Outrageous Proposal (A British Bad Boy Romance) (9 page)

“Trude,” sniffled Clarice. “You’re too good to me.”

“I wasn’t just giving Harrison lip service. You deserve the best,” said Trudy. “And if this little comedy of errors with that studly British babe is what’s going to help make you happy, girl, then I support you one hundred percent. After all, like you said, that’s what we came here for, isn’t it? A little adventure? I don’t care if your adventure is the same as mine or the others, so long as you have a good time and come back to the world shining like you always have.”

Clarice kissed the top of Trudy’s hair. “Thank you, hun. This will be a lot easier to pull off with your support. We’ll just need to fill in the others or they will never forgive us.”

“They’ll never forgive us for the shopping spree we’re about to take, either. Ask me if I give a damn.”

I
t had been ten
, maybe twenty years since Harrison had felt as nervous as he did now. A schoolboy’s fear, that’s what was charging through his veins right now — a schoolboy’s fear of his imposing father arriving to scold him and tell him all the ways he has failed. It made him feel weak, insignificant, and small. It was not a feeling Harrison was accustomed to having, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Usually he dealt with it by getting drunk or getting his dick wet — or both. He didn’t have time to find someone to fuck, and meeting his father drunk would obviously make things much more difficult. But he did duck into one of the bars just off the lobby and pour himself few shots of rum to calm his nerves. It was early and the place was mostly empty, so he didn’t even feel a bit self-conscious about it.

His father’s plane had touched down at the local private airport over two hours ago, but the elder Moore had immediately gone off to attend to business on the island instead of meeting Harrison first. He owned several resorts in Bali and would never fly halfway around the world without stopping in to grace them with his presence.

The delay was a tactic Harrison recognized as a power trip, an intimidation move meant to make his own time look more important than the time of whoever he was meeting with. It was probably a subconscious, even reflexive action ground into his father’s habits from decades of dealing with the world’s most powerful and ruthless businesspeople. Yet it still stung Harrison to see those same kinds of tactics used on his own son. He had some sliver of hope, after all these years, that things could be different between them. So far, it didn’t seem that hope would be rewarded.

Familiar resentment began to bubble up in his blood like poison bile, and he immediately tried to clamp it down with some meditative thinking, a trick he had been trying to master for the last few months. He had an extraordinary scheme to pull off this week, and it wouldn’t do to have his deep-seated feelings about their relationship rear up and make things worse. He had to look respectable,
changed
. He was getting married, becoming the man his father wanted. He had to play the part down to the letter or it would never work.

Part of the bitter bile in Harrison’s mouth was certainly due to his wish that he didn’t have to play a part at all. He would rather simply not resent his father in the first place, have his father respect him for who he was and the choices he chose to make on his own, but that was an even more improbable happening than him getting engaged. His father made it clear a very long time ago that there was only one path he expected Harrison to follow, and any deviation from that would be viewed the same as failure.

For many years in his youth, Harrison had tried to have his cake and eat it too — to be the rebellious, fuck-up heir who didn’t care about his father’s boring traditions, and also to make his father proud through his personal achievements. It never worked, of course. His father never gave a damn about any accomplishments Harrison made that weren’t in service to the family or its businesses. He never encouraged any interests Harrison had in the arts or culture.

What happened with Anastasia had been the last straw, the final attempt at fitting into the world into which he had been born. But there were lots of reasons Harrison had gone before his father one day many years ago, humbly, to ask for a favor for the first time in many years.

Heartbroken, fed up of fighting his father, and utterly sick of England as a whole, Harrison told his father he would take any resort job the elder Moore would find him, as long as it was far away. It was the one and only time he could remember his father giving him what he asked for.

Harrison moved to Bali and never looked back.

With his father thousands of miles away, Harrison dove headfirst into the blissful paradise of having power, wealth, and freedom. He found he took very naturally to running the resort, a fact which surprised his father at first. But Harrison was a people person, and that was all this job was, really. Everything else was details. Harrison had everything he could ever want in Bali, and no one could make him do anything he didn’t want to do. He was in power. He was king.

And kings didn’t get their hearts broken.

Yet as he stood at the bar staring at the shot of rum in his hands, Harrison wondered what had gotten into him the other night when he had sent the email. Could it really have just been the Sambuca making him brave and stupid? He had been sloshed before and made some bad decisions —especially back in England — but this bad decision was so specific. Harrison couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was wrong with him.

Maybe some part of him wanted to grow up in the way his father always wished for him.

“Bullocks,” he muttered to himself, shaking off the thought. He tossed back the rum angrily and dropped the shot glass in the empty sink.

Both his watch and phone agreed that time was marching on, a thought that served to keep him on edge, despite the drinks. He just wanted this nightmare to be over with.

Only imagining how Clarice was making out in the boutiques brought a brief smile to his lips. She really was a remarkable woman for agreeing to this insanity. Not that she owed it to him, of course. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she had pocketed the expensive engagement ring, and simply puttered on with her lady friends, returning to the States and leaving him to face his problems alone. He would probably be tempted to do the same thing in her position.

It’s not like he hadn’t left ladies in the dust before, himself. Maybe not under stakes so high… but then, that was just his ego talking, wasn’t it?

Harrison decided the only thing to do would be to get some work done. He was far too anxious to relax and it was slowly dawning on him that he had zero control over what was happening right now. His father would show up when he wanted, like always, and then the plan could get underway. Strangely, he realized he wasn’t worried about Clarice pulling off her part, not even a little. He was far more worried he would say something himself that would ruin his well-laid plans.

Heading for his office, he felt a wave of relief when he saw Bruce, shirtless and sandy, sliding in one of the side employee entrances that connected directly to the beach. His long hair had come loose from whatever ties he had put it in, and it was soaked with sea water and glittering white sand. Bruce was glowing with the happy vibes he always got when he surfed. Harrison realized it had been weeks since he had been on the waves with him, and he felt a pang of envy.

“Hey bro!” said Bruce happily. The sandals he had been wearing dangled from one of his hands. “I was just about to give you a call and see how things are going. Is the plan working so far?”

Harrison sighed and came to a stop in front of his friend. “I suppose, it’s a bit too early to tell. I’ve got my fake wife at least.”

Bruce gave him a sad smile and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s going to work out, whatever happens.”

“You have far too much faith in the world. I blame all the pot, it’s a gateway drug to stupid optimism.”

Bruce laughed, “You love pot. And you love my stupid optimism; it’s the only thing that counters your faux-cynical British dryness.”

“Faux-cynical? Clearly I haven’t been getting my honest message across to you all these years. No Englishman has ever faked his cynicism.”

“Did your pops’ flight make it in okay?”

“Yes, they landed a few hours ago.”

“A few hours?” said Bruce in a surprised voice. “Shit, what are you doing here then? I thought you took time off during the visit.”

“I did,” sighed Harrison. “King George decided he had some business meetings first and is leaving me holding my dick waiting. Honestly, my nerves are on fire. I hate being so powerless, simply awaiting my fate.”

“Where’s Clarice?” asked Bruce. “I figured you guys would be tied at the hip by now for the act.”

“I sent her to the costume department.” When Bruce didn’t catch on right away, Harrison added. “Shopping, I sent her to the shops to splurge on some couture so that she looks like my fiancée.”

“That is a hell of a perk,” said Bruce.

“Has to be done,” said Harrison. “What good is marrying a rich man if he’s not handing you a limitless spending account?”

“I guess you have a point,” said Bruce. “It would be strange if you didn’t spoil her.”

Thinking again of her being spoiled and happy at the shops made Harrison smile to himself once more. Clarice was a lovely woman, and she really did deserve to be spoiled. He was glad to do it.

The ring of his phone blasted through the calm of the moment, and he nearly dropped it trying to pull it out of his pocket. His father’s face and name glowed on the screen.

Harrison paled as he answered. “Yes, father.”

“Harrison, change of plans, we won’t be by until later this evening. Arrange a dinner for the four of us and we will meet you there at 6pm sharp.” It wasn’t a question or a negotiation among equals, it was a direct order from a boss to employee, and it boiled Harrison’s anger. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to scream into the phone until he was hoarse.

Bruce, intuitive hippy that he was, picked up on it immediately. He put both hands on Harrison’s taller shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. He mouthed to him, “You’ve got this. Stay calm and you win.”

It was cheesy, but it worked. Harrison took a deep breath, and the anger melted down. “Certainly, father. We’ll see you at 6.” He didn’t wait for a response, but simply hung up the phone, the way he knew his father would have done. It felt oddly satisfying.

“Nice job,” said Bruce. “Are you going to be okay during this whole thing? It won’t do you any good to have the fiancée trick down if you lose your inheritance entirely because you punched your old man.”

Harrison rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “I’ll be fine, mate, cheers. It will be much better in person. He may own this place, but I have home field advantage when it comes to being comfortable here. Plus, he’s so old now that I don’t think I have the heart to punch him anyway.”

“Well, that’s a relief to hear. Don’t stress, dude, you’ve got this,” said Bruce. “I hate to duck out, but I’ve got to hit the showers before my shift starts. I’ll have my phone on if you need me, okay?”

“Don’t let Jones see you with that.” Harrison’s replacement for the week liked to make up for his inadequacies and inability to ever take over the resort by forcing the staff to adhere to rules they usually got to break under Harrison’s watch. Plenty of them would be furious at him for a while for the switch, but Jones was reliable and independent, and that was what Harrison needed. His staff would just have to deal with it.

“Hey, you out-rank Jones, tell him that I’m special,” said Bruce with a laugh. He patted Harrison on the back as he passed by him and headed towards the staff facilities to prepare for his day.

Harrison sighed and checked his watch again impulsively, then immediately mocked himself for it. He suddenly had a great many hours to kill and he hadn’t planned on that. It was like his father was extending his torture indefinitely, and Harrison knew he needed to find something to keep himself busy and keep his mind occupied so he didn’t stress himself into a coma before he even got the chance to truly destroy his future with this ruse.

He wondered what Clarice was doing and, after only a moment’s hesitation, pulled up her number on his phone. It rang a few times before she answered, out of breath from laughing. “Oh, hi honey,” she teased.

Harrison smiled. She was all-in for the plan, apparently. “Hi dear. How are you enjoying the boutiques?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” said Clarice, and then she hiccupped. He could hear Trudy laughing in the background. “We stopped at the bar first.”

“You can take those drinks into the stores with you, you know.”

“We can?” said Clarice in a silly, excited voice.

“Well,
you
can, since you’re the queen of the resort and all. Tell the security guards to blame me.”

“This is already the most fruitful relationship I’ve ever been in.”

Harrison chuckled. “Father rang and said he won’t be arriving until this evening for dinner, so you and Trudy can feel free to take your time shopping. We need to be ready to meet him by six.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Clarice. “I’ll make sure I’m ready to go by then. What are you going to do all day?”

Harrison looked longingly out the employee entrance. “I think I need some time with my surfboard and the sea. It’s the only thing that will relax me now.”

He didn’t know why, but he could hear Clarice smiling. “That sounds lovely. I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Tonight, Clarice.”

H
is time
on the sea did wonders for Harrison’s nerves and his mood. The waves weren’t incredibly great, and the beach was simply packed with tourists, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could get between him and happiness when he was riding waves. It was one of the biggest things that kept him attached to Bali even on the days where he hated everything else about his life. He would give up everything else first before he would give up his access to the ocean.