Page 10 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
Her breathing becomes even, and her arms fall to her sides. It looks like she’s finally stopped fidgeting and fallen into sleep. I smile, reaching a hand to stroke her cheek, but check my impulse instead. And then, to my amusement, she pouts and mumbles something indistinguishable. “Ah..es, Ahles.” It takes me a moment to realize she’s calling my name.
“Yes? Vivian? Are you awake?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer me, though, and continues to mumble. She even smiles a bit. “Mmm. Don’t stop.”
Holy Moses. What’s she dreaming about? Am I in her dream? What are we doing?
I’m dying to know, but she stops talking and becomes quiet.
“We’re about to land, sir,” Kim says to me. “Would you like to use the lavatory?”
“Thanks, I don’t need to,” I say. “But let me wake Vivian.”
Chapter 5
Vivian
The jet hovers over a mountain area and lands at a private airport in Santa Barbara.
After I unbuckle my seatbelt, Alex helps me out of my seat. As we say goodbye to Kim and the pilot, a Bentley stops before us, and a middle-aged gentleman comes out. “Welcome home, Alex!”
“Hi, Jack!” Alex hugs him and introduces me to the family butler.
My mouth constantly falls open after we enter a residential area in the mountains. Alex told me a bit about his parents without many details about the place they lived. But my dad had been here and mentioned the place a few times, saying the Montecito home was like a mountain resort.
Even so, I’ve anticipated dry, desert hills in California, but the lush green grass and dense forests in front of me prove me wrong. There are only a few mansions scattering on hill tops, with vast distances between them. Through the tree branches, I get glimpses of modern luxury homes and their turquoise-like swimming pools.
Jack stops the car in front of a Mediterranean-style mansion the size of a small hotel with bright red-tiled roofs and dazzling white walls. Besides a pool, there’s a lawn—wait, a golf course, next to it. The moment I step out of the car and onto the house's driveway, I see the strip of Pacific Ocean beyond the cypresses that line the property.
“Wow!” I exclaim after deeply inhaling the fresh mountain air. “You grew up here, Alex? This is paradise.”
Alex chuckles. “It is nice.”
Nice? What’s he talking about? Is he being smug? This place is better than most of the vacation spots I’ve been to.
I recall the Andersons owned a ranch resort in the area, and Alex was expected to inherit the family business, but he left home after college and built his own empire instead. At the moment, I thought his action was insane. Why would anyone give up such a vast, beautiful estate, blessed with sunshine nearly year-round, for a confined urban life?
“Don’t you miss it?”
“I do, especially the sunshine,” he says as he looks out of the window, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “I’m glad to be home.”
He wraps his arm around my waist as we walk across the vast lawn toward the front entrance of the house. I keep glancing around at the magnificent estate, gasping at everything on our way, including the marble statue fountain and the rose garden. The veranda is spacious, with chiseled pillars and arches.
My heart pounds frantically as the moment of serious pretending is about to begin, and I clutch Alex’s hand involuntarily.
“Are you nervous?” he asks me.
I nod. “A little.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “My parents are nice.”
That does little to calm me. I feel worse lying to nice people.
The door opens before we get to it, distracting my attention.
A tall gentleman with silver hair steps out of the house, followed by an elegant lady with short blonde hair. They smile the moment they see us. “Alex!”
“Mom! Dad!” Alex says to his parents.
