Pretending to be Rich Read online

  Pretending to be Rich

  Weston Parker

  BrixBaxter Publishing

  Contents

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  Description

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

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  Copyright

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  www.westonparkerbooks.com

  Description

  It was against my will.

  But family has a way of forcing you into tight spots, right?

  My wealthy father wanted me at his swanky benefit and refused to budge.

  Luckily for me, the most beautiful curvy woman happened to come too.

  Only one problem: she thinks I’m rich too.

  No way in hell I can tell her the truth.

  Women like men that can deck them out in jewels, and that ain’t me.

  I don’t share in the family inheritance, not yet at least.

  Hard work is all I know. It’s who I am.

  But will she understand that if the truth comes to light?

  I’m just a normal guy in love with a woman far above my paygrade.

  And she’s going to freak when she finds out I’ve been pretending to be rich.

  Introduction

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  Chapter 1

  Cade

  I felt the burn in my thighs as I squatted down to restock the cups in my gelato shop. I had been working out regularly and shedding my baby fat finally, considering I was twenty-eight. Better late than never, I reasoned.

  I had cranked up the weight on the leg press, and I felt it. When I had first started my journey, it was just about losing a few pounds and my jelly belly, courtesy of my love of gelato, meatball subs, and cheeseburgers.

  It had been a long journey, but I had shed the weight. Then with the encouragement of my trainer, I had kept going. He’d been helping me build muscle, and I was pretty damn proud of my success.

  I had always been the fat kid and then the fat friend but not anymore. I looked up from where I was squatted on the floor, my eyes level with the many different flavors of gelato in the case. The chocolate was looking especially appealing in that moment. I had decided not to deny myself a treat now and again. I grabbed one of the cups I had been stocking and reached for the spoon.

  “Don’t even think about it, mister!”

  I nearly hit my head on the glass. “Shit, I didn’t know you still worked here,” I said, dropping the spoon and turning to glare at my employee, Kacia Baros.

  “Whatever, I was here yesterday. I thought you were taking today off?” She grabbed an apron and tied it around her trim waist.

  “I didn’t know if you would show up,” I grumbled, checking my watch. “Mondays have not proven to be your best day. Hell, I don’t know if you have a best day.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m five minutes late. The store isn’t open. It doesn’t take me an hour to set up. Only old guys like you need that much time. I’m young and spry and can move a lot faster.”

  In that particular moment, she was right. I wasn’t moving fast—not today. My legs were feeling a little weak. “A good employee shows up when they are scheduled,” I said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind for when I start working toward my employee of the month plaque,” she quipped.

  She pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and grabbed a towel from the clean bucket, quickly wiping down the counter before tidying up the chairs and tables in the small lobby area. I finished stocking and realized we were about a minute late to open the doors.

  I grabbed my keys and opened the blinds before unlocking the door. There were three men outside, young French guys, obviously on holiday.

  “Good morning,” I greeted them, holding the door open for them.

  “Is it morning?” one of them asked, speaking heavily accented English. “The sign says you were to open ten minutes ago.”

  “Actually, a minute ago, but have some gelato,” I said. Then under my breath, I muttered, “That will help get your mood right.”

  The boys sidled up to the counter and ogled Kacia. Kacia was a pretty Greek girl, with dark brown hair and eyes and an olive skin tone. She was like my little sister, and I hated when the cocky gents like the boys standing in front of her openly hit on her. She could handle herself just fine, but I didn’t like that she had to deal with that shit.

  “What can I get for you guys?” she asked in an upbeat tone.

  “I’ll have a piece of you,” one of the guys said.

  I nearly grabbed his stupid little man bun and threw him out of the shop. I refrained, pretending to be busy wiping down a nearby table.

  “Chocolate is a popular choice,” Kacia replied, completely ignoring his attempt to flirt. If that was flirting, my game was on point.

  “Can I lick the chocolate off of you?” the same punk asked.

  “Get out,” I said, stepping forward and right into their personal space.

  The gangly punks turned to look at me, all three of them sizing me up. I smirked when I saw them realize I was bigger than all three of their scrawny asses put together. I gave them my best glare, staring at each one of them.

  “We’re customers,” one of them said. “You can’t talk to us like that.”

  “You’re not my customers. Get out before I take you out. One. By. One.”

  They gave me a dirty look, turned to sneer at Kacia, and walked out, cursing and bitching the whole way. I let out a breath. I wasn’t really a fighter. I was a big guy, and I had the Italian Stallion thing going, but I was really a big softie. I wasn’t entirely sure what I would do if someone tried to take me up on one of my threats. I would probably cry and huddle in a ball.

  “You love me,” Kacia said with a grin after the boys were gone.

  I raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do. You love me. You stood up for me.” She grinned bigger.

  “You’re a royal pain in my ass and one of three employees I have.”

  “Here I thought you were mad at me today,” she said in a sing-song voice. “But you love me.”

  I groaned. “Shut up. Next time, you can deal with them yourself.”

  “I would have dealt with them, but then you’d have to buy a new glass case,” she said.

  “You weigh a hundred pounds, soaking wet,” I replied.

  She giggled. “And they weighed like one fifty.”

  I nodded. “True. I’m going to the office. Try not to flirt with the customers.” I headed toward the back.

  “If I’m n
ot here when you get back, it’s because I ran away with one of the customers to start a new life,” she hollered.

  “You’ll be back,” I yelled over my shoulder. “No one can put up with your shit for long.” I stepped into my tiny office and closed the door behind me.

  She was a firecracker. When she had walked through the door a year ago, essentially demanding I give her a job, I couldn’t say no. She’d been all of nineteen, fresh out of school, and looking for a job to support herself. I made it very clear she was not going to be making enough to live in the lap of luxury. She said she didn’t mind. She was feisty and took no shit from anyone. If I had a little sister, I imagined she would have been just like Kacia.

  I checked my watch, did the time difference, and estimated it was probably about three in the morning for Rand. I grinned, picked up my phone, and sent a quick message asking him if he was asleep. I waited, knowing he kept his phone nearby just in case of an emergency.

  The phone beeped. A “fuck you” message with an emoji of the middle finger made my day. I missed my friend, but he was happy, and that was what mattered. He had seemed to find his groove in the US. There was talk he’d be coming back one day, but for now, he and Nicole were building a life together. He certainly deserved some happiness in his life.

  I put the phone aside and pulled up the inventory program on the computer. It was the end of summer, and the height of the tourist season was over. The world, except for a handful of savvy travelers, seemed to forget that the weather in Crete was beautiful until at least the end of October. Hell, compared to most of the world, winter was the perfect time of year in Crete.

  I loved the rain and the cool temps and the serious depletion of tourists. From a business standpoint, the lack of tourists was a bit of a downer, but we managed to keep the doors open. I capitalized on my unique flavors and the fact I was an Italian in Greece with an authentic gelato shop. It wasn’t like they could go anywhere else to get my sweet treats.

  My phone rang. I expected it to be Rand wanting to chew my ass out for waking him up and now he couldn’t get back to sleep. Turnabout was fair play. He’d been doing the exact same thing for close to a year. Granted, I didn’t have a baby that kept me up at night, but I still liked my beauty sleep.

  I stared at the number, not immediately recognizing it, but then it hit me. “Oh shit,” I mumbled, staring at the phone as if it were a snake ready to strike.

  It was my dad or one of my dad’s people. I couldn’t imagine he would actually be calling me. The only time we talked was when he wanted to bitch at me for not being home. I often reminded him that home to me was Greece.

  We’d moved to Crete when I was a boy. I was raised in the city and chose to stay when they decided to move back to Italy. Crete was my home. Heraklion, to be specific.

  I knew if I didn’t answer, there was a good chance he would send someone to the front door. He was that stubborn and demanding. I reached for the phone, closing my eyes and sending up a prayer for strength and answered.

  “Hello, Dad,” I answered, trying to sound upbeat.

  “I’ll be in town tonight. We’ll have dinner at Avli at seven. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call without another word.

  I held the phone in my hand, staring at it to make sure he had really just hung up on me. I didn’t get a chance to accept or reject his invitation. He simply expected me to be there, no questions asked. That was the way it was with him. His way was the only way. There were no options.

  When I had chosen to stay behind when they moved back, he’d been pissed. He hadn’t spoken to me for months, and now, when he did talk to me, it was curt. Curt bordering on rude and hateful.

  I knew he was disappointed in me. I wasn’t wealthy. I didn’t have twenty-two houses scattered around the world. I had a simple house with a simple business and lived a simple life. I wasn’t exactly destitute, but I didn’t particularly want the trappings of wealth, especially if they turned me into a man like him. He was a pretentious asshole on a good day. He was not a man I ever wanted to be. While a lot of sons admired their fathers, I didn’t. He was everything I didn’t want to be like.

  I didn’t want to be the kind of father he was. I didn’t want to treat people like shit. I didn’t want to walk around like my shit didn’t stink. I didn’t want to be wealthy and expect the world to jump when I snapped my fingers.

  “Fucker.” I pushed my phone away as if that could put some distance between us.

  As angry as he made me and as much as I didn’t want to go, we both knew I would show up like a good little boy because I didn’t have the balls to ignore an order from him. He was that kind of dad.

  If I didn’t show up on time to dinner, he would no doubt send a search party after me. They would find me in whatever hole I crawled into and drag me back to him. Delaying it would only make it worse. My mood soured dramatically with the dinner looming over me like a dark cloud.

  I stared at the inventory sheet, not seeing the numbers. Instead, I was thinking back to the last visit from my dad. It hadn’t ended well. It never did. Tonight wouldn’t be any different.

  He’d bitch and lecture, and then he’d ridicule and tell me to visit more often—because that was how one always invited one home for a visit.

  Chapter 2

  Eliana

  I pulled the earbuds from my ears as I walked closer to the event venue. I tucked them into the pocket of my purse, not wanting to lose them after saving up to buy them. I loved music, and listening to music through a high-quality pair of earbuds was so much better than the cheap knockoffs. I could live with cheap things, secondhand things, and things that most people would throw in the trash, but I loved good music.

  I wasn’t sure what the event was for the night and was curious to find out. Working as a waitress for events was fun. I got to meet a lot of interesting people. People I would never meet normally.

  I was so focused on the large building in front of me, I didn’t hear the footsteps running up behind me until it was too late. I jumped and screamed when fingers pinched my ass. I spun around, ready to kick some ass, and saw Lola Rallis, my friend and coworker, laughing and pointing at me.

  “What the hell?” I said, putting a hand on my hip. “You scared me to death!”

  “You should pay attention to what’s happening around you. You’re going to get mugged one of these days.”

  I frowned at her, staring at the smile on her face that showed off a set of perfect white teeth. She was a pretty woman, and I had immediately been drawn to her when we’d first met. She was a ball of energy that often got her into trouble—like now.

  “I was paying attention,” I said. “Most people know better than to pinch someone’s ass!”

  She shrugged. “Not me. When I see a fine ass, I just have to give it a good squeeze to test the firmness.”

  “You’re awful.”

  She pouted her lips. “Oui, I am.”

  “You’re not French.”

  She winked. “Last night I was,” she said with a giggle.

  I rolled my eyes. “You are a very bad influence. Someone needs to lock you up.”

  “Then the world would be deprived of me, and trust me, I know a few men that would be very sad about that,” she said, still grinning.

  “Have you heard what the event is for tonight?” I asked, continuing on my walk to work.

  She fell in step beside me. “Nope, but we’re booked through Wednesday, and there is some swanky benefit happening this weekend. Hopefully, it’s being put on by someone other than a traditional Greek man. I hate that they don’t tip us.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Tips are good, but you know they told us when we got hired that they frown upon us taking tips.”

  “Too bad,” she said. “I like tips, and men like to give me tips. Who am I to make someone unhappy?”

  “Don’t you dare get me in trouble,” I warned. “Take the tips and be humble. Don’t go flaunting it to everyone.”

  “Hey,
if you’ve got it, flaunt it,” she joked, quoting one of her favorite old movies.

  “You certainly flaunt it,” I said dryly. “Maybe you should try tucking some things away, mainly those things popping out of your blouse.”

  “Nope, they’re my best asset,” she said with a wink.

  “Speaking of your assets, how was your date Saturday?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “He was all right. He took me on his yacht, and we sailed around. Blah, blah, blah.”

  I shook my head. “Only you would think that was boring.”

  “He was boring. No fire. No passion. And he was all about him, if you know what I mean.” She giggled.

  I groaned. “You are seriously too much.”

  We went around the large building. Windows covered the front, and the red velvet ropes were already set up, guiding the guests to the main entrance. I used to wonder what it would be like to be one of the ladies that climbed out of the limousines and walked the red carpet that was usually rolled out.

  The event center held everything from family parties to high-end galas. I had no idea what was on the books for tonight. We got our schedules, and we showed up. It was always the same uniform: black pants, white shirts, and our hair pulled back.