How to Fake a Love Story

9: Of Aftermaths

Despite the fun he had on this date, he didn't want to be seen carrying his unconscious boyfriend out by the various people who were dining in the front room of the restaurant. He was sure that the rumour mill would be running full steam if anyone clicked a photo of him carrying Ryan out.

That wasn't the way he wanted to introduce Ryan as his boyfriend. He had much, much bigger plans for the boy.

With a simple request, the manager managed to arrange for them to leave through the backdoor without being seen by the other patrons. Though the backdoor was still through the kitchens where the chefs stared at them as he carried Ryan bridal style, it was infinitely better than the front door.

The manager promised to make sure that none of his employees talked about this incident.

Sighing in relief after placing Ryan in the limo, Jared took the seat opposite him and stretched out his legs. Ryan weighed less than him but it was no easy feat to carry a full grown man to the car.

The driver merely raised an eyebrow before closing the door and starting up the limo.

Jared found himself staring curiously at Ryan's sleeping face.

He was adorable. Not only in his physical features but the way he acted. Jared was sure that Ryan was more or less homophobic and he had to wonder how could Ryan be so confident about duping him.

He was sure that Ryan was a gold digger, a very lousy one but still a gold digger. He was from Britain, that much Jared was confident about. While he talked under the influence of alcohol, his British accent had been very prominent. It made Jared wonder why he suppressed it during normal conversation.

Shaking his head, he glanced out the window. It had been nearly twenty minutes since they left and the neighbourhood they were in seemed to be a very well-to-do one. That meant Ryan wasn't bad off. Did it mean that he was an actual con man rather than a simple gold digger or he had a big job that had a very generous salary?

The limo stopped and Jared was shaken out of his thoughts. The driver quickly rushed to open the door and Jared raised his eyebrows at the impressive house.

It wasn't anything compared to his house of course but it was still an impressive building for a man who had just arrived in America.

Glancing at Ryan's unconscious form, he picked the boy up with some difficulty. He was sure that Ryan would not be happy if he found out that Jared had been carrying him bridal style. Resisting the urge to chuckle at the image of Ryan's angry face, he made his way to the door and rang the doorbell.

A thought struck him. What if Ryan lived alone? That was the most probable option given that he was-

The door opened an inch.

A brown eye peered from it.

Jared floundered."Umm.. Is this Ryan Grayson's house?"

The person's one eyed gaze dropped to the body in his hands before resting on his face. After a few moments of awkward silence they stepped back and opened the door.

Jared stepped inside and went directly towards the couch where he deposited Ryan.

Turning his attention back to the person who opened the door he had to blink in surprise. The lady was wearing a shirt that three times bigger than her size and it covered her tiny frame, reaching till her thigh. Her blonde hair with pink streaks curled around her face in long waves.

"What are you staring at?"

Jared looked up and met her gaze. She stared at him with slightly raised eyebrows and he bit his tongue.

He was supposedly gay.

Gay people don't stare at ladies.

Especially at their chests.

He averted his gaze to the sleeping form of his boyfriend.

"Who are you?" He asked instead, preferring to look around the room rather than at the girl who was still staring at him.

"Who are you?" She asked in return and he frowned, forcing himself to look at her face. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I am his boyfriend." He glanced at he sleeping form of Ryan before returning his gaze back to her face. "He had a bit too much to drink on our date."

She stared at him and he started to feel distinctly uncomfortable. "Who are you?" He asked again, since she didnt seem to be talking any time soon.

"Why does it matter?" He was getting tired of being questioned instead of getting some answers. "I am not his girlfriend since he is obviously gay and that's all you need to know."

He gaped at her borderline rude tone. Somehow he found that hard to believe. He knew that Ryan was not gay which meant that she must be either his girlfriend or his relative. Given the fact that she didn't seem too fazed to see him, he guessed that she was more friends -with- benefits.

But it still didn't answer his question of whether she knew that Ryan was dating him for his money.

"Thank you for bringing him home." He was brought out of his thoughts by her sweet voice and he had to blink at the sudden change in attitude as she smiled up to him.

He noticed that she had slunk closer to him while he had been thinking and he gulped. It was already hard to keep his eyes on her face and the close proximity wasn't helping much.

"Ah well... I do like him you know so.." He shrugged as he tried to look anywhere other than her. He slowly backed up towards the door as she followed him. She stood near him with a smile on her face and he once more glanced at Ryan who was sleeping on the sofa.

The boy was peacefully oblivious to what was going on around him.

"Well now, it's getting rather late isn't it? You do have work tomorrow. So off you go." The only reason he stumbled out the door was because of the fact that he was caught off guard by her unexpected shove. She was still grinning as she slammed the door to his face and he was left staring open mouthed at the elobrate knocker.

What the hell just happened?



Expensive high-heeled boots clacked mercilessly on the airport tiles in heavy, powerful, measured strides. The steady click of several suitcases moving in terrible unison thundered behind her on polished marble. A few bodyguards-complete with the men-in-black outfit plus wire-were in tow.

Yeah, she did.

Or more specifically her father did.

They were less to protect her and more for protecting other from her.

Myra stepped outside of the airport and breathed in deeply. It stirred childhood memories of growing up here in the summer before moving to London almost permanently.

She hadn't been here in years; it smelled the same as she remembered it.

Whipping off her dark sunglasses, she scanned angrily around her from underneath her cap-searching-as if the man she was hunting down were nearby. A definite frown of broiling anger flattened her lips. Her free hands fisted with the desire to pound something very bloodily and very pulp-ily.

"He's here; I just know it," she hissed venomously. Without turning, she barked out the address of her attendant, "Thompson!"

He stepped forward. "Yes, Miss Richards?"

She glanced at him. "Do you know why I've come here?"

Her attendant was silent a moment, as if thinking over her question.

He wasn't.

They all just knew better to give the illusion that they were or face consequences.

"No, Miss Richards." He replied dutifully.

A vicious grin spread across her red, glossed lips. "I'm here to kill a rat, liar, and a cheat."

Her attendant remained silent-keenly aware of the ill-contained rage rife within each syllable.

Satisfied that her violent wishes had gotten through to them well enough, Myra smiled, briefly revelling in the adrenaline coursing through her veins that had time to ferment into something truly potent over the flight.

Finally, the attendant swallowed, clearing the several pounds of heavy lead that had suddenly formed in his throat as quietly as he could manage. "Yes, Miss Richards."

"Call me Miss Myra."

His reply was prompt. "Yes, Miss Myra."

She was here on a personal capacity to destroy the man who ruined her life.

And there wasn't anything that would come in her way to ruin his.