My Fake Forbidden Boyfriend (Heartbreakers Book 1) Read online

  My Fake Forbidden Boyfriend

  Heartbreakers #1

  Lindsey Hart

  CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  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

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the publisher. While all attempts and efforts have been made to verify the information held within this publication, neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, omissions, or opposing interpretations of the content herein. The book is for entertainment purposes only. The views expressed are those of the author alone and should not be taken as expert instruction or commands.

  Copyright © Passion House Publishing Ltd 2020

  All rights reserved.

  Graphics used inside the book are from pngtree and pixabay.

  Cover made by Cosmic Letterz.

  You can contact the team at [email protected].

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Revenge is a dish best served cold or smoking hot if it's in the form of Adrian Builder, America's No.1 top model!

  I can already see it… the headlines for tomorrow's tabloids.

  Female CEO of world-famous clothing line gets dumped for a model at her own label.

  Damn it.

  If only there was a way to exact revenge on my slimeball of an ex,

  And also save my reputation at the same time.

  Oh, wait…maybe there is.

  What if I can change the headlines?

  Female CEO of world-famous clothing line dumps her ex for America's Most Sexy Heartbreaker.

  There is only one problem though.

  How do I get America's Most Sexy Heartbreaker to fake it with me?

  Especially when he is on a huge spree turning down all deals from my company.

  The Jerk.

  But maybe the nth time is the charm… yeah, right.

  Honestly, I fully expected him to refuse this time as well…

  Until he actually signed on the dotted lines.

  Seems like he is interested in our contract… if there is me thrown into the equation.

  Not that anything will happen with the smartass.

  It's all pretend.

  And access to my heart is Forbidden.

  No way am I letting another man in, especially one who could make panties burst with just a glimpse of his nuclear smile.

  But when faking it gets a little too real…

  Can I stop myself from falling for the big bad wolf of the fashion industry?

  CHAPTER 1

  Rin

  “Are you crazy? You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve finally lost your mind. Straight into the trash can with your common sense. Totally. Absolutely. Bat shit crazy.”

  “Alright, I get it.” I roll my eyes so hard they nearly drop out of the sockets and fall to the floor.

  I’m good at it, but no one beats Arabella in an argument. Also known as Impossibella by all her close friends, since once she sets her mind on something, there is no way in hell to sway her from it. She hates her name and goes by Aria to everyone she actually likes. Using her full name is like a big eff you straight to her face. We literally cringe whenever we hear someone do it because the Impossibella monster in her always comes out.

  And Aria is currently looking at me, her sky-blue eyes bulging out of her perfect face. Everything about Aria is perfection. She’s a fifteen on a rating list of ten. Tall in a way that makes people take notice, proportioned to make men salivate. In short, a goddess.

  Aria literally stamps her foot, which somehow, though she’s wearing sky-high fuchsia pink pumps, still echoes through her living room. I wince when her heel comes down, but by some miracle, the crazy expensive, dark brown hardwood floor remains unscathed.

  “Fine, Rin. If you want to end up unidentified in some alley somewhere, then do it!”

  “Why would I be unidentified?”

  “I think she’s trying to say that jogging by yourself is really dangerous.” Our other sister from another mister, Cassie, clears her throat. She might be the exact opposite of Aria in just about every way—darker where Aria is fair, but she’s also very gorgeous. Like off the charts, immeasurably beautiful.

  “Thank you!” Aria throws up her hands. She flicks her long blonde hair—done in wavy curls—over one slender shoulder. It’s seven in the evening, and as per usual, Aria looks like she’s ready to roll out to the club for the evening, even though she’s just kicking back and having wine with her besties. We have designated bestie nights. It’s our thing. Tuesdays and Thursdays are all ours, no matter how busy we are with our careers and relationships.

  Aria sits down on her leather sectional with a huff. She kicks off her heels and wraps her long, slender legs underneath her matching fuchsia dress. Cassie joins her a second later. She plops down, crossing her denim-clad legs in a much more dignified position. Cassie is naturally shy, whereas Aria is just about as outgoing as it gets. I honestly don’t know how we’re best friends seeing as we’re all so different from each other, but then again, maybe that’s what makes it work.

  Best bitches for life. That’s us. We have been since we were twelve, back when we all ended up at the same boarding school from hell. Okay, it was just some all-girls thing. It wasn’t half bad in hindsight, but at the time, we thought we’d been sent to the far reaches of the fiery netherworld.

  “It’s dangerous, alright,” Aria keeps at it. She thrusts out a hand and inspects her flawlessly manicured nails. She always goes for something long and sparkly, and for the life of me, I don’t know how she operates with those bad boys on the end of her fingers. “You could be mugged or stabbed or murdered or worse!”

  “What’s worse than being murdered?” Cassie asks.

  She wrinkles her nose, the slight smattering of freckles there bunching up. She has jet black hair, so long that it actually looks like a curtain behind her. Today, she has it done in a fishtail braid. She constantly bemoans the fact that having hair so dark really ruins the overall effect of any hairstyle, but she would never change it to another color. Cassie actually hates anything finicky. She hardly wears any makeup—not that she needs it. She has that creamy, flawless kind of skin that most women try and look for at the bottom of a foundation bottle, plus the longest, thickest eyelashes on the planet, velvet brown eyes, and full coral lips. Yeah. She doesn’t need any enhancement.

  “I hope you’re packing to shoot,” Aria tells me, ignoring Cassie’s comment.

  “Packing? Like… are you kidding me? I don’t even know how to use a gun.” I fold my arms over my chest and stare at my friends, aghast.

  “Not that kind of packing. Good lord. I know you don’t know how to use a gun. You’d be ju
st as likely to shoot your foot off than scare your attacker with it, even if the damn thing wasn’t loaded.”

  “How the heck would you actually shoot someone with a gun that wasn’t loaded?” Cassie sounds bored now. She’s the voice of reason to Aria’s wild embellishments. If they were food, they’d be like… a fine wine with a good cheese pairing. A burger with pickles. Ice cream with caramel sauce. You get it.

  “I don’t know. But if there was a way to do it, she’d find it.” Aria rolls her eyes. I don’t even take offense. At this point, fifteen years after I first met Arabella Watson, I’m over taking offense to anything she might say. I know she loves me. If someone asked, she’d probably cut off one of her toes for me. Okay, maybe not that, but if the option was my life or surgical removal of her toe, I know she’d tell the doctors to scrub in. “Pepper spray.” Aria draws out the words. “I’m talking about shooting pepper spray.”

  Realizing that I’m standing in the middle of Aria’s luxurious living room, I plop down across from the sectional in an upholstered pink chair that is about as comfortable as sitting on a sack of angry porcupines. I literally have to shift the second I sit down, as something stabs me in the right butt cheek.

  “You guys are the worst,” I fake groan. “Remind me why we’re friends again.”

  “Because I recommended that amazing aesthetician? She works wonders with wax…”

  “Because we buy all your clothes and always have!” Cassie, as usual, is so much more rational.

  “But really,” Aria continued. “Is it not mostly because we’ve known each other since the god-awful boarding school our parents shipped us off to because they couldn’t stand us or didn’t want us to get pregnant at sixteen… or they might have just wanted to hump every surface of the house, and we cramped their style.”

  “Hey,” Cassie protested. “Just because my mom got remarried didn’t mean she shipped me off for that purpose. She and Bill were really busy getting their grocery store off the ground. They just wanted me to get the best education possible. I wasn’t forced to go. I actually kind of agreed to it. And… and Lucas went away to school as well.”

  “Lucas went away to college,” Aria corrects. Her voice is funny. I think Cassie and I both privately know that Aria has a huge crush on Cassie’s stepbrother. He just happens to be six years older than us, though, and he never gave Aria the time of day.

  “I don’t want to think about our parents having relations,” I said, wanting to move the conversation away from Lucas, for Aria’s sake. “And mine were divorced by then, so there was no humping involved.”

  I rake a hand through my hair. It’s not black or blonde or something as defined as that. It’s like this weird mix of light brown shot through with red. It sounds kind of nice, but trust me, it could be better. I’ve grown it out past my shoulders, but it’s never going to be flowy like Aria’s or thick and lush like Cassie’s.

  “Okay, what I should have said was that our parents were too busy for us, which could have been a code for the fact that my dad wanted to date everything with a vagina, and my mom wanted to screw all the pool boys, from bell boys, bartenders, front desk clerks to anyone under the age of thirty who came into the hotel, all while being married to each other.” Aria says it with a smile, but because I know her well, I can read the pain in her eyes. Her parents, crazily enough, are still not divorced. I have no idea why. They have a common house, but I don’t think they live there much. And they probably curse whenever they actually run into each other too.

  Aria’s family owns a chain of hotels. A big one. They’re obscenely rich. Aria has done pretty much all she could to avoid the hotels and her parents, but I think she does care a little, somewhere deep down in that heart of hers which she likes to pretend is so hard.

  My parents were only slightly better than Aria’s. At least they got a divorce, putting an end to their misery. I remember, before it happened, when I was ten, things were really strained. I know that my mom married my dad because he had money. Like, a lot of money. She was gorgeous. Yet another one of those fifteens on the ten scale. She wasn’t ever overly nice, at least not that I know of, so I guess that’s not saying much for my dad on the smarts side of things. He kind of got suckered in. She used him for his money, launched her own fashion career, and when she soared straight to the top, she divorced him and still took half of everything. A few years after that, since neither of them was ever around, and I constantly complained about having nannies, my mom packed me off to boarding school.

  At least when I was there, I didn’t have to hear her go on about things I was never overly interested in. Dresses and clothes, the kind of things no one would ever wear anywhere but down a runway for three and a half seconds. The kind of fashion my mom constantly liked to point out that I was too big-boned to wear. Yeah. She never told me to eat a salad. That wasn’t her style. She was more the type to tell me that in life, a woman has to choose between her figure and food. She literally started giving me the starving myself talks when I was nine years old.

  Overall, I’m glad I got sent to boarding school. My mom was about as loving as a pack of wolves. Not the cool kind that finds a baby in the woods and raises it as their own either. She was more like the kind that takes down the weakest member of their own pack and devours the carcass when there is plenty of other food. My dad…well, he was just pretty clueless about everything. I actually kind of felt bad for him. I still do. I see him a couple of times a year, for holidays and stuff, even though he still lives in Miami. We don’t have much of a relationship, but then again, we never did.

  “Did you ever book that appointment?” Aria asks, breaking me out of my shitty reminiscing.

  “No.” I shake my head, knowing full well that I’m about to receive one of her famous disappointed looks. I think Aria actually got it from her mom, but I would never say that. On her, it’s kind of cute. On Damina Watson, it was anything but.

  “You have to!” Aria pegs me with said look. Her naturally pink, full lips form into a perfect pout. Aria doesn’t look like a model. She’s too beautiful even for that. She’d break camera lenses all over the world if anyone even tried to photograph her. She’s like an exotic flower.

  “What would be the point now?”

  “The point?” Aria gapes at me. “The point is that you should do it just for you! If you want to do something for yourself, don’t take up jogging. Waxing your va-jay-jay isn’t going to get you mugged or murdered.”

  “Thanks. Although, I think some might consider it murder. Ripping hairs off your who-ha isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I think I’d rather be held at knifepoint.”

  “It’s really not that bad,” Cassie pitches in. She stares at me with a slightly apologetic lift of her right brow, which just happens to be perfectly manicured. I know Cassie uses the same waxing place that Aria does. They’re both kind of free and overly comfortable with their bodies, so I’ve seen things. Yeah. Not gross things. Not like that. Jesus. Just like…towels being whipped off after a morning shower or full-on changes of clothes when I’m standing right there. We’re practically sisters. I’m okay with that, even if you’d never catch me dropping a towel or rushing into a different outfit.

  “Brad is dating Rachel Ford Linklater.” I literally don’t know why I said that. I watch my friends’ jaws drop in unison. I guess they understand my strange desire to take up jogging now. To take up anything. Something to distract me.

  “So, that’s why you’re taking up running? Because your ex dumped you for some size zero skinny bitch with no brains?”

  I literally feel my forehead wrinkle, which my mother would have been aghast at. She always told me to keep a neutral expression, since frowning or smiling leaves lasting wrinkles.

  “She might be a size zero or whatever, but she’s actually pretty smart. And nice. It just looks shitty because she’s a model. For my own company. I can see the headlines already. President of world-famous clothing line gets dumped for a model at her own label
. They never word that kind of thing right. God. I’m going to have to avoid every single supermarket for the next six months.”

  “You can’t outrun that,” Aria says pointedly. Sometimes, I hate that she’s so spot on about everything. She’s very blunt, which I’ve learned to love, but sometimes…yeah. Just yeah.

  “Fuck him,” Cassie cuts in. She’s not normally vulgar. In fact, she never swears, so I know shit is getting real. “He was just using you for your money and your connections. He’s a shitty agent.”

  “Thanks,” I groan. “That makes me feel so much better.” Before I can say anything else, Aria leans forward, lips still pursed. Her eyes are glowing, though, and nothing good ever comes when she is like that. I just know we’re about to be on the receiving end of an epic-style bad idea. Like, world-ending style. We’ve had a couple of those before, and trust me, nothing good ever came out of it.

  “Revenge!” Aria bangs her hand on the coffee table in front of her, somehow managing to spare her sparkly silver nails with the diamond-encrusted tips. “That’s what we need! A revenge plan!”

  “Oh no,” I moan. Cassie lets out a similar choked sound next to Aria.

  There’s no chance in hell that whatever Aria has in mind is going to be good.

  CHAPTER 2

  Rin

  “Want me to cut his dick off?” Aria generously offers. Her eyes are shining even bluer now. They’re so intense that I nearly laugh. “Dickless Brad has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Want me to pepper spray him?” Cassie’s plans for revenge are generally far less evil. “Or tase him, maybe?”

  “Or,” Aria chimed in, “have my contacts with the tabloids make up some heinous story about how he actually has an inverse penis?”

  “No!” I choke back a laugh. I broke up with Brad three months ago and just found out last night that he had since shacked up with said model. In all fairness, I don’t think it was to humiliate me. He’s an agent. She’s got a very amazing career ahead of her. He’s also a using, scheming bastard with enough classic good looks to fool anyone into thinking he’s a decent guy.