and grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language. Hold on, let me change out of these clothes.”

  So Dana waited another excruciating ten minutes while Maya slipped out of her uniform, threw the clothes in the washer, washed off her make-up… there were times when Dana wished Maya wasn’t such a thorough perfectionist.

  Finally, her younger sister returned to the kitchen in an old t-shirt and sweatpants and poured herself some iced tea. All at once, it seemed to hit her how Dana had been standing in exactly the same place since Maya had walked in the door. “How was your day?” she asked hesitantly.

  “It was good!” Dana answered, but her voice came out a little higher than she meant it to. She cleared her throat and Maya raised an eyebrow.

  “Are… you all right? Is everything okay at work?”

  “No—I mean, everything’s great at work,” Dana insisted. She took a deep breath. “I have some good news, though. Your medical school is… paid for.”

  Maya froze in the process of helping herself to a slice of supreme stuffed-crust. She stared at Dana as cheese drooped towards the kitchen counter. “It’s… what?”

  “Paid for. Call it the… Andrew Poole Scholarship Foundation.”

  Maya set the pizza slice down. “He’s… he’s going to pay for my school? All of it?”

  Dana shrugged, still smiling. “Start to finish.”

  Maya stood there, mouth open. Dana had expected anger and wrath, or at least skepticism. At least while Maya was speechless, there would be no arguing about the subject.

  “And I’ve agreed to pretend to be his fiancée for a couple weeks,” Dana added. “In return.”

  Maya’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Dana… you… I can’t let you do that… it’s… wow.” Maya leaned against the counter, eyes wide. “That’s so, so generous of him, even if he’s twisting your arm for it, but I can’t possibly let you—”

  “Yes, you can.” Dana crossed her arms. I can be stubborn, too, she thought.

  “Dana!” Maya wrung her hands. “I can’t let you do this! It’s—”

  “Maya,” Dana interrupted her again. “You’ve been waiting for an opportunity to come up that would get you out of paying all that money, or being in all that debt. Well, here it is.” She raised both eyebrows, crossed her arms, and let Maya work out the details in her own head.

  “I’m… I’m going to be able to start medical school,” Maya said weakly.

  Dana nodded.

  Maya fanned herself. “Oh, boy. I… I think I need to sit down.”

  ***

  The next evening, Maya and Dana were home early, eating leftover pizza and giggling.

  “Who knows what he’ll think if you wear that,” Maya smirked.

  Dana turned in the mirror again to look at the dress from all angles. It was a lovely, high-waisted cap-sleeve, teal from the empire waist to the sleeves, and creamy white through the skirt. It was a little low-cut, although Dana was smaller on top that Maya. She bent over a little, experimentally.

  “Maybe it is too low,” Dana agreed. “Can you help me unzip it?”

  “Why even dress up?” Maya asked slyly. “It isn’t really a date. You’re just going to plan a strategy and decide where you’ll have to show up with these Westcorp people, aren’t you?” She unzipped the back of Dana’s dress as she said this.

  “Oh, quiet you,” Dana waved her off. “I never get to dress nice.”

  “What about the red one?”

  “The red one?” Dana asked, horrified. “Talk about the wrong impression!”

  Maya took another bite of pizza and shrugged. “That one has a higher neckline than the teal.”

  “Yeah, with no back.”

  “It does too have a back,” Maya rolled her eyes. “If it’s not as low as that one dress Rhianna wore that one time—”

  “No, that one had no butt. And I definitely don’t own anything like that.” Still, Dana took out the red dress. It was a sheath style, with a neckline that scooped modestly just above her collarbones. Supposedly that style wasn’t flattering to wide hips and narrow shoulders, but Dana had always liked the way it looked on her. She pulled it off the hanger. Maya clapped.

  “I’ll try it on…”

  And yet, at seven-thirty, Dana was leaving her condo with the red dress on, underneath a black pea coat she rarely wore. Her wiry hair was wound up and tied with a bright red bow that matched the dress, although she’d dodged out of the heels Maya suggested.

  Andrew had given Dana his address. It was several streets away, probably an hour’s walk, so Dana hailed a taxi and climbed in. She rarely used Yellow Cab. She kept an eye on the meter, uncertain if there had been a rate hike since she’d ridden last. It wasn’t too terrible, and Dana handed up the bills in relief. She stepped out on the curb, and stared up at the skyscraper before her.

  She’d known Andrew was rich. It shouldn’t have surprised her that his condo was in a luxury complex, with gleaming mirrored panels around the entry, and a valet at the front. She crossed to the entrance and hit the button for Andrew’s unit.

  A few moments passed. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Andrew! It’s Dana!”

  “Here! I’ll buzz you in.”

  Seconds later the front door clicked, and Dana let herself inside. The interior was just as fine as the outside, with warm wood paneling and a curving stair case that led upward past a magnificent window. Since Andrew was on the fifteenth floor, Dana called an elevator. On floor fifteen, she stepped out and found the right numbered entryway—and it was an entryway, not just a door. She hadn’t even been in his place yet, and Dana’s own condo was starting to feel like a hovel.

  Dana took a deep breath, willing her silly nerves to settle down. She pressed the doorbell.

  Andrew opened the door almost immediately.

  “Hey! Come in!”

  She did, looking around curiously. The first thing to hit her was the wonderful savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. Andrew’s place was neat and orderly and rather plain, as if he’d put furniture in and then not bothered with anything more personal. There was some blocky art on one wall—Dana had a strong feeling that it had been put there as part of a set, because it matched the coffee and end tables in the living room.

  “Nice place,” she said finally. And then she saw the cat.

  “Aww!” Dana made a beeline for the couch, where a huge gray and white tomcat was reclining, whacking his tail imperiously with his big eyes half-closed. Dana approached carefully, and reached out a hand to stroke him. The cat made no effort to stop her. “He’s so soft! I’ve always wanted a cat, but my last roommates had a dog, and Maya’s allergic.”

  “His name’s Gandalf,” Andrew replied with a chuckle. “Believe me, if you keep that up, he’ll probably try to follow you home.”

  True enough, Gandalf had begun to purr thunderously. Dana scratched his ears one last time and stood to follow Andrew to the dining room. On the way, she stopped and hung up her coat on the rack next to the front door.

  “Wow!” Andrew blurted, seeing her dress. He looked down at his own slacks and button-up shirt, th
e sleeves rolled to the elbow. He wasn’t wearing shoes. “If I’d known you were going to dress up, I—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dana said quickly, growing embarrassed. “I never get a chance to wear anything nice. It was just an excuse to put this on.” She kicked off her shoes and followed Andrew.

  It sure felt strange to be in Andrew’s condo. He seemed to feel it, too. Every time he thought she wasn’t looking, Andrew was sneaking glances at her, and Dana wondered if he was regretting their arrangement, or wishing he’d just agreed to meet her somewhere less personal. He poured them two glasses of red wine, and Dana sipped hers thoughtfully.

  For herself, Andrew’s living space felt alien, but comfortable. He clearly didn’t bring many people up here. He seemed to have no idea what to do with company.

  “Um… I… I made some salmon and a salad,” he said sheepishly. “We probably should have gone out, though, now I feel cheap…”

  Dana looked at the dinner he’d made in disbelief. The “salmon” was wood-charred salmon fillet with roasted almonds in some sort of white cream sauce, and the “salad” was two separate arrangements of colorful fruits and cheese stacked on a bed of spinach. Off to the side was a small loaf of bread that looked suspiciously like Andrew had made it himself. It could have been something Maya brought home from her fancy French restaurant.

  “Don’t be silly,” Dana insisted, “this looks great! Did you make all this yourself?”

  Andrew reddened and held her chair for her. “Well, I didn’t catch the salmon, but besides that, yeah.”

  “Where’d you learn to cook?”

  “YouTube.”

  Dana giggled, and Andrew blushed darker.

  “Does your sister like me better now?” he asked jokingly.

  Dana rolled her eyes. “She’s talked about nothing else since yesterday. I thought it would be harder to win her over, but she’s so excited about starting school, she seems to have forgotten how against this whole idea she was two days ago.”

  Andrew looked honestly relieved. “That’s good to hear. I mean, she’s your sister. I didn’t want her to think… well, I guess I just didn’t want her to think badly of me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about her,” Dana assured him. She took another sip of wine. It was gloriously smooth and rich. “Maya has always been cautious, and moving to New York only made her paranoid. But she likes it here, and now that she’s starting school, she’s doing what she moved here to do.”

  “Good, good.”

  They dug in, and since the food was just as scrumptious as it looked—she’d never tasted salmon cooked so perfectly, and the salad was fresh and crisp—Dana didn’t have much to say for several minutes except compliments. Andrew accepted them, blushing.

  Finally, he brought up the inevitable. “So, I’ve figured out what we’re doing.”

  “Well, at least one of us has,” Dana teased, setting her fork down. “All right. Tell me.”

  “The good news is, I have it narrowed down to two appearances,” Andrew started. “You and I will have dinner with Marcel and his wife next week—I haven’t met with Marcel yet, but that sort of night out together is pretty typical—and then again when we announce the project at a—like a charity ball event type soiree.”

  “That’s pretty good news,” agreed Dana. This was a relief. Andrew had told her from the beginning that it would only be a couple events, but in the back of her mind she’d still been afraid that she would get dragged into a whole mess of meetings. “Does that mean there’s bad news?”

  “Unfortunately,” Andrew dug in his pocket apologetically, “no engagement, real or otherwise, is complete without one of these.”

  He presented her with a tiny velvet box across the table. Dana accepted it with a sigh, trying to hide the sudden thrill that shot up her spine. Fake or not, this was still a little exciting. “Well, I guess I knew this was coming.”

  She opened the box, and gasped. When she looked inside, Dana had fully expected to see a diamond. What waited was much better. Andrew had found an elegant gold setting—it was delicate and flowery, like vines—clasping an enormous emerald. It was as big as Gandalf’s eye, and much greener, like the depths of the sea.

  “Oh my God, Andrew,” Dana breathed. “How much did you spend on this?”

  “That’s what you think of first?”

  “No—I mean,” Dana looked up at him, “I meant, it’s beautiful. Much better than a diamond ring.”

  He grinned in self-satisfaction and tugged at his sleeves absently. “We were talking about it a while ago, and you said emeralds were so much prettier than diamonds, and rarer—”

  Dana blushed. “I didn’t mean to set you on a wild goose chase. I hope this wasn’t too much trouble.”

  Andrew shook his head and lifted the ring out of the box. “No trouble. Here.” He took her left hand and slid the ring on the third finger. “How does it feel?”

  “Perfect,” Dana replied, smiling. “And heavy! Oh, Andrew, I hope you can get your money back for this ring when all this is over.”

  The moment the words left her lips, Dana regretted them. The warmth between them chilled suddenly, just a little, and Dana realized that she had almost forgotten it wasn’t real. She looked down at the ring and gave a small, nervous laugh.

  “I’ll be afraid to wear it! What if I lose it?”

  Andrew’s smile came back. “Don’t worry, I have it insured.”

  “Insured? Just how much was this ring, anyway?”

  Andrew picked up his fork and seemed to think. “Traditionally, I think it’s bad luck or something to tell your fiancée how much you spent on the ring. But…” he drew the word out playfully. “Our situation isn’t exactly traditional.”

  He told her. Dana felt her face go slack, and Andrew started laughing uncontrollably.

  “Are you crazy?” she hissed, half-hysterical, half-pleased. She stared at the ring with new wonder. “You spent that much on a temporary engagement ring?!”

  “Well, Marcel knows how much I make,” Andrew pointed out. “Or at least, an estimate. He knows what good jewelry looks like—I’m sure he buys plenty of it for his wife. Maybe he wouldn’t know the difference, but I’m sure she would. Either way, even if they don’t suspect we’re pretending, I definitely don’t want them to think I cheaped out on my fiancée’s ring.”

  “That’s true.” Dana had to agree. She liked jewels and sparkly things as much as the next girl, but she’d never owned fine jewelry and had no eye for it. All she knew was that it was beautiful. But a man and woman who looked at the real thing all the time might judge Andrew a little harshly if it looked like he wouldn’t even dish out the cash for his fiancée’s engagement band.

  “It sounds like we have a plan,” Dana said with a shrug. “I guess we’ll just go on as usual?”

  “Definitely,” Andrew agreed immediately. “I don’t want you to feel like anything in your life has changed. Well, except, please wear the ring like you would if you were actually engaged. I doubt Marcel is going to try and spy on you, but in case he does…”

  A chill raised goosebumps on her arms. “You think he might spy on me?”

  “I doubt it,” Andrew waved the possibility off.

  When they were finished with dinner, Dana stubbornly helped Andrew clear the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. She took the ring off and tucked it into her bra while she did so. At Andrew’s curious look, she laughed. “This dress has no pockets,” she explained. “I don’t want to set it on the counter and accidentally knock it down the drain.”

  Andrew hadn’t had time to make dessert, but he did have a pack of Oreos in the pantry, so the two of them stood in his kitchen, barefoot, dipping Oreos in milk while chatting about the project. Their conversation migrated and mutated. They complained about the subway, and laughed about the stores already selling Christmas decorations before Halloween. Andrew asked Dana for a picture (“I should have a picture of my fiancée on my phone, shouldn’t I?”), which
she posed for with a silly smile. Tomorrow was the meeting with Marcel. At the mention of Marcel, Dana remembered the ring and fished it back out to wear on her finger.

  “See, if I’d forgotten it on a counter somewhere, we’d be in trouble. Much better to just keep it where it’s safe.” Andrew made a face and Dana laughed. Gandalf, who’d heard the milk carton, yowled from where he was waiting in the corner.

  It had been a while since Dana had looked at the clock, and when she finally remembered she was shocked to find it was already past eleven. “Is that really the time? I’d better get home. I’ve got work in the morning.”

  “I’ll walk you down,” Andrew offered immediately. Dana tried to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but he was already pulling his shoes on. She let him, finding it gentlemanly and old-fashioned and truly appreciated.

  “Thank you so much for dinner, Andrew,” Dana said as she hailed a taxi. “It was delicious. You might be a better cook than businessman.”

  “We’ll see tomorrow,” Andrew joked.

  “We’ll see,” Dana agreed.

  “I’ll see you on the train,” Andrew called as she climbed into a taxi. He paid the driver in advance—over Dana’s protests—and waved as the cab pulled away from the curb.

  Alone in the backseat, Dana took off her glove and admired the ring. It glittered as if alive, even in the semi-darkness. She could hardly believe Andrew had remembered her mentioning emeralds. That had been months ago. He’d looked so anxious when she opened the box—had Andrew been worried that she wouldn’t like it?

  Tonight had been the best date she’d had in a long time, even if it technically wasn’t a date. Tired and happy, Dana leaned her head back against the headrest. Maybe this arrangement wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

  Chapter 8

  Watching her taxi roll away down the street, Andrew stood there for a while, smiling at traffic. When he finally realized where he was, standing out on the streets of New York with a stupid grin in the blustering, soggy cold, he turned to go back inside. The valet averted his eyes tactfully.