One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 3

I pushed open the glass doors of my office at HomeTech. The hiss of the heater was a welcome relief from the bitter November wind outside. It was barely ten in the morning, and I was already in a foul mood. Living in the Pacific Northwest was not for the faint of heart. My hair was still wet from my shower with no chance to dry thanks to the downpour outside.

I yanked off my coat and shook it out, droplets spraying onto the polished floor. I barely looked at the other people in the office. I was grumpy, not in the mood for cheery greetings or any of that shit.

I sat down at my desk and took a long drink of coffee. It was taking too long to wake me up. When would scientists figure out how to inject it straight into my veins?

Maybe I could invest in the research and development of something like that. I had the funds for it. Then again, maybe it was just the desperate thought of a sleep-deprived brain. I took another swig of coffee, hoping to find clarity at the bottom of the cup.

I thought the early morning workout would get my juices flowing, but that proved to be failing miserably.

“Good morning.” Wilder, my twin brother, strode in with Christa, his wife, right behind him. She was triumphantly holding a brown bag that smelled like heaven.

“That depends on what’s in the bag,” I said grouchily.

“Did his highness not sleep well?” Wilder teased, plopping himself into the chair across from my desk without an invitation.

“I would throw this coffee in your face but I need the caffeine too much,” I grumbled, glaring at him. He just laughed, knowing I didn’t mean it.

Christa set the bag on my desk, ignoring my foul mood. “Pastries will help,” she announced with a bright smile.

I imagined it was easy to be cheery when you didn’t have the weight of a huge product launch on your shoulders. I had the board on my ass. They had faith in my software but everyone got jumpy as we neared the release date.

I wasn’t immune either. Falling asleep was a struggle these days. When I finally conked out from sheer exhaustion, I dreamed about the lack of an effective marketing plan for our product, Hanna. We were so close. I just had to find a way to show people they wanted the AI.

“Thought you could use some carbs,” Christa said.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “What I need is a marketing miracle, but thanks. Carbs make everything better. I’ll just throw in an extra workout later.”

Christa arched an eyebrow at me as she pulled out a chocolate croissant and handed it over. “How’s it going with the public response to Hanna? Still skeptical?”

“Skeptical would be putting it kindly,” I said, tearing off a piece of the croissant. “The prototypes worked great during the trial phase, but people don’t trust the technology. They hear ‘AI in your home,’ and their minds jump straight to horror movies.”

Wilder laughed. “Didn’t help that Jerrod compared her to ‘a helpful ghost living in the walls’ during that interview last month.”

“Don’t remind me.” I groaned before popping a piece of the croissant into my mouth. “I’m dealing with decades of Hollywood fearmongering. People think Hanna is going to turn into Skynet and terminators. The board wants a new face behind the product, someone they think the public will trust.”

Christa folded her arms, eyeing me thoughtfully. “And they don’t trust you? With that adorable face?”

“Right?” I threw my hands up. “But people are saying I look too polished. Like I’m all about how I look and who I show up with on my arm at parties.”

“You kind of have a supervillain vibe with those suits of yours,” Wilder said with a smirk. “Or a Bond villain at least.”

“Thank you,” I said, deadpan. “But I’m not about to let them focus group my clothes. I like how I dress. I don’t need a more casual style. Besides, with these bags under my eyes, there’s nothing polished about me.”

Christa leaned forward, her expression serious. I had a feeling I was about to get some of Christa’s tough love. “Actually, Fox, a fresh perspective might be exactly what you need. They see you as a solo bachelor but that look isn’t working for this kind of product. You’re pitching a robot that’s supposed to make people’s homes safer and more efficient, but they can’t picture you using it because they can’t picture you living a normal, relatable life. You’re a playboy billionaire. Your reputation is, uh, tainted. Tarnished.”

“You’re a man whore, dude,” Wilder said bluntly.

“That’s not helping,” Christa said. “Sure, he’s got some miles on him. Yes, he’s gone through more rubbers than a tire shop. And okay, I might have seen his phone number written on a rest-stop door off the highway.”

“Alright, I’m not that bad,” I said, chuckling and shaking my head. “I thought you were here to offer support.”

“We’re just telling it to you straight,” Wilder said. “I don’t care how you look, but that stuff matters to the public when you’re trying to sell them something.”

Christa nodded. “Customers can’t relate to your product because they can’t relate to you. You’re asking people to trust you. AI is new and people don’t know what to expect from it except what they’ve seen in the movies.”

I shrugged. “I’m relatable. I’m just a normal guy.”

Wilder laughed. “Yeah, bro. At the end of the day, you ride your private elevator up to your penthouse. You know, just like a regular guy.”

“At least consider making a few changes,” Christa said. I didn’t like the way her eyes lit up, like she had an idea she’d been sitting on, waiting for the right moment to unleash it.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” I asked warily.

“You need two things,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “One, a new marketing firm. Someone who can spin this product in a way that makes people feel safe and excited instead of nervous. They need to feel the same excitement they felt for the new iPhone.”

I scoffed. “I’m not bringing in some suit-wearing, ad-agency puppet to tell me how to market Hanna. This isn’t a beer commercial. I’m not Mad Men-ing HomeTech.”

“It’s your baby’s funeral,” she said with a shrug. “Hanna is going to crash and burn. You’re going to lose your ass. I know you’re rich enough to afford it but how many times can you lose a bajillion dollars?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to lose money. People just need to see the tech in action. I’m all about making their lives better.”

“Fine, have it your way,” she said breezily. “But that’s only part of the problem.”

“And what’s the other part?” I asked with a sigh.

“You need a partner,” she explained. “A life partner.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” I asked. “I have partners. Jerrod. The board.”

“Not that kind of partner,” Christa said. “You need to be more palatable. Like Wilder.”

I looked at my fraternal twin brother, then stared at her. “You’ve lost your mind.”

Wilder sat up and grinned. “Oh, I like this,” he said. “You know, honey, I’ve tried to set a good example but there’s just no taming this stallion.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” I shook my head. “I’m in the middle of a legit crisis right now.”

“The solo rich bachelor thing isn’t working,” Christa said gently. “You need to be less solo and more…”

“Ball and chained,” Wilder finished. He was grinning like an idiot until he looked at his wife, who was shooting him a dirty look. “Happily ball and chained, let me add.”

“Married?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Wilder said, serious again. “Find yourself a nice, wholesome wife for the public to fawn over. Someone sweet and pretty that will soften your image.”

Christa nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “I don’t know what’s in these croissants but you two sound like lunatics right now. Get married? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not saying you get married,” she said. “But it wouldn’t hurt if people thought you were engaged and on your way to being married. It’ll make you look respectable.”

“There are less drastic ways to look respectable,” I said, shaking my head firmly.

Christa didn’t back down. “I’m serious, Fox. Think about it.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, your solution is a fake fiancée?”

“Why not?” Wilder said. “It’s perfect. You get to show the public a softer side, someone who’s in it for more than just the business angle. And you’ll have a partner to show off during press events, someone who makes you look more human. Maybe you post some pictures of your lovely lady interacting with the AI. Make it look natural.”

I could feel the gears turning in my mind despite myself. It was a terrible idea but I didn’t have any better ones. And if Christa was suggesting it, she probably already had someone in mind. She always thought things through five steps ahead. And I trusted her. She was very savvy and was always honest with me.

Christa’s smile turned triumphant. “I know someone who would be perfect.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

Christa ignored me. “She’s sharp, experienced in PR, and would look fantastic in photo ops. Plus, she’s single and might be open to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“This is starting to sound like a business deal,” I said dryly.

“Everything’s a business deal, Fox,” Christa said with a wink. “You of all people should know that.”

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. “Jerrod and the board are going to laugh me out of the room if I suggest a fake engagement as a PR strategy.”

“It could work,” Wilder said.

“You married a psycho,” I said, groaning. “What kind of plan is this? A fake engagement?”

“I’m on the same page as my psycho wife,” Wilder said. “You need redemption. You need a good woman by your side.”

Christa stood up, smoothing down her skirt. “Let me worry about Jerrod. I’ll handle him. You just focus on being open-minded for once.”

Wilder got to his feet too, stretching with a big smile. “Christa is going to make this happen.”

“Wilder,” I said. “If this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming you, not your wife.”

“Dinner at our place Friday night,” he said, unbothered. “We’ll talk more then. And in the meantime, Christa will make sure you meet the woman she has in mind. No pressure, of course.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered. “I’m sure this whole thing isn’t a setup.”

Wilder grinned. “Of course not. But you’re going to want to hear her out, trust me.”

Christa was already halfway to the door when she spotted Jerrod, one of our lead developers, walking by. “Jerrod!” she called out. “Hold up, I need your help with something.”

I watched her go, feeling my stomach drop. “This is a nightmare.”

“You’ll be fine, brother. Just remember to smile and try not to look like you’re plotting world domination.”

“Thanks,” I said flatly. “It’s always a pleasure to see you guys.”

He laughed as he made his way to the door. “You love us, admit it. And you know Christa’s right. You need redemption. A good woman will help you see this project through to the end.”

I slumped back into my chair the moment they were gone, staring up at the ceiling. A fake bride? This was not the direction I’d expected my morning to take. I closed my eyes, letting the idea settle in, hating that no other solutions were presenting themselves.

Maybe they were right. Maybe I did need to change, just a little, if I wanted the world to see Hanna the way I did. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to play house, even if it was all for show.

I grabbed the croissant Christa had left behind and took a huge bite, chewing sulkily. If she was already involving Jerrod, I knew one thing for sure.

This plan, insane as it was, was already in motion. I felt like I’d just gotten on a rollercoaster and all I could do was hang on for the ride.