Falling For His Fake Mate

5

Zane.

I didn’t even try to hide the confusion. “What’s going on?” I asked, looking back to the cucumber woman. “Who the hell is Lily, then?”

The one with the cucumber slices finally peeled them off and tossed them in a nearby bowl, clearly annoyed that she had been interrupted. “You really need to chill, man. Just because I didn’t show up doesn’t mean we lied.” she said.

Her tone was dripping in attitude; unapologetic, uncaring. She opened her eyes… and just like that, her whole body language shifted.

She blinked up at me, her mouth opened slightly in shock, then it curved into something else entirely. A smile that was coy and calculated. The kind of smile that slithered instead of bloomed.

She straightened her spine, reached up to sweep her hair back behind one ear, and looked at me through thick lashes like I was dessert.

“Is this the man you met?” she asked Jasmine, her voice suddenly sweet as syrup. “Why didn’t you tell me he was this handsome? I wouldn’t have sent you to go instead of me.”

Ah.

There it was, the truth slipping out of her mouth like lipstick off a wine glass.

Jasmine stood awkwardly behind her, guilt painted all over her face.

“So,” I said slowly, eyes fixed on her, “you lied? You're not who you say you are?” I asked, my blood already boiling at how easily these two women had played me.

Jasmine opened her mouth, but cucumber woman beat her to it. “Oh please, you’re so dramatic. No one lied here about anything. We just… substituted.”

She said that like it was nothing, like nothing happened, and it irritated me, but I said nothing as I stood there.

And as if she hadn’t just hijacked her... whoever she was's identity, she reached out and grabbed my arm like we were best friends.

“Come in, Mr. Marshall,” she cooed, trying to pull me inside.

I fought the instinct to yank my arm away. Her touch was… wrong, and familiar. It was like those women that always swam around me, all fake. It wasn’t just the lie that bothered me… it was the way she touched me like I owed her something for it.

She was arrogant, manipulative, and borderline rude, and I had seen it all in under two minutes.

Jasmine… the Jasmine, she stood frozen behind her, eyes darting to mine with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

Was it regret, or maybe embarrassment? A silent plea of understanding? I wasn't sure which one.

Normally, I would be able to read humans without any issues, but she seemed a tad bit off, and I couldn't get one read.

But I knew one thing for damn sure. Lily didn’t suit her, and this must be why the name sounded a bit off to me back there at our dinner date.

But Jasmine? Jasmine did.

She wasn’t fragile like a flower… she was delicate like a bomb. And I needed to know why the hell she pretended to be someone else… and why I still wanted her anyway.

I could just tell she would be perfect for this role of playing my wife for a year. I already had the narrative in my head, but right now, knowing she wasn't the woman my father had actually asked Matthew to set me up with was just something I have to work on.

I followed them inside, not because I wanted to, but because I needed to, I needed answers, and maybe needed to resist the irrational urge to fire Matthew for dragging me into this soap opera.

The apartment was cozy, and it smelled faintly of vanilla and something fried, probably bacon.

Jasmine walked ahead of me, silent, her posture stiff, and I looked around Lily sauntered in behind me, like she was the hostess of some exclusive, velvet-rope afterparty.

She flopped on the arm of the couch, legs crossed, bare feet bouncing. “Relax,” she said like she hadn’t just yanked the rug out from under me. “You’re acting like someone shot your dog.”

I turned to them both, with my jaw tight. “Okay. Someone better start talking. What the hell did you two think you were doing?”

Jasmine opened her mouth, but Lily, of course, beat her to it. “It was just a switch. Nothing dramatic. I had a business meeting, Jasmine didn’t, and your father was rushing my uncle, so I asked her to go in my place.”

I looked at Jasmine as if to corroborate Lily’s story, but all I saw was surprise.

Maybe it was because she didn't think Lily would admit to it, or because she had lied about something.

“And you didn't think to mention that.” I glanced at Jasmine.

“I was going to,” she muttered. “But it wasn't my place to make that decision.”

“And what exactly did you think was going to come out of this?” I asked, more to Lily than her. “You expected me to just never find out?”

Lily waved a dismissive hand in the air like I was boring her. “I figured if she tanked it, then that was that. If it went well, and you reached out again, then I would show up and explain things.”

I turned to Jasmine, who still hadn’t moved from where she was standing near the kitchen. “And you went along with this… why?”

“I didn’t want to at first,” she admitted, voice quiet. “But she talked me into it. And I thought it would just be uncomplicated. A quick meeting. But then you asked me to marry you and it got… complicated.”

Complicated was an understatement.

“And yet, here I am,” I said flatly. “Still waiting for your answer.”

Jasmine looked at me then and I could see hesitation, guilt, and something else flickering in her eyes… resolve, maybe. Or shame.

But before she could open her mouth, Lily jumped in, again.

“Actually,” she said, sitting up straighter, “that’s not going to work.”

I turned slowly to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t marry her,” she said, gesturing lazily toward Jasmine. “She’s not the one who’s supposed to marry you. I am.”