The Boss's Fake Fiancee Read Free Page B

up a virtual hospital room at his house, including round the clock care and a variety of machines to monitor every breath, heartbeat, and vital sign. The doctor said her condition was very serious, and she needed a lot of rest and quiet. While they had put her on a serious antibiotic, they couldn’t be sure she would pull through.
    Garth refused to consider that an option.
    “Is everything all right?” he asked, a faint echo of nervousness curling in his stomach.
    “I think so. She was smiling when I saw her.” Jessalyn cocked her head at him. “Remember I’m leaving early today. Should I make something for you to heat up for dinner?”
    Garth nodded. “Please. I have a conference call with Beijing at nine. I’ll eat in my study.”
    “How about beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes?” She phrased it as a question, but it was really more of a statement. Or rather, a dare.
    Garth winced. “Could you make a salad?” Jessalyn was obsessed with feeding him rich, heavy meals. Having Jess as a housekeeper was a little like having a second grandmother—in a pierced, tattooed body.
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can make a Caesar.”
    Garth sighed. “Dressing on the side?”
    Jessalyn sniffed loudly. “Fine. But I’m tossing in the bacon bits.”
    “Of course you are.”
    “Some reporters came to the gate last night,” Jessalyn said. “I told them if they didn’t get two hundred feet back, I would let out the dogs. And I’d bring my pepper spray. That seemed to convince them.”
    “Jess, you are a marvel,” Garth said.
    “Just earning my bonus.”
    He left Jessalyn and walked to the rear of the house, to a large bedroom suite he’d remodeled years before to accommodate a wheelchair, should his grandmother someday need it. So far, she didn’t. Or hadn’t. She’d been using one since she came home from the hospital, because the illness had left her so weak and unstable.
    He knocked lightly on the door, and then headed in when he heard a chipper voice call out, “Come in!”
    Looking more alert and energetic than she had for weeks, Garth’s tiny, frail grandmother was sitting up in bed, cheeks rosy, a smile splitting her face. Her snowy-white hair was wrapped in bright blue curlers and covered with a lavender chiffon scarf. She clutched a newspaper in one hand.
    “Is it true?” she demanded, as soon as he walked through the door. She clasped the paper to her chest and smiled even wider. “Oh, please tell me it’s true!”
    “What? Did they find the cure for cancer? Is Princess what’s-her-name pregnant?”
    She extended the paper toward him, tapping a picture. “No, no, don’t be silly. Look for yourself. On page seventeen.”
    Garth raised a skeptical brow. “Is that the New York Star Herald ? How many times have I told you to stop reading that tabloid, Nan? It doesn’t actually contain news, you know. They make those stories up. Like the one about the aliens.”
    Nan pouted. “That could have happened. The government covers up all sorts of things.”
    “There are no aliens living in West Virginia.”
    “I hope not,” she said fervently.
    “And that time they said zombie elephants had been discovered at the Central Park Zoo?”
    “Those creatures never move much,” Nan said. “Haven’t you always wondered about them?”
    Garth masked a smile. Nan had always been gullible—it came with her trusting nature.
    “I can’t wait to see this,” he said, taking the paper with a shake of his head.
    As he focused on the picture, every muscle in his body tightened. The picture Nana had pointed to so eagerly was of him, opening the car door for Melissa the night before. And the headline above screamed, “Garth Solen’s Mystery Fiancée—Revealed!”
    A wave of nausea passed over him. Quickly, he scanned the article. “Billionaire Garth Solen, notorious for discreet one-night stands and a stubborn refusal to settle down, is finally ready to take a bride. Sources close to the couple