Faking For Mr. Pope (City Billionaires Book 1) Read online

  Faking For Mr. Pope

  A Fake Fiancee Romance

  Coco Miller

  COCO MILLER ROMANCE

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  Copyright © 2019 Coco Miller

  All rights reserved.

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  License Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

  Contents

  Books By Coco

  Introduction

  Prologue

  1. Keisha

  2. Keisha

  3. Nicholas

  4. Keisha

  5. Nicholas

  6. Keisha

  7. Nicholas

  8. Keisha

  9. Nicholas

  10. Keisha

  11. Nicholas

  12. Keisha

  13. Nicholas

  14. Keisha

  15. Nicholas

  16. Keisha

  Epilogue

  Also by Coco Miller

  Books By Coco

  Big City Billionaires

  Faking For Mr. Pope

  Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn

  Pretending for Mr. Parker

  Red Bratva Billionaires

  MAXIM

  SERGEI

  VIKTOR

  The Overwatch Division

  WYATT

  ASA

  CESAR

  Andolini Crime Family

  CARMINE

  GIOVANNI

  UMBERTO

  Introduction

  It was just supposed to be one night.

  A little flirting.

  A fake relationship.

  How did it all go so wrong?

  Billionaire, Nicholas Pope, has a big problem. He may be wealthy, and one of the most eligible bachelors in the city, but he has a clingy ex-girlfriend who's sabotaging his business and not ready to let go. His solution? To hatch a plan to get rid of her for good using his drop dead gorgeous assistant, Keisha Turner– posing as his fiancee.

  Keisha has recently moved to the city to rebuild her life. In her past are secrets and scars that she needs to heal from, but the city is eating her alive. She's broke and hungry and needs this new job to work. Little did she know how fast and how hard she'd fall for her new boss. So hard that she agreed to this crazy plan of his. A plan that seems to be doomed from the start.

  Faking For Mr. Pope is a steamy standalone, fake fiancee romance, with no cheating and a HEA. Be advised that it may be a little too sexy for readers under 18.

  Big City Billionaires Book One

  Prologue

  Keisha

  Do you ever dream at night? They say dreams happen in the REM stage of sleeping. For me though, I feel like they happen all day long. Well, they used to.

  I used to dream big. I’d have those dreams where I was going to be somebody. Where I would make something of myself. I’m not talking about becoming rich and famous or anything like that. Well, maybe the rich part would be nice. Hell, at this point I would take well-off. I would even take being considered poor. At least poor people have some money. Me, I have none.

  I think once I left home, I gave up all the dreaming. I gave up all the aspirations of living a good life, because things don’t always work out most times for me. It isn’t easy being broke. It’s almost laughable at how broke I truly am.

  Some girls tell me to sell my body, and sometimes I truly think about doing just that, but I still like to hold onto the notion that I’m a good person. That I have a sense of self-worth. That maybe if I hold out long enough, before selling my soul to the devil, things might eventually turn around for me. Eventually. Someday. One day. But, so far, it hasn’t happened quite like that.

  The other part of me, the sensible part tells me I need to work harder, save more, buckle down; and believe me, I’ve buckled down plenty. I never buy anything that isn’t a necessity. Never.

  And I never indulge in the sweeter things in life. I barely eat, which is probably how I keep my girlish figure. I never buy clothes that aren’t from the thrift store or consignment shops. The Goodwill and I are best friends. And I usually do all of my shopping at the dollar store. It’s a sad life. It really is. But, it’s my life. The only one I’ve got. So I make the best of it.

  Ever have a choice to make and you don’t know which one to make? Like saying yes could ruin everything, and saying no could ruin things even more?

  I’m sure you’ve felt this way a time or two.

  Sometimes life is all about making choices. About living in that one moment that can change your life for the better or for the worse. We’ve all had those moments before, haven’t we? The ones we call the life changer? The ones we make a snap decision that sets us on a different course. The ones that make every moment before it minuscule in comparison. You know what I’m talking about, right?

  I’ve had two of those moments in my life.

  Once when I left home and never looked back, and another when I went to work for Mr. Pope.

  My home life was definitely something less to be desired. A mother who just didn’t care, a father who was worse than that, and no siblings to look after me to teach me the ways of the world where my parents had failed to.

  School was a joke. When you have no money the popularity factor diminishes (at least in my town), and no one will be your friend. I had one boyfriend after school, but I think he used me for a place to stay, and since the place I was living at the time was awful, he dumped me.

  Now, Mr. Pope was anything but ordinary. He had a smile that could melt your panties, and his eyes almost felt like they stared right through you. He was definitely from an entirely different gene pool from any other man before. Words like: handsome, gorgeous, mother-fucking-HOT, didn’t do him justice. The man was a legend in his own right. Like it’s just not fair to other men to look so good. But, he did. And he knew it. And because he had everything going for him in the looks department, he was failing miserably in the personality department. Frankly saying– he was a Grade-A asshole. I’d never met anyone so fierce and intimidating before in all my life.

  BUT it relieved me when I finally got the job working for him.

  Like I said, sometimes you don’t know where your life is even going. Sometimes you want to give up, scream, shout, and wish all the madness away. Other times you jump for joy at the little things, hoping it will make everything better. But in my own experience, it never does. Nothing ever gets better.

  I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but if you’d had the life I’ve had, you’d be down too. But I’m going to change everything around, just you wait and see, because for me, I will get my golden ticket, and I will make a name for myself in this world. Doing what? I just don’t know.

  Life hasn’t spit me out just yet, there’s still a few tricks left up my sleeves.

  Take for example that I couldn’t find a job to save my life. Having no experience. No future. No nothing. I was surely headed to a life as a stripper, or even worse a prostitute. But, this isn’t one of those kinds of stories. No, this is a happy one.

  It’s not about my time living on the streets, or about some of the things I’ve had to do just so
I could have a warm meal at night. No, this is about the time I said yes to my boss when he asked me to pretend to be his fiancee.

  And how everything escalated from there.

  1

  Keisha

  The thing about being a millennial isn’t about what shoes you wear or what brand of coffee you drink, although the coffee is an important part of it. No, it’s about not knowing what you want out of life. It’s about not being secure in your place in this world, and right now I’m so very insecure. I’m so unsure about what I want.

  People always ask in grade school, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ My answer, alive, hoping the streets don’t swallow me whole. But as far as career choices, I had nothing. Nada. Zilch. There wasn’t anything I was interested in doing that I could even find a job for. Sure, working at a hospital might be fun, but I don’t have the money for a million years of college to get a degree like that.

  “Ma’am, please, I have all the right credentials. I just need the job.”

  I’m once again at another temp agency. It’s been like this for six months. One job to the next. I can’t keep something longer than three weeks it seems, and it’s not because of me I hope. Maybe it’s because of the tough economy, the market, or perhaps for some employers it’s the color of my skin. Or maybe it could very well boil down to simple economics. It’s a bad time to be a working-class citizen in today’s world. It just is.

  Sure, I could have went to college had I been able to get a scholarship, but those were far and few between for someone like me. My grades were mediocre at best, and my mother would have never been able to foot the tuition bill. And my father? Well that’s another story entirely. So I made the only decision I could. I left home, never looked back, and well– I went out to find a job.

  I glance around the tiny office, small with papers stacked on old filing cabinets. The one fluorescent bulb above me flickers with it’s death glare, laughing at my predicament. I wish I could get this over with.

  It’s stuffy in here. And hot.

  I try to straighten my posture in my seat, and tug at my blouse hoping to let a little air circulate against my heated body. No air.

  I’m wearing my one and only business attire pant suit. It was a gift from an ex-boyfriend for landing my first job. And well, the day I got let go, he let me go as well. Bastard.

  Ever since then it’s been one long, downward spiral. I can’t help it if I’m broke. It’s not like I’m lazy about it. I don’t overspend, and the money I do manage to get– I save. But there’s just been too many rainy days lately, and my savings has become nonexistent.

  When will life ever get any better? Because as much as things always seem to go wrong, there has to be a light at the end of this forever long tunnel. Right?

  “I’m sorry. You just don’t have any work experience.” Ms. Giles, the lady interviewing me for the agency says.

  Her nose twists in disgust. Her red hair is twisted into a tight bun at the top of her head with flyaways coming out in every direction. I think if you look close enough there might even be a hidden No. 2 yellow pencil sticking out behind her ear. She looks like I feel...overstressed.

  “Well, I might be stating the obvious here, but it’s because no one will hire me that I don’t have the experience you’re looking for. How am I supposed to have work experience if no one will give me a job?”

  I want to add a, duh, after what I’ve just said. It’s like the catch-22 of the ages. No one will hire you without experience, but you can’t get any experience without a job.

  Mrs. Giles shuffles a few papers, and then removes her glasses as she stares at me. She opens her mouth to speak and then slams it back shut.

  “Wait, is there a job?” I ask somewhat hopeful.

  “Well, sort of.” She slams the piece of paper in her hand down on the desk. “No, it’s not a good fit.”

  “Whatever it is, I can do it.” I’m desperate and I no longer care if it’s seeping through my pores and coming out through my words. “I need a job. Whatever it is.” And that’s the god’s honest truth.

  She leans in closer and takes her glasses off. “I can’t keep anyone in this position long enough to finish the job. Most temps quit on the first day.”

  Little does she know that most applicants are probably not as desperate as me.

  “What’s the job?” I ask.

  At this point I’ll clean up cow manure. I don’t care. I only have a few days before Gino kicks me out for not having the rent for two months in a row. I need to have a roof over my head.

  “It’s a six week gig working as an assistant.”

  I lean closer, reaching my hand out to look at the paper on the desk. “Sounds easy enough.”

  She laughs, which it’s actually more like a snort. “It’s not. The job is working for the legendary Mr. Pope.”

  Legendary?

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  She gives me a stare like I missed the answer to a very important test question. “Nicholas Pope? Pope Enterprises?”

  I shake my head, still unsure of who he is. “No.”

  “He can be very dif... let’s say he likes things a certain way.”

  Difficult. Her first word choice is most likely correct, but I’m not dissuaded.

  “I can do things the way he likes.” I grab her hand on the desk. “Listen, I’m a hard worker. I’ll make it work. I won’t let him get to me like all the others.”

  I work hard.

  She raises her brow. “You’re hired.”

  And I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve got a job. I’ll be able to make the rent. I mean, how difficult can this guy Pope guy really be?

  2

  Keisha

  “Get me my coffee...now,” Mr. Pope’s voice screams through the intercom. His venom laced demand nearly jostles me from my desk.

  It’s been a week, and ‘likes things a certain way’ is code for biggest asshole to ever walk the face of the earth. I swear that’s what the plaque on his intimidating wood office door should read. He’s already made three girls cry today and one of them was me.

  He’s ruthless. He’s handsome. And he’s just plain evil. But, I’ve lasted a week now, and I’m happy to say, I’ve paid Gino this morning with the money I owed him for back rent.

  When I was first hired, Frederick in human resources was the first person to talk to me about the ins and outs of the job. I was feeling ballsy when he was explaining all the particulars of Mr. Pope, and everything he expects, and so I took a chance and asked him for an advance. He laughed a big belly laugh and told me that it was unprecedented, but then in the end– he agreed.

  I think it was mainly because they can’t keep someone in this position long enough and that’s fine by me. I needed the money. Although looking back now, I don’t know if it was even worth it because this man, Mr. Nicholas Pope, is unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

  He’s sexy as hell, and I think he knows it. In fact, I think he takes great pride in the fact he can bat his eyes and get a whole boardroom to fall at his feet, even the men in the room fall to his charms. He’s got that much power and charisma at his fingertips.

  He has it all.

  Great car, actually he has three. All sports cars. His penthouse apartment sits in the prime real estate in upper Manhattan, and he hardly is ever there. The other thing I’ve noticed since working here is that he has a different blonde on his arm every night. So he definitely has a preference. I’m definitely not blonde, so I’m clearly not his type. Ha. As if he would ever even look in my direction. He won’t even look at me when he’s barking orders in my ear.

  That’s fine though. I’m only here long enough to collect a paycheck, and when the time runs out, I’ll be out of here as quickly as possible. I know once I have this company down as experience, that I’ll be able to land many more jobs. I can feel it.

  Like Mrs. Giles said, this isn’t just any job, and this isn’t just any company and she was right. Fourteen girls before me
couldn't please Mr. Pope long enough to collect a paycheck. So, there’s that.

  I think that should be front and center on my resume. Kept a job for a difficult egomaniac when fourteen other qualified ladies couldn’t. Can we say hired?

  I think after this job I might move away from the temp agency. I think with Pope Enterprises under my belt I can move onto bigger, better things. Hopefully.

  I fetch Mr. Pope his coffee, careful to put two creamers, one not real sugar but fake sugar, and a cinnamon stick into his mug. I bring it into his office, careful not to look at the two gentlemen he’s addressing in his office.

  “I’m not bending down on this proposal and you can tell Roberta that,” he says to them, speaking with great force. I dare not interrupt him yet, so I continue to stand by the door holding his coffee.

  “They either accept or don’t,” he says matter of factly.

  I imagine him proposing to a woman like this. Him on one knee, looking up into some random blonde’s bimbo eyes and telling her to simply accept it or not.

  I laugh a little, but then my eyes go wide once I realize that I actually did that out loud.

  “I’m sorry is there something funny?” he asks me.