Fiance Daddy Read online

  Contents

  Fiancé Daddy

  Description

  Chapter 1: Noah

  Chapter 2: Kerry

  Chapter 3: Kerry

  Chapter 4: Noah

  Chapter 5: Kerry

  Chapter 6: Noah

  Chapter 7: Noah

  Chapter 8: Kerry

  Chapter 9: Kerry

  Chapter 10: Noah

  Chapter 11: Kerry

  Chapter 12: Noah

  Chapter 13: Kerry

  Chapter 14: Noah

  Chapter 15: Kerry

  Chapter 16: Kerry

  Chapter 17: Noah

  Chapter 18: Kerry

  Chapter 19: Noah

  Chapter 20: Noah

  Chapter 21: Kerry

  Chapter 22: Noah

  Chapter 23: Kerry

  Chapter 24: Noah

  Chapter 25: Kerry

  Mailing List

  Excerpt From Stud: A College Football Romance

  About The Author

  Fiancé Daddy

  First Edition. December 20, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Michaela Scott

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  He’s the perfect fake fiancé.

  He’s also going to be a father…

  The tech world’s hottest CEO needs a date to an ultra-secret couples’ retreat.

  A date with a ring on her finger.

  I need a story that’s going to kickstart my journalism career.

  So when Noah King, my sworn high school enemy, came to me with the craziest plan I’ve ever heard…

  And an engagement ring in his hand…

  I said yes.

  And then I broke the first rule of fake engagements.

  Don’t sleep with your partner in crime.

  That was a month ago.

  Now everyone thinks we’re in love.

  We even have a fake wedding on the way.

  Oh, yeah, and there’s one more thing.

  The baby he doesn’t know about yet.

  What’s the best way to tell your fake fiancé that he’s going to be a daddy?

  Chapter 1: Noah

  I tap the screen of the cheap plastic phone in my hand, trying to get it to turn on.

  “Is this a fake phone?” I ask the photographer who handed it to me a couple seconds ago, “There’s no logo on the back.”

  “Yeah, but who cares?” The photographer shrugs, getting back behind his camera, “Just look like you’re about to close a million-dollar deal.”

  The camera starts flashing, and I hold the shiny black brick up against my ear, trying to act natural.

  But it’s not working. And there’s no way I’m going to let a pose this awkward end up on the front page of Teen Mogul magazine.

  So fuck it, let’s do this my way. If I’m going to be on the cover of a magazine, the least I can do is look good.

  Sliding the prop phone into my pocket, I loosen my collar and run my fingers through my hair, smirking at the camera like it’s my bathroom mirror.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” The photographer asks, his endless stream of pictures instantly coming to a stop.

  “Saving this photo shoot,” I say, “I want to actually look good on the cover.”

  The photographer starts to object, but Mariah, the editor-in-chief of Teen Mogul, steps in front of the camera and cuts him off.

  “He’s right,” she says, “I’ll take blue eyes and a Superman jaw over a fake phone any day. Stick your chest out a little, Noah.”

  Mariah steps back out of the frame, and I undo the top button of my blazer, looking into the camera with my best male model eyes.

  The photographer shakes his head as he fiddles with the key light next to him. “I remember when this magazine used to care about real moguls.”

  “Wait, you know who this is, right?” Mariah asks, stepping back out from the white backdrop behind me, “It’s Noah King. You know, the founder of Storytell? The guy who came in at number 1 in our ‘10 Hottest Young Moguls’ list from last month?”

  Mark looks unimpressed. “Okay, but what has he actually done?”

  Mariah scoffs. “You’ve never heard of Storytell? The video-sharing app? It’s spreading like wildfire among the 13-17 crowd. It’s only a matter of time before we’re all going to be using it.”

  The photographer shrugs. “Speak for yourself. I don’t even have an email account.”

  “Where did you find this guy?” I ask Mariah.

  “I know, I know,” she says, “But once you get him on track, his photos are incredible. Just wait.”

  Then, she looks over my shoulder at the photographer. “Remember: sexy blue eyes. That’s what we want on peoples’ front doorsteps next month.”

  Grumbling, the photographer adjusts a bunch of settings on his camera, and then tilts it back up towards me. I hook my thumbs into my pockets, cocking an eyebrow at the lens with just a hint of a smirk on my lips.

  And I stay like that, composed for the camera, as a red-headed intern walks into the studio with a tray of drinks.

  Mariah angrily runs over to the intern, making a cameo appearance in a couple photos as she crosses the camera’s path. “Kerry, what did I tell you about barging in here while we’re shooting? You’re supposed to wait for a break!”

  Wait a second. Kerry? Red hair? I thought she looked a little familiar out of the corner of my eye, but there’s no fucking way…

  Breaking eye contact with the lens, I look over towards the intern, who’s awkwardly avoiding my gaze as she hands a vile-looking bright green drink to Mariah. Her red hair is pulled up in a familiar messy bun, and her eyes are a shade of hazel that I’d recognize anywhere.

  That’s her, alright. Kerry Miller. What are the fucking odds?

  “It’s alright, Mariah,” I say, walking up to the two of them, “Don’t get mad at her. She just wanted to come in and say hi because it’s been a couple years since we’ve seen each other.”

  “Ugh, that’s definitely not—” Kerry starts to object, but stops mid-sentence and swallows her words as she looks over at Mariah and realizes I just gave her an out. “Actually, yeah. That…is why I came in early.”

  Mariah looks back and forth between us in amazement. “You two know each other?”

  “I went to high school with him.” Kerry says, glaring at me, “When I worked for the school paper, I had to write a couple articles about him.”

  “Yeah, a couple hundred,” I say, “She couldn’t get enough of me.”

  I can see the insults burning in Kerry’s eyes as she looks up at me. “It wasn’t my choice. He was very…newsworthy…back then.”

  “Wow,” Mariah says, clapping her hands together, “You know what? Let’s stop the photo shoot for a second and do a coffee break! I want to hear more about this.”

  I look down at the radioactive-looking green drinks on Kerry’s tray, smothered in whipped cream and sprinkles. “That’s…coffee?”

  “Yeah,” Mariah says, “I had Kerry bring us all Leprechaun Lattes to celebrate our March cover. They’re supposed to be good luck!”

  Holding back laughter, I look down at Kerry. “You brought me a Leprechaun Latte?”

  Kerry glares daggers at me. “Yep. Drink up.”

  I grab a latte off the tray and take a sip. It tastes like melted movie theatre candy.

  “Actually, you know what?” Mariah says, looking at her phone, “I think we’re going to have to wrap this up as soon as we can. I have a very important meeting in an hour about our April cover. But don’t worry, Kerry. Now that I know you two know each other, you’ll definitely be seeing a lot more of Noah soon.”

  “Can’t wait…” Kerry says in a deadpan vo
ice, waiting for Mark to take the last latte off the tray before turning and heading back through the studio door.

  I guess she’s still as sarcastic as ever. I grin as I watch her leave.

  “Mark,” Mariah says, “Do we have the cover yet?”

  Mark looks down at his camera. “I don’t think so. Let’s do a couple more shots.”

  “Fine,” Mariah says, “But not too many more. I’ve got a helicopter waiting for me on the roof in half an hour.”

  I look over at Mariah. “Wait, really? Who are you meeting?”

  Mariah tries to play it cool, but I can see how nervous she is. “Well, normally, that would be highly confidential information, and it’s also not confirmed yet, but let’s just say it involves a certain very high profile businessman who may or may not have something to do with the phone you have in your pocket. The real one, not the fake one.”

  Wait, seriously? Well shit, now it’s my turn to try and play it cool. “Oh yeah? Lucas Fox, huh?”

  “Well, you didn’t hear it from me…” Mariah says.

  “Wow,” I say, “You guys are really moving up in the world.”

  Mariah lets out a nervous laugh. “We don’t exactly have a choice. As a print magazine, big moves are the only way we can keep the lights on.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I say, swiveling back towards the camera lens and gesturing for Mark to start taking pictures again, “But if you can get on Lucas Fox’s good side, these lights are going to stay on for a long time.”

  Well, it looks like I may be giving Teen Mogul a little more of my time than I thought I would. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with Lucas Fox for months, but he’s not the easiest guy in the world to get in touch with, and even though he’s been too busy for me, he apparently hasn’t been too busy for Teen Mogul magazine. I make a mental note to follow up with Mariah tomorrow and ask her about her interview with Lucas. The people I asked about him say he doesn’t even live in New York anymore, he runs his company from a remote location outside the city.

  Which would explain the helicopter.

  And then there’s Kerry, probably the last person I thought I’d run into today. I don’t think I’ve seen her since Storytell started to take off. And if I’m going to be hanging around here trying to get a meeting with Lucas, I’ll definitely be seeing her again.

  I look at the camera lens and imagine it’s Kerry, giving it the cocky half-smile that used to always drive her crazy.

  “Wow,” the photographer says, looking down at his camera. “Yeah, I think we’re done here. This one’s definitely the cover.”

  Chapter 2: Kerry

  “Hey, Kerry? I have an important job for you.”

  “Really!?” I ask, my breath catching in my throat as I stop in my tracks outside the open door to my supervisor’s office. I’ve been waiting for someone to say those words ever since I got here, especially the word “Kerry.” I’ve been here almost a month, and to most of the office, I’m still “Intern,” “New Girl,” or “Coffee Girl.”

  Ron, my supervisor, looks up from his phone. “Yeah, could you take these cardboard boxes down to the recycling bin in the lobby?”

  He points to the corner of the room, where a big stack of flattened boxes is leaning up against the office wall.

  “Yes, sir,” I say with a sigh.

  “Is something wrong?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

  “Oh, well…you said it was going to be an important job, so I got excited for a second.”

  Ron throws his hands up. “What’s more important than saving the planet? If the stack is too heavy, you can take two trips.”

  “No, no, I’m okay,” I say, stepping into the office and taking the stack of boxes up into my arms, “But, uh…you know, I only have five more months here, and this was supposed to be a writing internship. Do you think I’m ever going to get a chance to actually help make the magazine?”

  “Well,” Ron says, “Teen Mogul is made from 98% recycled paper, so technically, you are helping make the magazine!”

  Dejected, I turn and start to leave the office, “Should I go get you a Leprechaun Latte while I’m down there?”

  Ron looks at me sympathetically. “Look, I know it sucks, but I’m not actually in charge of handing out writing assignments. If you want to try and get some writing in the magazine, you should try and talk to Mariah.”

  “I did,” I say, “And she told me to come talk to you.”

  My supervisor’s phone starts ringing on his desk. “Whoa, uh, could we pick this up later? I really have to take this call.”

  “Sure,” I say, trying not to look too deflated until I’m out of the office.

  “I wish I could recycle this internship into another one,” I whisper to the cardboard boxes once I’m out in the hallway, “Or hey, maybe I should have just been like Noah and not cared about school and acted like a complete tool until a million dollars fell into my lap.”

  “Well, it did work,” a low, deep voice says behind me.

  I spin around and clutch the flattened boxes to my chest as I see Noah King behind me, leaning up against one of the vintage Teen Mogul covers painted on the office walls.

  “Ugh, you’re still here? Don’t you have something better to do?” I ask, rolling my eyes and turning towards the elevator.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Noah says, walking beside me down the hallway close enough for me to smell his expensive cologne. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of him since we graduated high school, but the pictures don’t really do justice to how big he is now. He’s a couple inches taller, but he’s also seriously been hitting the gym. Combine that with his messy, dirty blonde hair, his stubbly, superhero jawline, and his ice-blue eyes, and the annoying boy I used to interview for the school paper is definitely a man now.

  On the outside, at least. I have my doubts about the inside.

  I speed up towards the elevators, but Noah beats me to it, reaching past me and pushing the down button.

  “Oh, good,” I say, “You’re leaving.”

  “Yeah,” he says, “And once you dump those boxes, you’re coming with me. I’ve got a table for two waiting at a sushi spot a few blocks from here.”

  I roll my eyes, stepping into the open elevator and pressing the Close Doors button right as I enter. “Just because you make a jillion dollars per second on your stupid app doesn’t mean I have to do what you say.”

  “Right,” Noah says, ducking through the closing doors, “But when your co-workers see you leave with the guy on the cover of their magazine, maybe they’ll start handing their recycling to someone else.”

  I think about it for a couple seconds. “Fine,” I say, “But I’m getting the most expensive thing on the menu, and you’re paying.”

  “Deal,” Noah says, grinning at me in the reflection of the elevator door, “I hope you like caviar.”

  ***

  I think I’m the only person in this whole sushi place who isn’t wearing designer clothes that cost more than my rent. Not that there are a lot of people here; this place is a little hole in the wall that only has room for about ten guests.

  When the sushi chef behind the counter sees us, he says something to Noah in Japanese.

  “The usual for me,” Noah says, “But she wants the house special.”

  The chef looks at me, taken aback, and calls the order back over his shoulder into the kitchen.

  “When you try one of these rolls, you’re going to be ruined for other sushi forever,” Noah says, pulling out my chair, “After you.”

  “This isn’t a date, you know,” I say, sitting down across from Noah, “I hope you realize that.”

  “Oh, of course,” Noah says, his blue eyes shining in the dim restaurant light, “When I ask you out on a date, you’ll know.”

  I watch Noah for a couple seconds, trying to read his face. “So…what? You’re a hotshot business icon, I’m a lowly magazine intern, and this is some type of rubbing it in my face for being mean to you in h
igh school?”

  Noah bursts out laughing. “What!? No! It’s exactly what it looks like. Just two old friends catching up.”

  He’s quiet for a couple seconds. “Well, there is one thing you could help me with over at Teen Mogul.”

  “I knew it!” I say, pointing a chopstick at him, “You want me to spy on my bosses!”

  “Well,” he says with a shrug, “Kind of. I want you to find out anything you can about Lucas Fox talking to Teen Mogul, and then I want you to report it to me.”

  I scoff. “Okay, that should be easy. I don’t think we’re really in Lucas Fox’s orbit. We usually get B and C-list moguls like you, not actual billionaires.”

  Noah’s face cracks into a smirk. “That’s not what Mariah was saying. She left my photo shoot to go meet with him, by helicopter, to talk about him being on the April cover.”

  “Seriously? Why would he do that? He barely lets people put his picture in the newspaper.”

  “Exactly,” Noah says, “Something weird is going on. And since I’ve been trying to get in touch with Lucas for months now about partnering with his company…I want to know what it is.”

  “And you’re bribing me with sushi,” I say, as the chef steps out from the kitchen with two plates piled high with sushi rolls and two glasses of sake and sets them in front of us.

  Noah’s blue eyes meet mine as he pops a sashimi roll into his mouth. “You’re too good at what you do to be getting people coffee and recycling boxes. I can help you get a job doing what you actually want to do…whether it’s at Teen Mogul or somewhere else.”

  I hold tightly onto my chopsticks, trying not to let Noah know how badly I want to take him up on his offer. After all, how am I going to be able to look in the mirror if I know that Noah, the bane of my existence for four years of high school, is the only reason I rose through the ranks? And what’s to say that once I’m somewhere else, he’s not going to make me into his full-time, personal spy?

  But still, no more bringing Leprechaun Lattes to people who don’t even know my name? It does sound tempting.