THIRTY

DAY BOYFRIEND



WHITNEY G.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Whitney Gracia Williams

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs





SYNOPSIS


I should've never agreed to this arrangement...

Thirty days ago, my boss--Mr. Wolf of Wall Street, came to me with an offer I
couldn't refuse: Sign my name on the dotted line and pretend to be his fiancée
for one month. If I agreed, he would let me out of my employment contract with
a "very generous" severance package.

The rules were pretty simple: No intimate kissing, no actual sex. Just pretend to
love each other for the press, even though I've secretly wanted to knock that sexy
smirk off his face since the first day we met.

I definitely didn't need to think twice about this. I signed my name and started
counting down the seconds to when I would never have to deal with his special
brand of ass-holery again.

I only made it to one minute...

We argued the entire four-hour flight to his hometown, failed to make a
convincing impression with the welcoming press, and right when I was about to
knock that arrogant look off his face in real life? He purposely dropped his bath
towel in front of me, distracting me with his nine-inch cock to "show me who the
bigger person was" in our relationship. Then he gave me his trademark smirk
once again and asked if I wanted to consummate our marriage.

Tragically, this is only day one.
We still have 29 more days to go...



For you.
Thank you.








 DAYS LEFT UNTIL I GET TO QUIT



730 days

17520 hours

1,051,200 minutes

63,072, 000 seconds



THE ASSISTANT
Emily


There was only one thing worse than waking up at five o’clock every Monday
morning. It was waking up knowing that the rest of my week was about to be
spent working at Wolf Industries.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound of my alarm jerked me out of my thoughts, and I rolled across my
bed, yanking my clock from the wall. Sighing, I tossed the covers off my body
and slipped into the bathroom, taking a quick, hot shower.

The second I stepped out, I covered my face with a light layer of make-up and
put on one of my favorite navy-blue dresses with complementing nude heels. I
debated whether I should wear something more festive to celebrate today’s
occasion, but this shit was not worth celebrating. Ever.

I picked up my phone and noticed a slew of new messages from my closest
coworkers.

Congratulations, Emily!
Congrats on making it two years with The Wolf, Emily!
Go, Emily! Two years!
How the fuck did you last this long???
Are we celebrating this or nah?

Another year at my job should’ve warranted a night of champagne, a celebratory
evening with friends, or even legitimate happiness. But working for Nicholas A.
Wolf—the literal Wolf of Wall Street, just meant another “x” stamped on my
“days until I get to quit” calendar.

One of the most infuriating men I’d ever worked for, Mr. Wolf was an alluring
enigma who ate deals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He was the type of man
who owned a different designer suit and thousand-dollar watch for every day of
the year. He was also, unfortunately, the type of man who still managed to make
me wet despite his weekly ass-holery. Especially when I was seconds away from
wanting to slap him.

Over the past two years, I’d spent more time with him than I spent with anyone
else in my life. He was the first person I saw in the mornings, the last person I
spoke to at night, and since we were both workaholics, he was the one person I
saw every weekend.

I stood by his side as he ruthlessly ran his billion-dollar corporation, as he
channeled his life lessons from one too many viewings of The Godfather. I sat in
on meetings with his closest cabinet of executives, taking notes on their body
language and watching anyone who was suspected of being disloyal. And I
accompanied him on all of his business trips—foreign and domestic, dutifully
keeping him abreast of the inner workings of his corporation.

Our two-year business relationship now mirrored a modern marriage, without
the sex. The only benefits I gained from working under him were material:
unlimited town car access, a corner office that overlooked Manhattan, access to
his credit account whenever I wanted to go shopping, and a salary that was more
than five times what most CEOs paid their executive assistants. Then again, it
was a salary I was never truly able to enjoy because I was always working.

My life was his life.

Scrolling down my list of contacts, I sent my town car driver a text.

ME: I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.
DRIVER: I’ll be there in fifteen.

I set out some food and water for my kitten, Luna. Then I called Wolf Industries’
main receptionist.

“Mr. Wolf’s office,” she answered on the first ring. “This is Savannah Smith
speaking. How may I direct your call this morning?”

“Savannah, it’s Emily. I’m calling with your set of first of tasks for the day.”

“I’m all ears, Miss. Johnson.”

“I need you to make sure the conference room is cleared for Mr. Wolf’s eight
o’clock meeting with Van Corps,” I said. “I’ll also need the files from Pierce,
Inc. on my desk so I can pull out all of the unnecessary segments he hates before
I give it to him for final approval. I’ll also need you to book me a five-minute
meeting with HR so I can write up the intern who was flirting with him this past
Friday—he didn’t appreciate that. Oh, and can you call Einstein’s Bagels and tell
them I’ll be there to pick up his breakfast ten minutes earlier than usual?”

“Right away, Miss Johnson!” She was always way too cheery in the morning.
“I’ll see you soon, and congratulations on your two-year anniversary here! I
hope you’re feeling proud today!”

Far from it. “Thank you. See you soon.” I ended the call and turned up the
volume on the last few minutes of Market-Watch, listening for any last-minute
changes. I clasped my favorite bracelet onto my wrist and walked over to my
twin sister’s bedroom.

“I’m leaving now, Jenna!” I said, knocking. “Can you make sure you sign for my
packages this afternoon?”

“What?” She immediately swung her door open and she raised her eyebrow. “I
thought you were quitting today.”

“I am. I just have to make sure a few things are in place first, and I want to make
sure that I—” I stopped talking once I spotted a naked guy sprawled across her
mattress. “Who is that on your bed?”

“I don’t see anyone.” She smiled. “Who is that on your bed?”

“What? No one.”

“Exactly,” she said. “No one…Ever.”

A horn suddenly honked outside our brownstone, and I stepped back before the
two of us started another argument about her ridiculous sex-life.

“We’re definitely talking about this when I get back.” I rushed to the living room
and grabbed my briefcase. I buttoned my coat and headed outside, slipping into
the backseat of my town car.

“Good morning, Miss Johnson.” The driver, Vinnie, looked at me through the
rearview mirror. “Shall I congratulate you on your momentous achievement, or
keep that praise to myself?”

“Keep it to yourself.” I laughed. “You’ve lasted for ten years. That’s far longer
than I have.”

“Not exactly.” He smiled as he pulled onto the road. “I’ve never had to work
directly under Mr. Wolf.”

Very true… “I’m so jealous of your life right now.”

“I bet,” he said. “Where are we headed before I drop you off at headquarters this
morning?”

“I need to pick up some files from Deutsche on Fifth, a report from an associate
of the Lehman Brothers on Seventh, and I need to get his usual breakfast and
coffee from Einstein’s.”

“Right away.” He shot me a look of sympathy before coasting through the
streets.

By the time I arrived at the main building, it was seven thirty, which gave me
five minutes to spare before Mr. Wolf arrived.

I set out the morning files on his desk, poured the coffee from the paper cup into
one of his preferred mugs, and ordered one of the interns to organize his dry
cleaning in the private closet.

As I was spreading cream cheese on his bagel, my phone repeatedly buzzed in
my pocket.

Secret employee thread: The Wolf is here…

I rolled my eyes. I was beyond annoyed that we were still calling him the name
that further inflated his massive ego.


Me: Can we switch his name to ‘The Douchebag’ or ‘The Asshole’? Just for one
day?
Secret employee thread: Never.
Secret employee thread: Hell no.
Secret employee thread: THE WOLF!

I walked out of his office at the very moment he stepped off the elevator. Talking
on his cell phone, he strolled through the hallway, looking sexy as ever in a
three-piece grey suit. His monogrammed “W” cufflinks sparkled against the
light, and his Italian-leather shoes shone so brightly that they practically said,
“Yes, we’re new. And yes, he’s only wearing us once.”
Every woman in his path did an obvious double take—earning a cocky smirk
from his full lips and a look of appreciation from his deep blue eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Wolf.” The receptionist blushed and handed him a folder as
he walked by.

“Good morning, Miss Smith.” He gave her a smile and ended his call, heading
straight toward me. He looked me up and down as he approached, stopping
when I didn’t move. “Miss Johnson.”

“Mr. Wolf.”

“Is there any reason why you’re currently out here and not waiting in my office
to give me my morning updates?”

“There is.” I handed him a sheet of paper. “I’ve emailed you all the updates you
need, and here’s the printout. I just remembered that I have an important doctor’s
appointment this morning, so I need to be on my way. I should be back by
lunch.”

“If you’re going to be gone that long, did you at least call the Petersons of—”

“Monte Verde?” I finished his sentence. “Yes, and they’ve agreed to reschedule.
And before you ask, I’ve had Savannah prepare the conference room for your
eight o’clock session with Van Corps and the interns—minus the one who was
flirting with you, are prepping the boardroom for the afternoon meeting with
your PR team.”

“What about my conference call with Mellon?”

“I rescheduled it for tomorrow,” I said. “I figured your PR meeting might go
over.”

“Hmmm. How interesting.”

I bit my lip to prevent myself from saying something sarcastic. After all this
time, this man was still incapable of giving me a fucking “thank you,” as if his
lips were somehow allergic to the words.

“Well, in that case, I’ll see you after your doctor’s appointment,” he said,
unlocking the door to his office. “I hope all is well with you.”

I’m sure you do…




Half an hour later, I stepped into the glittering lobby of Grand Hearst Hotels. I
wasn’t here for a doctor’s appointment at all. I was here for a job interview.

I’d passed the first interview rounds with flying colors over the past couple
weeks, and today was the moment of truth. This was the final interview—a one-
on-one with the CEO himself, so I was trying to stay calm. Trying not to get too
excited about the prospect of freedom.

I tucked my Wolf Industries employee badge into my purse and took the elevator
to the top floor.

“Are you Miss Johnson?” A receptionist greeted me the moment I stepped off
the cart.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Excellent,” she said, standing to her feet. “Follow me. Mr. Hearst is ready to
see you now.”

I followed her down the bright white halls as women in heels rushed by us on the
other side. I silently envisioned myself walking down these same halls next
week, smiling at whatever the hell everyone here seemed so happy about all the
time.

The receptionist opened the door to a large office that took up half the floor, and
inside, the CEO—an attractive grey-haired man smiled at me as I approached his
desk.

“Good morning, Miss Johnson!” Mr. Hearst stood up and extended his hand.
“It’s great to finally meet you in person after all these interview rounds.”

“You as well sir.” I shook his hand and took a seat.

“You have quite the portfolio, I must say.” He glanced at his computer screen
and tapped a few keys on his keyboard. “You were first in your class from Yale
in undergrad, and first in your class at Harvard Law.” He tapped his keyboard
again. “You completed consecutive summers at some pretty outstanding law
firms, and now you work at Wolf Industries. Why aren’t you working at a law
firm?”

“Most of them were downsizing during the recession, sir.”

“Ah, I see.” He slid his reading glasses down the bridge of his nose. “Well, I’m
still beyond impressed with your resume. Hell, I don’t think we have anyone
here who was first in their law class, from an Ivy-league at that.

I smiled and softly tapped my foot against the floor. I waited for him to say the
four words I’d been waiting to hear all year: When can you start?

I reminded myself that I needed to hesitate a few seconds before blurting out,
“Right fucking now.”

Don’t say fucking. Don’t say fucking. Just say, right now…

“After carefully considering everything that you would potentially bring to my
company, Miss Johnson,” he said after several seconds of silence. “I think I can
—”

“I can start today.” I couldn’t help myself. “Like, right now. I’m willing to share
an office, I’m willing to work overtime and weekends, and I’ll happily accept
twenty percent less than my current salary.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I can’t hire you, Miss Johnson.” He shut his laptop. “As
impressive as you are, I don’t think you would fit in here.”

What? “Well, why can’t you just give me a chance—even a temporary one, and
find out for yourself? I’ve gotten along just fine with every interviewer I’ve met
here.”

He sighed. “Okay, look. I can’t hire you because I don’t want to be blackballed
by Mr. Wolf.”

“Come again?” I was confused. “What does Mr. Wolf have to do with
anything?”

“Everything,” he said, crossing his arms. “Your resume says that you’re an
executive assistant at his company. It doesn’t specify that you work directly
under him.”

“Everyone works directly under him.”

“You know what I mean.” A worried look crossed his face. “You’re his executive
assistant. You’re the Emily everyone has to go through to get to him. Like, that’s
you, and you’re sitting in my office like that’s not the biggest conflict of interest
on fucking Wall Street. You’re his right hand for Christ’s sake.”

“Mr. Wolf has nothing to do with your company, Mr. Hearst.”

“Actually, he does,” he said. “Five years ago, he invested the final thirty percent
we needed into our newest chain of Bed and Breakfast locations. He also greased
some wheels for us with the city zoning department so we could get our new
high-rise built closer to The High Line. I won’t dare pay him back by stealing his
executive assistant. Crossing him is a death wish, and everyone in this city
knows it.”

I let out a breath, unsure of what to say.

“Besides,” Mr. Hearst said. “When he called me, he made it perfectly clear that
if I even thought about hiring you or giving you something as small as a
consideration, he would, in his own words, sue the fuck out of me.”

I felt all the color leaving my face. “You told him I was here?”

“Not at all. He called me a few minutes ago, right before you arrived.” He
opened his drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. “He also sent me a copy of
the loyalty statement that’s a part of your employment contract.” He handed it to
me. “He requested that I print a new copy for you so you can have it as a
personal reminder.”

My jaw dropped to the floor.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again whenever we wrap up the Berkshire deal with
Wolf Industries next month.” He stood to his feet and extended his hand once
more. “It was a pleasure meeting the Emily who Mr. Wolf speaks so highly
about all the time. I hope you’ll tell him that I was kind, and that I let you down
quite nicely.”

I stood to my feet and left the room, not bothering to shake his hand or say
goodbye. I was beyond pissed that he wasted my time and enraged that Mr. Wolf
blocked me from getting a new job.

How did he even know I was coming here?

I stepped onto the elevator and bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from
screaming. I didn’t need a personal copy of that loyalty statement to know what
it said. It practically promised that I would never seek another job until long
after I’d left his company, and that I’d never speak an ill-will about him in the
press.

I should’ve known better.

I was a foolish twenty-six year old who was high on hopes and dreams when I
signed it, thinking that a four-year term would fly right by. That working for the
number one man on Wall Street would make me an asset to any law firm in the
country once I was finished. But now I was a far less foolish twenty-eight year
old and two years of my term felt like ten. I was also certain that the new, grey
hairs growing at the back of my head were directly attributed to working with
him.

Stepping out of the Hearst lobby and into a fresh sheet of New York’s autumn
rain, I held up my umbrella and hailed my town car. I needed to vent about this
to Vinnie on the drive back, to add this incident to my never-ending list of shit
this man had put me through. But when the town car stopped in front of me, I
realized that Vinnie was not the driver.

The back door slowly opened, and a set of Italian leather shoes hit the pavement.
Mr. Wolf emerged from the back seat and held the door open, looking at me as
my cheeks flushed red.

“Are you going to get in, or are you going to stare at me for the rest of the day?”

I didn’t answer. I just let down my umbrella and slid to the far seat.

“Did your doctor say that everything was okay?” he asked as he sat across from
me.

“No, actually. He confirmed that the pain in my ass will probably worsen over
the next two years.”

“How unfortunate.” He smiled. “You can take us back to our office now, Lyle.”

The driver shook his head and rolled up the partition before pulling onto Fifth
Avenue.

Mr. Wolf’s stunning blue eyes were still on mine and his lips slowly curved into
that sexy-ass smirk that I’d grown to half love, half loathe.

“You know,” he said, pulling a small green gift box from his breast-pocket. “I
find it quite amusing that you would cheat on me. On our two-year anniversary,
no less.” He set the gift on my lap, but I didn’t touch it. It was going into the
desk drawer with the other anniversary gift he gave me last year. And the second
we returned to the office, I was taking that damn loyalty contract and my
employment contract to the law offices across the street to see if they could find
any loopholes.

It’s either that or get myself fired…

The town car parked in the private garage at Wolf Industries, and Mr. Wolf held
the door open for me once more. He led me to the elevator, and when the doors
closed, he looked down at me and lowered his voice.

“I would highly suggest cancelling the other three interviews you have
scheduled for this week as well,” he said. “The ones at Deutsche, Goldman, &
The Lehman Brothers. That is, unless you want me to continue personally
cancelling them for you.”

The elevator doors sprung open on the top floor and he stepped out, slowly
looking me up and down one last time. “Oh, and Emily?”

“Yes?”

“Happy anniversary.”


THE WOLF
Nicholas


There were only a few men in this city who possessed what it took to work on
Wall Street, a select few who understood the value of time and loyalty as well as
I did. I’d built my company from the ground-up, armed with a parting “Don’t let
that city eat you alive when” wish from my father and a worn black suit that was
two sizes too big.

I started off as a coffee runner—an unwanted scrub on some mega corporation’s
bloated payroll. Since no one was willing to give me a real job, I asked questions
whenever I could. I stayed late and eaves-dropped on meetings under the guise
of doing my college homework. And when none of the top tier executives
wanted to stay late and re-crunch the day’s numbers, I volunteered.

And years later, I built my own fund, invested in all the stocks they were too
scared to touch. Then I eventually became one of the most revered businessmen
on Wall Street. If there was a company that piqued my interest, I bought it. If
there was a stock that I wanted to invest in, I became an investor by dinner. And
if there was a deal that I wanted to make, it was mine within seconds.

At least, I thought that was the case before this morning.

“What do you mean Watson’s not sure if he wants me to buy his company
anymore?” I looked at my advisor, Brenton, in utter disbelief. “He put it up for
fucking sale. Whoever buys it from him doesn’t make one bit of a difference.”

“I’ve told you time and time again that he wants the new owner to be a family
man. You’re not a family man.”

“I definitely have a family.”

“A family of your own.” He sighed. “Not a family you call every other week
when you happen to remember that they exist. Oh, and definitely not someone
who’s been Page Six’s Bachelor of the Year eight times in a row.”

“Ten times in a row, but no one’s counting.” I smiled. “But if it’ll make Watson
feel any better about my personal life and how I’ll run his fund in the future, I
can call him and honestly admit that I haven’t fucked anyone in over eight
months.”

He gave me a blank stare. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Unfortunately not.” It’s been slightly longer than that…

“Even if I did believe you, and I don’t, your restraint from fucking anyone
doesn’t make you a family man. It just means you’re not behaving like your
normal self. By ‘family man,’ he means someone who knows that life is not all
work. Someone who can appreciate life’s moments outside of the boardroom.”

“I do a great job of that,” I said. “You said it yourself. My company pays the
highest salaries at every level so the employees can enjoy their lives outside of
the boardroom.”

“Right…” He sat up in his chair. “When your second CFO got married, what did
you give him as a wedding gift?”

“A generous bonus and a vintage wine.”

“Um hmm. And what exactly did you write on that wine bottle’s tag?”

I sighed. “I’m disappointed that you’re getting married. I never thought you were
the type.”

“What else?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to remember.

“You wrote, ‘I’m pretty sure you’ll be divorced in two years, so you’re better off
ditching her and flying to Florida to help me with this Tampa Deal.’ Then again,
at least you were kind enough to write, ‘PS—I hope you at least got a pre-nup
before you signed that contract. See you at work when you get back. Love,
Nicholas.’ I think it was those last two words that made him quit.”

“That was two years ago,” I said. “I don’t send those types of notes anymore.”

“Because Emily does them for you.” He rolled his eyes. “Outside of your
company, you don’t have any true relationships, and that’s exactly what Watson
wants his successor to have. He thinks it’ll make the owner more empathetic
when it comes to certain things. Don’t you?”

Fuck no.

I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly acting like a saint since he was far more
ruthless than I was when he ran his own firm decades ago. He’d once written the
exact five words that summed up exactly how I viewed relationships:
worthlessly fickle, useless, and unpredictable.

Once they crashed, they never recovered, so I never invested any energy into
them. The idea of ever starting a family had never crossed my mind because I
saw firsthand what it did to some of my most successful peers. Their work ethic
gradually slowed, their drive for power waned, and they began to run their
companies on happiness instead of financial sense.

And I was completely baffled as to why after six months of negotiating, five
weeks of endless conference calls, and hours of back and forth, that this CEO
was considering backing out of a deal over something so frivolous.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “I need us to seal this deal, Brenton. I’m
not taking no for an answer.”

“I’m sure you aren’t.” He smiled nervously. “A five billion dollar deal would be
a hell of a portfolio boost—especially since it’ll make you double that in ten
years once the other deals go through.”

But if we don’t get it, we’ll lose twenty billion in the same amount of time…

I could guess the rest of his thoughts without him saying a word.

“Do you have any ideas on how we could get him to change his mind?”

“Finally!” He laughed and opened a folder. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me
that all day.”

Before he could launch into his strategy, my desk phone rang with an unfamiliar
number.

“Hold that thought for one second, Brenton.” I motioned for him to give me a
second. “This is Mr. Wolf,” I answered the phone.

“Mr. Wolf, this is Mr. Tanner from the Tanner and Associates firm across the
street. You told me to call if um, if Emily Johnson ever came over again.”

“I did,” I said. “When was she there?”

“Just now, sir. She just left not too long ago.”

I pulled out my phone and looked at my inbox. Her last email to me was from
thirty minutes ago.


Subject: Dentist Appointment

Mr. Wolf,

I seem to have forgotten that I also had a dentist appointment scheduled for
today. Since the office is close by, I’m just going to run over and personally
reschedule it for a later time. Just like you suggested.

Emily Johnson,
Executive Assistant to Nicholas A. Wolf, Wolf Industries

PS—I forgot to say it back. Happy Anniversary :-)


She’s still fucking with me…

“What did she ask you for, Mr. Tanner?” I asked.

“The same thing as always, sir. Inquiring if we could look at the contract again
and find any loopholes.”

“Are there any?”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” I smiled. I had that shit looked at every year as well. “I’ll send an intern
over with a token of my appreciation at lunch. Thank you for letting me know.” I
ended the call right as Emily stepped into my office with a tray.

Wearing her favorite fitted blue dress that never ceased to get my attention, she
walked across my floor in her red-bottom heels and gave me her usual sexy
glare.

“Good afternoon Mr. Wolf,” she said, setting the tray on my desk. “Brenton.
Here’s your lunch and a copy of the Watson files like you asked. Can I get you
anything else?”

“How was your dentist appointment?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Same as the doctor’s one,” she said, narrowing her eyes right back at me. “I’ll
just have to deal with a certain cavity that’ll rot for the next two years.”

“That’s not healthy at all, Emily.” Brenton placed his napkin in his lap. “I have a
good dentist that can get rid of any cavity. You should see him if yours is telling
you things like that.”

We both looked at him.

“What?” he said, stuffing a fry into his mouth. “He’s a really good dentist!”

“Are there any more appointments you have scheduled for today, Emily?” I
asked, trying my best to ignore the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her
dress. “I’d like to know right now.”

“I’m sure you would.” She shrugged. “My lunch break starts now, though. It’ll
have to wait until I’m done.” She turned and walked away, and I watched her
every move until she was long gone.

Despite the glares she threw at me on a daily basis, the sarcastic hand-written
post-it notes she slipped into my desk, and the fact that she was still “secretly”
taking job interviews, I considered her to be my most loyal employee. And
strangely, my only friend. Next to Brenton, she was the only other person in this
building I completely trusted.

She was also, unfortunately, the sexiest woman I’d ever seen in my life. With her
deep and dark green eyes, her coffee-colored hair that fell past her shoulders in
waves, and a wardrobe that made my cock stiffen any time she walked into a
room, she put every super model I’d ever met to shame. Over the past two years
of her employment, I’d forced myself to deal with the torture of working by her
side during countless ten and twelve-hour days. I was still suffering from the
longest sexual dry spell because the only person I wanted to fuck was her, but I
knew better than to cross that line.

“Okay.” I took my coffee from the tray and cleared my throat. “Sum up your
idea for getting Watson back on our side for this deal in five seconds.”

“I think you should get engaged temporarily and show off your real family
within the same time frame, so it looks like you’re exactly the type of CEO he
wants you to be.” The words rushed out of his mouth faster than ever.

I stared at him long and hard. He’d suggested a lot of questionable shit since
becoming my advisor, but this was by far the most ridiculous.

“Out of all the available options, you want me to pretend to have a fiancée just
so I can close a deal?”

“A five billion dollar deal.” He nodded. “It makes far more sense in context. Let
me explain…”


THE WOLF
Nicholas


Several days later…


The words “Let me explain” were almost always a bad omen when they left
Brenton’s lips, and in the case of Operation: Fake Fiancee, they might as well
have been a curse.

“Wait, wait.” The fourteenth applicant of the week stood by my door. “Give me
once more chance, and I promise I won’t lie about my past again, Mr. Wolf. I’ll
tell you about all the drugs, I swear!”

Jesus Christ… I shook my head. Sadly, she wasn’t even the worst one we’d
interviewed.

“Let’s just go.” Brenton led her out of the office. “We’ll be in touch.”

I pulled out my cell phone and sent him a text.

ME: I’m only seeing one more today, Brenton. I’d like to hold onto the rest of
my brain cells. Thank you.

I hit send, and my desk phone rang.

“This is Nicholas Wolf,” I answered. “You have two minutes.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wolf.” It was a soft female voice. “My name is Heather
McAvoy and I’m with the Carriage Firm in Manhattan. I’m calling to ask you
about your thoughts in regard to my proposal I sent to your office last week.”

“I don’t recall receiving a proposal,” I said. “Did you get a confirmation email?”

“Yes, it was from the Emily.”

“Emily Johnson?” I shook my head. I wasn’t sure when everyone around me
started adding ‘the’ in front of Emily’s name.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Hold on for a few seconds.” I placed her on hold and called my secretary.
“Could you tell Miss Johnson to step into my office, please?”

I ended the call before she could answer, and within seconds Emily walked into
the room. Dressed in a new dress, a fitted beige one that clung to her curves, she
crossed her arms and pursed her puffy pink lips.

Jesus Christ…

“Yes, Mr. Wolf?” she said. “Are you checking to make sure I haven’t broken
away from my chains today?”

“You’ve fantasized about me putting you in chains?” I asked. “Let’s discuss
that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m on a conference call with one of your estate brokers
right now. What do you want?”

“I have Heather McAvoy from the Carriage Firm on the line. She claims you
sent her a confirmation email about a proposal I’ve never seen. I know you’re
attempting to get fired, but surely there’s a better way than hiding proposals from
me.”

“I’m not hiding anything from you,” she said. “I read over it and decided it
wasn’t worth your time. She’s only calling you because I told her that you had
far more important things to do than read a high-school level brief. But, by all
means, if you’d like to take a look for yourself, I placed a copy of it in your
cloud. Can I get you anything else?”

Your mouth. “I’d like some coffee.”

“So would I.” She walked toward the door. “There’s plenty of it downstairs in
the employee café.”

I waited for her to softly slam my door as usual, and found the proposal right
where she said it was. I managed to make it through the first five lines before
surrendering.

I hung up on Miss McAvoy and quickly drafted an email with the subject line,
“If Emily Says No, It’s a Fucking No.”

The second I hit send, an intern rushed into my office with a cup of coffee. She
blushed as she set it on my desk, offering me a small smile.

“How many sugars did you put in there?” I asked.

“Zero.” She blushed again. “Miss Johnson specifically said you wanted it black.”

Of course, she did…

I pulled my drawer open and removed my hidden panel, finding a post-it note in
Emily’s handwriting instead of my stash of raw sugar packets.


Stop STEALING the sugar packets from my office.
Thank you.
–Emily

PS—Not that I care (because I DON’T) but your doctor did say your stress could
be lessened by limiting sugars in a few cups of your daily coffee.


I groaned and sipped the bitter coffee. I started to text Brenton about cancelling
today’s final interview since it was taking him so long, but he walked into my
office with a pretty blond at his side.

“Nicholas Wolf this is Hannah Stone.” He walked her over to me. “Hannah
Stone this is Nicholas Wolf.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you in person, Mr. Wolf.” Her cheeks reddened as
she extended her hand. “I’ve read about you in a lot of newspapers and
magazines.”

“Only half of what’s printed is true.” I shook her hand and pulled out a chair for
her, bracing myself for what I hoped would be the final interview.

“So, Miss Stone.” Brenton cleared his throat. “We’re running a bit short on time
today, so we’ll skip the small talk and jump right into the improvisation part. I’m
going to ask you a few questions regarding the documents I asked you study and
most of what you’ve already read about Mr. Wolf and you’re going to pretend
like we’re shooting a documentary and that you’re his wife. Okay?”

“Okay.” She batted her eyes at me. “I’m ready to play Mrs. Wolf. I’m getting
paid for this right?”

“You’ll get paid if you get the job.”

“Wait. What?” She looked confused. “I don’t do free job interviews…”

What the fuck? I shot Brenton a look, but he ignored me.

“Miss Stone, we’ll gladly compensate you for your time at the end of this
interview.”

“Will you also validate my parking?” she asked. “I parked in a NAW spot in the
private garage.”

“A NAW spot?” He looked confused.

“Yeah, the spot said NAW and it had CEO painted underneath it, but I figured it
was an employee prank because Mr. Wolf is the CEO, not whoever this NAW
person is, you know?”

We both looked at her in a stunned silence.

“Miss Stone,” Brenton said finally. “Those three letters, N.A.W., are indeed for
Mr. Wolf. They were painted there for brevity.”

“Well, why would you ever go by the name NAW?” She snorted. “You have to
know that Mr. Wolf sounds so much better.”

“Can we just get this over with?” I asked, downing the rest of my coffee. I felt
like I’d already lost two brain cells during this conversation and I wasn’t going
to make it too much longer.

“Noted.” Brenton pulled out his notebook and sighed. “Miss Stone, what’s your
husband’s favorite color?”

“Yellow.” She winked at me. “But according to The Business Journal,
sometimes it’s green.”

It’s always orange.

“How does he take his coffee?”

“With tons of cream—like at least five pumps. Oh, and he always has to have an
extra shot of caramel.”

I’m allergic to caramel…

“His favorite movie?”

“It’s a tossup between The Titanic and The Notebook.” She smiled. “We watch
them together all the time. Sometimes he cries at the end.”

I’ve never cried at a goddamn movie.

“Can you tell me his favorite book?”

“No, but I can tell you mine. It’s Cosmo.”

That’s not a book…

“Okay, then.” Brenton shook his head and shut the questionnaire folder. “Miss
Stone, did you happen to read any of the materials I emailed to you last week in
regard to these questions?”

“I started to, but you emailed them to me on a Saturday. Saturday is my me-
time.”

“What about the days after? You had six other days of the week to prepare for
this.”

“Not really.” She scoffed. “Sunday through Friday are the days I need to get
ready for my me-time.”

I let out a few loud coughs. My signal that he needed to end this shit before I did.

“Last thing, Miss Stone.” He stood to his feet. “I called Harvard to verify that
you were a student there and they couldn’t locate your records. Did you attend
there under a different name?”

“What?” She looked confused. “I never said I went to Harvard.”

“You wrote it right here,” he said, pointing to her application. “It says Harvard
right next to the word college.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I just wrote that because I figured Mr. Wolf would be
more into an Ivy-league woman.”

“Fair enough.” He clicked his pen. “What college did you actually attend?”

“Well, I applied to tons of colleges. None of them actually let me in, so it’s not
technically my fault that I don’t have a true answer for that right now, you
know? I tried.”

His jaw dropped.

“It was interesting meeting you.” I stood up and extended my hand. “We’ll be in
touch.”

“Oh, great! This was so much fun!” She smiled and shook my hand. Then she
looked at Brenton. “I meant what I said about being paid for this interview. My
time isn’t free.”

“Go to the fifth floor and tell them Brenton sent you. They’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and winked at me as she walked
toward the door. “I’ll keep my phone volume on high, so I won’t miss the call-
back. When exactly will you be making your final decision?”

Neither of us said anything. And thankfully, she didn’t stick around for an
answer.

“Jesus…” Brenton slumped onto the sofa. “I didn’t think it could get much
worse.”

“You and me both.”

“You know what?” He sighed. “I’ll find a new, different way for us to get this
deal done and have some options to you tonight. I don’t think I can sit through
any more of these.”

“My thoughts exactly. Where are we on the Smith & Claxton acquisition?”

“It’s almost done,” he said. “Last time I checked, Emily was having the contracts
looked over by three different legal teams.”

“And the Barron account?”

“Secured as of this morning, and the papers will need your signature tomorrow
evening.”

Before I could ask about another deal we were pursuing, a knock came to the
door.

“Come in,” I called out.

The door opened, and Emily walked into the room with a stack of freshly printed
contracts.

“The Smith & Claxton contracts are officially binding and clear,” she said,
setting the papers on my desk. “I’ve highlighted a few questionable terms you
may want to adjust in the final round of negotiations, but they’re very minor.”

Brenton smiled at her.

“I’ve called ahead to The Four Seasons since you’re staying there tonight to
finalize things with Hayward and the manager had assured me that they won’t be
any caramels or sugars in the coffee stations. You’ll have three suit options in the
closet waiting, although I highly suggest you go with the black and grey Armani
one as that one looks best under the lobby’s lighting.”

“You told me you hated that suit.”

“No, I told you I hated how much you spent on that suit.” She uncapped a pen
and handed it to me. “One of the interns is going to come by in an hour to pick
up the Voss files, so you need to initial all sixty pages by then.”

“Why are you leaving early again?”

“Because my amazing boss is unknowingly treating me to an anniversary spa
session on his credit card, and I think I’m going to take my boyfriend.”

“Since when are you dating someone?” I clenched my jaw.

“Seeing as though I never have the time, never.” She sighed. “I’m going with my
sister. Jealous much?”

Extremely. “Well, why couldn’t you schedule your session on the weekend and
not during the hours I’m actually paying you for?” I swear she was the only
woman who could arouse me with her goddamn sarcasm. “I told you I needed
your help to prepare for my four o’clock meeting.”

“And I told you I placed some helpful post-it notes in the files.” She crossed her
arms. “Any other unnecessary questions before I leave?”

“I have some.” Brenton leaned forward in his chair. “Humor me for a second,
Emily. What’s Nicholas’s favorite color?”

“Orange. Although he lies in every single interview by saying it’s green because
he somehow thinks that makes him look smarter.” She looked at me and
narrowed her eyes. “It doesn’t.”

“How does he take his coffee?”

“Two sugars if no one is watching.” She shrugged. “Black if someone is.”

“His favorite movie?”

“The Godfather.”

“One, two, or three?”

“I think he’s watched them all so many times, he can’t even tell the difference
anymore.” She headed toward the door. “Any other random trivia questions?”

“Final one, just for fun. What’s his favorite book?”

“The Catcher in the Rye.” She opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
“I’m officially off now. Goodbye.”

The door closed and Brenton looked at me, smiling. “I take back what I said
about drafting new idea options. I think we just found your fake fiancée.”

I don’t fucking think so…
 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY


“You’re late, again.” Jenna looked up at me as I entered the relaxation room.
“I’ve been waiting on you for two hours.”

“Sorry.” I untied my robe and took a seat on the edge of the mineral bath. “I
forgot about a lunch meeting I’m hosting tomorrow and I needed to make sure I
had the right files.”

She shook her head. “You need to tell your boss that you deserve a bonus and an
additional raise for everything you do.”

“I’m already the highest paid EA in the city.”

“It’s still not enough,” she said, pulling her hair into a bun. “Are you sure he’s
fine with us running up a ten thousand dollar spa tab today?”

“Absolutely.” I placed my phone onto a towel and leaned back against the warm
stones. “I’m sure he’ll be utterly thrilled about it once he gets the bill.”

“So, I take it that you’re still trying to get fired?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “But I think I’ve finally realized that he’s not letting me go
until my contract is up.”

“It could be worse.” She shrugged. “You could be me and working to find
yourself. At least you’re established.”

I gave her a blank stare. My sister was living the ultimate ‘girl comes to New
York City and takes over the world’ fantasy life. As a renowned musician, her
days were spent composing songs for Broadway plays and international
recording artists, critiquing sunset symphonies, and earning tons of money
anytime she decided to pick up her cello and perform a private show. Then
again, her nights were spent picking up sexy strangers in elite bars who kept me
up all night with their moaning.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She splashed me, laughing. “I would trade in my
musical talents for your lawyer brain any day, especially if it meant I got the
chance to work under Nicholas Wolf every day.”

“You know he’s the most demanding man on the planet,” I said. “It’s not what it
seems at all.”

“So? Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love to be around him all the time. Maybe
you should try and sleep with him. Maybe that will get you out of your
contract.”

I rolled my eyes. Despite the thick, palpable tension that existed between
Nicholas and me since my first day, I highly doubted either of us would ever
cross that line. Sure, there’d been rare moments when I thought he looked at me
a certain way, moments when I was happy that he was staying late to work by
my side, but outside of a sarcastic innuendo here or there, we were strictly
platonic.

“I’ll pass on the whole making a move on my boss idea.”

“Figures. Well, if he wasn’t your boss—like if you were just friends and he
attempted to make a move on you, would you let him?”

In a heartbeat... “Never.”

“Interesting.” She held her hands under one of the fountains. “Anyway, in next
month’s edition of ‘I love my identical twin,’ I need you to stand in for me at a
meet and greet at Gershwin Theater. You just have to show up for twenty
minutes, introduce yourself as me and take a few pictures.”

“I’ll do it if you go as me to my employee renewal session again at the end of the
year. I really hate that it takes over two hours to listen to pointless speeches and
get a new name badge.”

“Done deal.” She smiled. “By the way, I’ll probably be bringing home another
guy tonight, so you may want to wear headphones. And before you ask me, yes
I know him. He’s a hedge fund manager.”

“Hedge fund managers are the scum of Wall Street. What’s his name?”

“I’ll ask him to remind me when he comes over.”

I shook my head and tossed a loofah at her. Before I could tell her that I was
slightly jealous of her newfound sex life, my phone sounded with the special
ring tone I had for Mr. Wolf.

Ugh… I picked it up and hit ignore.

Seconds later, he called again.

I hit ignore once more and sent him a text message.

ME: I’m busy running up a 10k spa tab right now. I can’t answer.

I turned off my phone and slid it across the tile. Then I slipped further into the
hot tub’s foam, shutting my eyes as I leaned against the underwater bench.

I was beginning to doze off when I felt someone tapping my shoulder.

“Yes?” I opened my eyes to see a spa attendant looking at me. “Is something
wrong?”

“Not at all, Miss Johnson.” She held out a phone. “Mr. Wolf called and asked to
speak to you.”

What the… I took the phone from her hand and held it up to my ear. “Yes, Mr.
Wolf?”

“You said you were only going to run up a ten thousand dollar tab,” he said.
“The manager says you’re on track to hit eleven.”

“I’m planning to stay until they close so I can get it up to twenty.”

He let out a low laugh. “I need you to meet me at my penthouse suite at six
tomorrow morning,” he said. “It’s extremely important.”

I sat up a bit. Any time he asked me to meet him at his penthouse at an ungodly
hour meant that an employee was betraying or stealing from him. And he’d been
utterly ruthless in his plans to even the score.

“Is this about someone going behind your back again?” I asked. “I can start the
termination paperwork tonight.”

“It’s about you.”

What? “I’ve never stolen anything from you.”

“Nothing except my patience.” His voice was firm. “Vinnie will pick you up at
five thirty. Don’t keep him waiting. And pick up the Rosenberg files from Syntec
on your way here, along with my coffee and bagel. Try not to drink half of it like
you usually do, or at least be less discreet about it.”

I hated that the sound of his voice—even in moments when he was being a
demanding ass, was a turn on.

“With all due respect, this call could’ve waited until after I left the spa.”

“With all due respect, you know I’m not the waiting type.” He hung up.

 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY


I leaned against the town car’s window early the next morning, taking small sips
of Mr. Wolf’s coffee while scrolling through my latest emails.

Subject: Is The Wolf dating supermodel Samantha Hendrix? Page Six says
so!
Subject: I heard The Wolf was looking at engagement rings for her
yesterday…
Subject: Give us the details ASAP, Emily!

I sighed, feeling a slight pang of jealousy in my chest. I’d assumed he was dating
her long ago, since every Monday afternoon was reserved with a “phone
conversation with Samantha,” and he never allowed me to intercept those calls.
They went straight to his private video line, and no one was allowed in his office
during that time.

Even though Page Six was pretty accurate when it came to all things for “Mr.
Bachelor of the Year,” I’d never actually seen him with anyone else since I
started working for him, and I’d never heard him mention anything about his sex
life. I honestly didn’t see how he could ever find the time.

Then again, if anyone can find the time for random sex, I’m sure it’s him…

I responded to each of my coworkers’ emails with an “I’ll find out as soon as I
can,” but regardless of when I discovered the truth, I wouldn’t say a word about
it to them. I vowed long ago that I would never share any details about his
personal life with anyone. That asshole or not, I would keep his secrets like I
hoped my future executive assistant would hold mine.

“We’re here, Miss Johnson.” Vinnie opened the back door for me. “Should I say
a prayer for you before you go inside?”

“Say a prayer for us both.” I stepped out of the car. “I’m taking you down with
me if I get fired.”

He laughed and waited for me to walk inside the building before returning to the
driver’s seat.

I rode the elevator to the top floor and held my access card against the key panel
for his pent-house. Then I took a deep breath before pushing the doors open.

I walked through his kitchen, parlor, and his living room—finally stopping once
his blue gaze met mine. He was leaning against the floor to ceiling windows that
overlooked Fifth Avenue, looking beyond sexy in a white T-shirt and blue jeans.
His dark hair was slightly messier than usual, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

“You can have a seat now.” He motioned for me to sit on his sofa.

He sat across from me and reached for his coffee. “Should I assume that you
didn’t steal any sips of this today like usual?”

“I’ve told you countless times before that I don’t drink your coffee. I don’t like
the extra vanilla you always request.”

He spun the nearly empty cup around in his hands, tapping the part where
remnants of my red lipstick stained the lid.

“That’s Vinnie’s lipstick,” I said.

“I’m sure.” He returned the coffee to me and tapped his fingers against his knee.
“I wanted to talk to you privately because I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes, I would like to quit my job as your assistant as of today,” I said, hopeful.
“Thank you for your offer.”

His lips curved into a smile but he didn’t laugh. “I’ve been very lucky
throughout my career, and I think I’ve reached a position where I can afford to
go after only the things I want. Would you agree?”

“I would.”

“Good.” He poured a glass of water and handed it to me. “Because I’m willing
to let you out of your employment contract if you agree to help me land this
particular deal.”

I sat up, completely intrigued.

“However, there are some conditions that come with this.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, first I’ll need you to help me appear like a more family-friendly CEO to
the public. I’ll need people to think I’m a man of commitment and that I’ve been
secretly committed to something private for a long time.”

“You want me to send out some positive press releases about your undying
commitment to charity work?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. I’ll need your personal services for a few
consistent weeks.”

I blinked, waiting for him to get to the good part. The ‘I’m finally getting out of
this contract’ part.

“You’ll also need to sign a new, separate non-disclosure agreement so we can
ensure that we’re both being loyal in reaching the same end-goal. Understand?”

“No.” I sipped my water. “I’m actually quite confused right now.”

“Emily, I need you to—” He hesitated, looking as if the next words were painful
to say. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Actually, I need you to be my
fiancée for the next thirty days.”

I dropped my glass to the floor, and it shattered into pieces.

I waited for him to laugh. To tell me that this was some type of joke and he was
simply testing my sense of humor.

No laughter came.

No further explanation came either.

He set a stack of papers next to me. “Agree to this, and you won’t have to work
for me anymore when we’re finished.”

I remained silent.

“Are you going to say something, Emily?”

I blinked.

“Fine.” He sighed. “You’ve always seemed like the hopeless romantic type, so I
guess I can oblige since I’m asking you to do this.” He handed me a pen. “Emily
Johnson, will you marry me?”

“No.” I stood to my feet and smoothed my dress. “Hell no. Would you like your
morning updates here or in your office?”

“I would like your signature here, on this paper.”

“I’ll pass,” I said. “I don’t recall seeing ‘pretending to be the boss’s wife’ in my
job description. And trust me, I have that description down by heart.”

“You’d be playing my fiancée, not my wife. There’s a difference.”

“Doubt it. You’re undeserving of both,” I said, more than ready to change the
subject. “Anyway, what time would you like the Claxton proposal on your
desk?”

“I’m offering you the chance to leave. Isn’t that what you want?”

“That’s not enough to put up with you outside of work for thirty days.” I shook
my head. “I thought you were happy about being a single CEO. You were Mr.
Page Six’s Bachelor of the Year eight times in a row.”

“It was ten, but I’m not counting.” He stood to his feet. “I personally think this
would be rather easy for the both of us since we’ve spent so much time together
anyway. I know you just as well as you know me.”

“No, you don’t.” I picked up my purse and started walking toward the door.
“You don’t know me at all.”

“I know that you hate your job.”

“Because I tell you that every day.”

“I know that you’re a lightweight. You can’t drink more than two drinks in an
afternoon without getting a headache.”

“Oh, wow.” I turned around to face him. “That’s practically soul-mate material.”

“I figured you’d be difficult about this.” He rolled his eyes. “So, I included a
financial bonus in the contract.”

“How much is it?”

“Why don’t you come back to my couch and read it?”

“Because I don’t want to.” I crossed my arms. “How much is it?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“Fifty thousand?” I scoffed. “You’re wearing a watch that’s three times more
expensive than that.”

“My watch has never taken secret job interviews behind my back.”

“That’s not enough money for what you’re asking me to do.” I turned away
again and opened his door. “I’ll have the Walter-Claxton proposal on your desk
by two o’clock this afternoon.”

“One hundred thousand.”

“No,” I said. “Is there anything else?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“I’ll also be sure to have the Carter case study on hand so we can see if their
predictions have any merit,” I continued to ignore his offer. “I think they’re fine,
but it won’t hurt to be one-hundred percent sure.”

“One million.” He glared at me. “Final offer.”

“I…” My voice caught in my throat. “Make it five million, and I’ll consider.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

I shrugged and rushed out of his condo—stepping onto the elevator before he
could come after me. As the doors glided shut, I cursed under my breath for not
accepting the million.

Hell, I should’ve accepted the half…

I debated going back upstairs and telling him that I changed my mind, that I
wanted to read over the contract and negotiate the terms. Before I could make up
my mind, I heard his signature ringtone sounding from my phone.

It was an email.


Subject: The Deal

I think it would be in your best interest to accept my offer. I highly doubt the
man you eventually marry will be as endowed as me…

--Nicholas


Nope! I clearly made the right decision.


 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY


I hit ignore on Mr. Wolf’s twentieth call of the morning, sending him a nice
“Whatever you need (as long as it’s not about THAT) let me know about it via
email” message instead. I was in disbelief that he’d asked me to marry him, and
I should’ve known something was up when Brenton sent me a text message
about my ring-size last night.

I would’ve never guessed that, though.

Opening my laptop, I logged into our portal of pending contracts. I wanted to see
which of them was supposedly worth going through a month of lies for.

It took me all of a minute to find it.

The $5B Watson deal with the family-oriented CEO…

I shut my eyes and sighed. We’d worked on the math of that deal together right
after his previous CFO left, and it was clear that without that deal and the pieces
that came with it, new deals would falter in the years to come.

Still, there has to be a better idea than getting a fake fiancée to seal that deal...

“Savannah?” I pressed my intercom button a few hours later.

“Yes, Miss Johnson?”

“Could you bring me a fresh printout of the Watson files?”

“Absolutely. I’ll bring it in five minutes.”

I ended the call and sent a quick email to our research department. As I was
organizing my notes, Savannah walked into my office with a cup of coffee.

“Here you are, Miss Johnson,” she said, placing it on my desk. “Would you like
anything else?”

Coffee? “That’s not a printout of the Watson files, Savannah.”

“I know.” She lowered her voice. “Mr. Wolf said the only thing I was allowed to
bring you today was coffee.”

“Excuse me?”

“He made it very clear that he would fire me if I chose to do otherwise. Would
you like some more coffee, maybe?”

“No, thank you.” I waited for her to leave my office and called Vinnie.

“At your service, Miss Johnson.”

“Vinnie, are you in the garage by chance?”

“I am.”

“Great. I left my briefcase and a box of files on your backseat this morning. Can
I meet you down there so I can get them?”

“No need, Miss Johnson. I’ll bring everything to you.” He hung up, and I spotted
a note on the sleeve of the coffee cup Savannah brought in.


Come to my office and read the contract. NOW.
—Nicholas Wolf


I tossed it into the trash and shook my head. I couldn’t wait to see the look on
my sister’s face when I told her the reason why he wanted to meet with me this
morning.

Seconds later, my door opened, and Vinnie walked inside with a different cup of
coffee.

“What the…” I crossed my arms.

“Sorry, Miss Johnson.” He set it on my desk. “I have orders from Mr. Wolf today
in regards to anything you ask me for, and I’m not allowed to drive you home
until he gives me a verbal okay.”

“Are you serious? Did he send out a company-wide memo or something?”

“Um.” He smiled. “Yeah, he did actually.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to me.


Subject: Important—EMILY JOHNSON

Miss Johnson is working on a high priority task for the company this afternoon,
and since you are a member of my team who has direct daily contact with her,
you are NOT to do anything that will distract her from this task at hand.

Should she ask you for anything, you will immediately deliver her a cup of
coffee. (That’s all she needs from you today.)

Failure to comply will result in your immediate termination.

Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—One of you needs to bring me my lunch…and my goddamn updates.


Ugh!

I picked up my phone to send him a scathing message in response, but he’d
emailed me first.


Subject: The Deal (Again)

Miss Johnson,

I rewrote the terms of this agreement and adjusted the financial compensation to
the amount you requested.

I highly suggest you come to my office to pick up the contract. I also suggest
that you give me an answer by the end of the day.

Otherwise, the security team will not allow you to leave the building.

Sincerely,
Nicholas A. Wolf


I rolled my eyes and stood up.

“Thanks for showing me that email, Vinnie,” I said. “I’ll call you when I’m
ready to leave later today.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I waited until he left the room, and headed over to Mr. Wolf’s office.

When I walked through the door, he looked up from his desk and smiled.

“I see you’ve re-considered my offer,” he said, holding up a manila envelope.
“Good decision.”

“I haven’t reconsidered anything.” I walked over and snatched it from his hand.
“I already gave you an answer.”

“You gave me the wrong answer.”

“I don’t want to marry you.”

“Hence the word, fiancée. And then, pretend.” He looked at me. “It’s only for
thirty days, and I’m willing to rewrite any part of the terms that you don’t like.
Minus the obvious fiancée part.”

“How much time do I have to read this?”

“As much as you like,” he said. “You just won’t be allowed to leave the building
until you do.”

I took a seat on his couch and pulled out the papers. “Did Brenton help you write
the contract, or did you attempt to write it yourself?”

“I wrote it myself. Why?”

I gave him a blank stare. “Because you tend to put sarcasm and personal
thoughts into every contract you write. That’s why I always have to go over
them long after you’re done.”

“I think you’ll be surprised,” he said, smirking. “I was pretty straightforward in
this one.”

“My answer is still no.”

“For now…”

 THE CONTRACT
(Thirty Day Service Agreement)


This service agreement (the “agreement”) dated this 20th day of October, 2017


BETWEEN

Nicholas A. Wolf of Wolf Industries
(the “boss”)

-AND-

Emily Nicole Johnson of Wolf Industries
(the “employee”)


BACKGROUND

A. THE BOSS is of the (factual) opinion that the employee has the necessary
qualifications, experience, and abilities to provide temporary services via private
arrangement.

B. THE EMPLOYEE is agreeable (at least she should be since her boss is being
so goddamn generous) to providing such service to the boss on the terms and
conditions set out in this agreement.

The agreement is as follows:


SERVICES PROVIDED

1. The employee hereby agrees to engage in a temporary “engagement” to her
boss which will last exactly thirty (30) days.

2. This arrangement will include public appearances, media sessions with both
national and local press (if necessary), and events with business associates. This
arrangement will NOT include any sexual activity, wedding activity, and/or any
other activities that will make the signee uncomfortable.


TERM OF AGREEMENT

3. The term of this agreement (the “term”) will begin (the second you sign
this—as you should) immediately and will remain in effect until the completion
of services.


4. In the event that either party breaches a provision under this agreement, the
non-defaulting party (me, more than likely, since I’m actually loyal to the things
I sign) may terminate the agreement and may seek reasonable damages against
the other party.


5. Confidentiality.

Both parties agree that they will not disclose, divulge, or reveal any information
regarding this arrangement. (We can negotiate the terms of you telling your
sister. I’ve attached a separate sheet for that.)


6. Performance.

Both parties agree to do everything necessary to ensure that the terms of this
agreement take effect.

7. Compensation.

THE BOSS will compensate the employee in the amount of five million dollars
(5,000,000.00 USD) upon completion of the arrangement. THE BOSS will also
terminate the employee’s current employment contract with Wolf Industries.

THE EMPLOYEE will compensate the boss with a verbal thank you. (“Thank
you for agreeing to this outrageous financial demand, and for hiring me when I
had little to no experience.”) She will also sign the attached form confirming
that, as of this morning, the boss has paid all her student loans and personal
debts in full. (You’re welcome.)

In witness whereof, the parties have duly affixed their signatures and under hand
and seal on this 20th day of October 2017.


__________________________
The Boss, Nicholas A. Wolf


___________________________
The Employee, Emily Nicole Johnson


 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY


I signed that contract in one second flat.

 FROM PAGE SIX
Celebrity & Wall Street Gossip Magazine

Waves of shock, confusion, and utter surprise are rolling through the halls of
every building that self-made billionaire Nicholas A. Wolf owns this morning.

The former Bachelor of the Year recently announced his engagement to his long-
time assistant, Emily Johnson.

The official company-wide memo, which was sent to thousands of employees,
stated that he had “fallen head over heels in love with the woman who has been
at [my] side for two years.”

The Wolf Industries mogul offered no further comment on what led him to
announce this heartbreaking decision for the millions of women in New York
City.

###

 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY

Day One


I woke up in a cold sweat, feeling as if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
There was a massive engagement ring on my ring finger, a stack of engagement
announcements on my nightstand, and a flock of paparazzi outside my
brownstone.

Today was supposed to be the first of thirty for me and Mr. Wolf (Well,
“Nicholas” now that I was his fiancée), and I wasn’t ready to embark on the
insane itinerary that Brenton planned. He’d updated it multiple times—
sometimes within the same hour, and he kept adding things that weren’t
necessary to land the Watson deal. At least, in my mind.

Sighing, I got out of bed and looked at the last edition of the itinerary I’d printed
at my office.


Subject: Thirty Day Boyfriend/Thirty Day Girlfriend (Some Reminders)

To the future “Mr. & Mrs. Wolf,”

I’m including a short itinerary and some things I NEED you both to make sure
you do while the press is watching so we can make sure that we A) Convince
Watson that Nicholas is a ‘family man’ B) Reform Nicholas’s image in the press
as a former playboy instead of a current one C) Secure the million-dollar bonus
that was promised to me if we land this deal!

Day 1-3:

Fly to Nicholas’s hometown of Blue Harbor and stay in The Four Seasons for a
couple nights before staying in the Wolf family estate.

Rehearse the “how we fell in love” story (I’ve sent you both multiple copies)

Do a few interviews with the welcoming press.

If you see cameras, kiss each other. If you don’t see cameras, kiss each other.

(Try to look deep into his eyes each time, Emily. Oh and Nicholas, try to lightly
rest your hand on her ass when you’re kissing so this can seem like a “hot”
relationship)

Day 4-20:

At some point Mr. Watson will fly in, and he will want to: A) play golf with
Nicholas B) Have dinner with the Wolf Family. C) Get a tour of all the Bed &
Breakfast villas that Nicholas’s brother co-owns with Nicholas’s mother. D) Sign
off on this damn deal we’ve worked on for MONTHS.

Day 21-30: We’ll return to New York, get a few more couple photos and
interviews done for the press. (if necessary)

Day 31: Amicable break-up.

Please don’t be late for your flight.
Brenton East
Special Advisor to CEO of Wolf Industries



I debated whether I wanted to go through with this or not, if it was too late for
me to back out. I’d told my sister I was still on the fence even though I signed
the contract without thinking twice.

I scrolled down to Nicholas’s name in my phone, but then I heard his voice in
my living room.

Opening my bedroom door, I saw him standing on the steps of my brownstone—
shaking his head at my sister. He was wearing a grey shirt that clung to his
muscles in all the right ways and a pair of dark lounge pants that exposed the
perfectly carved “V” below his hips.

“Where’s Emily?” he asked, impatient.

“I’m Emily.”

“You’re a very good lookalike, Jenna.”

“We’re identical.”

“Not to me.” He rolled his eyes. “Where is she?”

“In her room.” She let him in, betraying me within seconds.

“Where’s her luggage?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Her eyes met mine, and she smiled. “Morning, Em!”

I shook my head and stepped out of my bedroom. “Morning, Jenna. Nicholas.”

“Where’s your luggage?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I know damn well you’ve packed for our flight, Emily,” he said. “Where is your
luggage?”

“I’ve decided not to go.”

“You really need to get better at reading the terms in the contracts you sign.” He
looked around the room. “I’m only going to ask about your suitcase one more
time.”

“I’m not going,” I said. “The door is right behind—”

“Did you tell your asshole boss that you changed your mind about the—” Marah,
my sister’s best friend, stopped short as she entered the living room. She looked
Nicholas up and down, her cheeks reddening with every second that passed.
“Well, damn. Can I go in your place?”

“You wouldn’t want to,” I said, hating the way that Nicholas was staring at me
right now had made me wet. “He’s far worse than what anything I’ve ever told
you about on the phone.”

“You have twenty minutes to get ready,” he said to me. Then he extended his
hand to Marah, and then my sister. “I’m the asshole boss, but I prefer to go by
Nicholas.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Jenna smiled. “Her suitcase is already packed. It’s in the
hallway closet.”

What the fuck? I looked at her in utter shock, completely taken aback by her
betrayal.

I am definitely not standing in for her at that meet and greet next month…

“Thank you,” Nicholas said, walking over to the closet. “I’ll be waiting for you
in the car.” He left, and I waited until he’d walked down the steps.

“Why the hell would you do that to me, Jenna?”

“One, you’ve wanted to get out of your employment contract since the day you
signed it, and you’re going to get five million for doing this,” she said. “Two, it’s
only thirty days. And three, I think deep down you want to fuck him, and what
better way to get that done than this?”

“You’re delusional.” I headed into the bathroom. “I really don’t want to go
anymore.”

“Oh, please! You were grandstanding,” she said, following me. “That’s why you
bought a second plane ticket for later this morning. You just wanted him to think
you weren’t going because I personally think both of you have control issues.”
She put her hands on my shoulders. “Emily Nicole Johnson, this is only for
thirty days. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”


THE WOLF
Nicholas

Day One


Subject: Our flight

Have you somehow forgotten how to find your way back from the restroom?
Our flight is boarding in an hour.

Also, did you remember to bring the Wallace files?

--Nicholas


Subject: Re: Our flight

I’m in the bookstore and will come back to the gate when I feel like it. I know
it’s been awhile since you’ve flown with us “regular people,” but you don’t have
to wait at the gate for an hour if you don’t want to. (I don’t want to.)

How could I forget them? You sent me TWENTY emails about them this week.

--Emily


I groaned and placed my phone into my pocket.

The second Emily signed that contract, something shifted between us and the
sexual tension was higher than ever. We couldn’t get through a single
conversation without arguing, and we’d resorted to sending each other emails
about the simplest things.

“Why are we not taking my private jet for this trip, Brenton?” I looked up at
him. “We could have landed in Blue Harbor by now.”

“It’s because Mr. Watson isn’t a fan of exorbitant displays of wealth, and you
want to come off like a man who hasn’t forgotten where he came from.” He set
down his magazine. “You’ll survive the first-class cabin, I promise. Where’s
Mrs. Wolf?”

“Don’t call her that.” I rolled my eyes. “She’s in the bookstore.”

“Well, I hope you two were all smiles on the way here.” He lowered his voice.
“I’m pretty sure a few lifestyle editors from Page Six caught wind of this trip,
and they’re tailing you. That now means we have Town & Country, The New
York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and Market Watch who will be in and out of
Blue Harbor while you two are there. So, that means you and Emily are good,
right?”

I didn’t answer him. “Good” was a far cry from the word I would use to describe
us right now.

When I picked her up this morning—after she’d finally come down to my car,
she put a goddamn kitten onto my backseat. Something I never fucking agreed
to, and when I told her that she needed to leave it in New York, she refused to
come unless I changed my mind.

On the way to the airport, she became visibly upset when I told her she was still
responsible for completing her work while we were “engaged.” She blatantly
ignored me when I offered to stop and buy her breakfast. And when we arrived
at the departures level, she damn near screamed when she saw me tossing her
bag onto the security belt.

I honestly forgot her damn cat was in that bag…

“Good morning, Brenton.” She sat down in the chair across from us, holding the
green-eyed kitten in her lap. “How’s your morning?”

“It’s pretty good thus far. I’m just a little behind on my—” He stopped and
looked at us. “Okay, no. No, no, no.” He shook his head and faced me. “What
did you do to her?”

“I haven’t done anything to her.” Yet.

“Look, Nicholas. In addition to the Page Six people, there are two feature editors
from The New York Times on this flight.” He lowered his voice. “On. This.
Flight. Now, granted, they’ll be sitting several rows behind the two of you, but
the last thing we need is for them to see the two of you arguing on your first day.
I don’t want that clouding their story. Please just apologize for whatever you said
to Emily. Hell, try to use an endearment with it so you can get used to saying it
whenever you’re around other people.”

I cleared my throat and looked at Emily. “I apologize for whatever you think I
did to upset you, sweetheart.”

“You almost killed my cat.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Apology not
accepted, sweetheart.”

The damn cat hissed as if it understood what we were talking about.

“Emily…” Brenton let out a breath. “He’s apologized in his own terrible way, so
let’s ignore him for the next few seconds. There are editors from The New York
Times on this flight, and I know you of all people know what that means. Can
you pretend that you’re letting this go and just be the bigger person?”

“Seeing as though I am always the bigger person, that’s fine.”

“Great.” He stood to his feet. “I’m going to grab a cinnamon bun from the coffee
shop. Can I trust you two not to kill each other while I’m gone?”

We didn’t answer.

“Okay, well…” He sighed. “Just don’t talk to each other at all until I get back.”

“No problem,” we said in unison.

He stepped away, and I glared at Emily as she glared right back at me. Then I
slowly realized that these thirty days were going to be a lot harder than I
originally thought.

 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY

Day One


I should’ve never agreed to this arrangement…

I was still glaring at Nicholas as he glared at me. I was tempted to leave him and
his ridiculous business dealings behind, but my pride wouldn’t let me. That, and
the promise of ending my employment contract.

If he were my real fiancée, I would let my guard down and tell him that I was
still feeling upset about how our engagement leaked to the press before I was
able to spin a believable story to my coworkers. I would tell him about all the
hurtful “She’s not even that cute,” and “He’s dated hotter women than her,” posts
from strangers I’d seen on social media. How I felt completely unprepared and
overwhelmed by being thrust into the sudden spotlight with someone who was
beyond used to handling it.

The only silver lining in all this was that my parents hardly ever watched the
news or read magazines. I was clinging to the hope that they wouldn’t find out
about this charade until it was long over.

“Ladies and gentlemen who are assigned to Flight 6715 with service to Blue
Harbor, we are about to begin the boarding process here at GATE A17.”

I pulled my boarding pass out of my pocket and stared at the massive
engagement ring on my left hand. I shook my head every time I looked at it
because it was so over the top, gaudy, and unlike anything I’d ever consider
wearing. It was a four-carat diamond ring with glittering tiny pink diamonds
stuffed onto its double band.

I knew this arrangement was fake and temporary, and that the idea of Nicholas
ever remembering that I loved emeralds was a long shot, but I was a bit miffed
that he didn’t. Especially since I remembered almost everything that he’d ever
mentioned to me.

“Oh, great!” Brenton walked over to us. “You’re both still alive! Now, the flight
is only four hours, so can you try to keep this civility theme going without my
supervision?”

“Wait, what? Aren’t you sitting in the same row as us?” I asked.

“Ha! Please!” He laughed. “I don’t fly commercial, ever. Besides, I have all the
original and updated Watson contracts, and I need to keep them as safe as
possible. Don’t you think? I only bought a plane ticket so I could see you two off
together, but I’ll still meet you at baggage claim when you land.”

Nicholas shook his head at him, and I let out a sigh. It wasn’t until now that I’d
realized it, but Brenton had always been the perfect stabilizer between us over
the years, the necessary tool that kept us from killing each other.

Or, crossing the line…

“A reporter with Town & Country will serve as the first welcoming press in Blue
Harbor,” he said. “She’ll have a few minutes with you on the way to the hotel,
and we’ll worry about Mr. Watson and an updated itinerary later.”

“I would now like to invite all first-class passengers the aircraft at this time,” the
gate agent called over the speakers.

I tucked Luna into her bag and stood to my feet. I headed toward the boarding
door, but Brenton suddenly grabbed my hand from behind—forcing me to spin
around.

“Wait a minute,” he said, pulling a box from his pocket. “I meant to send this
one back to the jeweler. I forgot about it until just now.” He looked at Nicholas.
“Give her the right ring.”

Nicholas pulled a red ring box out of his pocket and flipped it open.

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t gasp, so he wouldn’t get any reaction from me, but
the one in his hand was exactly the type of ring I’d mentioned to him before. It
was a bright emerald ring with miniature diamonds around its clasp, and it was
surrounded by a simple silver band with my name etched onto the metal.

I twisted the gaudy ring off my finger and exchanged it for the simpler one.

“Thank you, Brenton,” I said.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, patting Nicholas on the back. “Thank your fiancé. He
called the jeweler and personally requested that particular design all by himself.
I’ll see you two in Blue Harbor.”

I muttered a soft “Thank you,” to Nicholas and he muttered a “You’re welcome”
in return.

We boarded the plane without saying another word to each other, and we both
requested scotch before takeoff.

As the alcohol burned its way down my throat, I decided to check my Wolf
Industries email account one last time.

Subject: I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HIM!
Subject: Seriously? After all this time, you’re marrying The Wolf?
Subject: TRAITER! TRAITER! TRAITER! TRAITERRRRR!
Subject: TRAITOR* (I misspelled it before) TRAITORRRRRR!

I didn’t bother opening any of them. I shut down my inbox and sighed.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” Nicholas asked.

I ignored him and asked the flight attendant for another shot of scotch. I downed
it within seconds and plugged in my iPod as the pilot announced he was
preparing for takeoff.

As the plane ascended into the sky, I shut my eyes and tried to get some sleep. It
was three songs later when I felt Nicholas gently pulling my left earbud from my
ear.

“Yes?” I opened my eyes.

“I need to talk to you about something important.”

“No.” I groaned. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until we get to Blue
Harbor. It’s probably about work anyway.”

“It’s about sex.”

I sat up—half confused, half aroused. “What?”

“I made some amendments to our contract last night,” he said, pulling the
stapled sheets from his briefcase. “I need your signature so we can both ensure
we’re on the same page.”

I gave him a blank stare, not wanting to ever look at the document that got me
into this situation again.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wolf?” The flight attendant stood in the aisle. “Would you like
something to—”

“We’re not married,” we said in unison, cutting her off at the same time.

“Um, okay,” She looked confused. “Well, soon to be wedded couple, who is
listed with the same last name on my manifest, can I get you something to
drink?”

I requested a scotch. He requested a ginger ale and coffee.

He leaned over me and pulled out my tray. Then he set the contract onto it and
flipped to the brand new “intimacy clause” he’d placed under the original clause
number two.

The flight attendant set down my scotch, but Nicholas lifted it up and handed me
the ginger ale instead. I leaned over and took away the sugar packets she’d given
him with his coffee.

Sliding my reading glasses over my face, I held the contract a bit closer.

2. This arrangement will include public appearances, media sessions with both
national and local press, and events with business associates. This arrangement
will NOT include any sexual activity, wedding activity, and/or any other
activities that will make the signee uncomfortable.

2a. Intimacy Clause Amendment. THE BOSS is allowed to engage in sexual
activity (if he finds a willing partner who he is sexually attracted to during this
term) and he will keep this activity private from the aforementioned press and
the employee. THE EMPLOYEE is NOT allowed to engage in sexual activity
with anyone else (preferably ever), and she will notify the boss if she is ever
tempted to step outside of this agreement and pursue (contract-breaking)
relations.

What the fuck?

I was certain that I was reading this incorrectly. That there was a misprint
somewhere between the first and last lines of all the bullshit, but after rereading
it multiple times, I realized that he meant every word.

“Here’s the pen.” He placed it onto my tray. “Feel free to sign at any time.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I asked.

The couple seated across from us gasped at my outburst.

“Nicholas…” I lowered my voice. “Please tell me that this is a joke.”

“Your cat resting beneath my feet right now is a joke.” He rolled his eyes. “This
is the best way that we can get through these next few weeks without the tension
getting any worse.”

“You can have sex, but I can’t? How is that fair?”

“Because you haven’t had sex since you broke up with that waste of a boyfriend
you were seeing a year and a half ago. And seeing as though you always came
into work with the ability to walk straight every morning, you’ve clearly never
been fucked right, so this amendment doesn’t really affect you.”

Ugh! I pushed the contract to the floor and unbuckled my seatbelt. I moved the
tray away and rushed to the restroom so I could scream in peace.

Before I could shut the door, Nicholas stepped inside and locked the door behind
him.

“Get out of the bathroom right now before I scream.”

“You won’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not your style.”

“Try me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “I can re-word some of that clause if it bothers you this
much.”

“There will be no sex for you or me during this entire ordeal. I know you’re
secretly dating Samantha Hendrix the supermodel—i.e., Miss Private Phone
Calls Every Monday, but surely she’s aware of our engagement by now. She can
survive without swallowing your cock down her throat for a couple weeks.”

“I didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth.” He trailed his fingers against my
throat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about in regard to Samantha,
though.”

“I don’t want to know.” I felt another pang of jealousy in my chest. “I’m not
signing that clause and I’d appreciate it if you would drop it. Forever. You’re
making it very hard for me to be the bigger person right now.”

“You honestly think you’re the bigger person?” He closed what little remained of
the gap between us, pressing his chest against mine.

“Yes. I think I’m the only one who knows how to behave like an adult. You’re a
goddamn man-child, and I can’t wait until this is over so I’ll never have to see
your face again.”

“Is that so?” He slipped his hands around my waist, roughly splaying his hand
against my hips and making my knees go weak.

“Yes. That is very so.”

“Hmmm.” His lips brushed against mine. “Well, that’s quite unfortunate. I
honestly don’t want to argue with you for the entirety of the trip.”

“Then stop being an asshole.”

“Stop treating me like one. Unless…” His voice trailed off, and I was pretty
certain that the hard, thick bulge that was now pressed against my thigh was his
cock.

“Unless what?” I whispered, feeling it harden even more.

“Unless that’s what you really think of me…” His lips were so close to mine that
I could taste them. He looked as if he was about to kiss me, but a loud knock on
the door made him pull back.

“Hey, guys!” It was a female’s voice. “It’s your flight attendant, and I know there
are two of you in there. Please come on out.”

He let me go, and I opened the door.

One out at a time.” The flight attendant shook her head. “There’s no mile-high
club on this flight.”

Nicholas motioned for me to go first, and I returned to my seat under the
dimmed cabin lights.

I buckled my seatbelt and placed the unsigned contract on Nicholas’s seat. I
made sure Luna was still okay, and then I plugged in my earbuds once more
before trying to get some sleep.

A few minutes later, Nicholas pulled out my left earbud again.

“Yes?” I looked at him.

“That wasn’t the only clause I made an amendment to.” He smirked and handed
me that damn contract. “Perhaps you’ll agree to one of the others.”

I looked down at the paper, saw the words “Second Intimacy Clause
Amendment (just in case “the employee” rejects the first),” and lost my shit.

 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY

Day One
(Yes, it’s STILL Day One)



I rushed off the plane once the flight attendant opened the door, and slid a pair of
shades over my face. The last thing I wanted the welcoming press to see was
how pissed off I looked right now.

I slipped into the closest restroom and splashed my face with cold water. I took
several deep breaths and tried to calm myself down after hours of arguing with
Nicholas.

We literally argued the entire flight…

If this was day one, there was no way I was making it to day thirty. Hell, I would
be lucky if I made it to day ten at this rate.

When I was sure I was calm enough to face the world again, I slung Luna’s bag
over my arm and left the restroom. Nicholas was standing in the hallway waiting
for me.

He looked as upset as I was, but he gently pulled my carryon bag from my hands
and rolled it by his side as we walked to baggage claim.

During all the previous trips we’d taken together for business, there’d always
been tension between us, but not like this. Never like this.

At the baggage carousel, Brenton rushed over to us and clapped his hands. “Ah!
There you two are!” he said. “Watson will arrive a little later than planned since
he wanted to spend a couple more days with his niece, so we have some
additional time to prepare.”

“Where is the welcoming press?” I asked.

“They’ll be here in a day or so. In the meantime, I have the Town & Country
reporter waiting for you in the SUV. She wants to do a short prep interview
before your more in-depth interview later this week. Are you up for that?”

He didn’t give us a chance to answer. Instead, he launched into another set of
things we needed to do—local events, interviews, staged photos.

I tuned out his voice as we approached the tinted SUV. I offered my seat to the
Town & Country reporter so I wouldn’t have to sit next to Nicholas, but he
slipped his hand around my waist and positioned me next to him anyway.

“The Four Seasons, correct?” the driver asked.

“Correct,” Brenton said. “Mya, you can ask as many questions that can fit into
this four-minute drive.”

“Thank you.” She clicked her pen and smiled at Nicholas. “Well, I guess I’ll cut
straight to the chase and start with you, Mr. Wolf. Given your previous
reputation in Page Six, we were quite surprised to hear about your engagement.
When did you know your fiancée was the one?”

“Ask me something else.” His voice was clipped.

“Um.” Her cheeks reddened. “Sure. Are there plans for a wedding as of yet?”

“I don’t like that question either.”

She glanced nervously at Brenton, who looked as if he was about to have a heart
attack. “Well, um… Can you give us a little insight on how you proposed to
Emily?”

“I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. She said yes.”

Silence.

Brenton let out a forced laugh and clasped the reporter’s hand. “They’ve had a
really long flight, and there was lots of turbulence. Can we pick up here during
your assigned interview time slot? I can guarantee that he’ll be far more upbeat
by then.”

“Absolutely.” She shut her notepad and looked down at her hands while Brenton
glared at Nicholas.

When the SUV pulled into the turnaround at The Four Seasons, the reporter
rushed out of the car without saying a word.

I started to get up, but Brenton shook his head at me. Then he asked the driver to
get out so he could talk to us in private.

“Okay, look.” His tone was firm. “I’m not sure what the hell has happened
between you two over the past few days, but you need to get the hell over it and
fast. You only have to put up with each other for twenty-nine more days, and I
would think that after working so closely with each other for two years that this
would be a fucking breeze.” He snapped his fingers. “There are five billion
dollars with a new CEO image, an employee termination contract, and my
fucking million-dollar bonus on the line. How hard could it be to pretend that
you fucking like each other? Get it together. Now.”

He opened the doors, and Nicholas helped me out of the car.

Still not saying a word to each other, we followed the bellhop onto the elevator
and took it straight up to the penthouse suite.

When the bellhop left us alone, Nicholas sighed. “There are four bedrooms in
this suite. You can have whichever one you like. Luna can have his own room if
he would like as well.”

“Luna is a she.”

“Luna is a cat.” He rolled his eyes and took off his shirt, revealing his perfect set
of six-pack abs. “There’s a small park outside if you want to take her there
before we go to my family’s house this week.”

“Will we have our own bedrooms there as well?”

“I doubt it.” He stepped into the bathroom suite. “We’ll probably share my old
room.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“We’ll see.”

I shook my head and followed him. “I need you to promise me that you’ll sleep
on the couch or—” I hesitated when I stepped into the bathroom, noticing that he
was now only wearing a towel around his waist.

“Trust me,” he said, looking me up and down. “I’ll sleep on my goddamn
balcony if it means I won’t have to argue with you. If I’d known you’d change
so quickly after a proposal, I would’ve continued holding auditions.”

“You never proposed.” I rolled my eyes. “You wrote a contract. And you’ve
changed as well.”

“My patience level hasn’t.”

“You know what?” I held up my hands in a show of surrender. “I’m going to do
my best to play this sweet, caring fiancée role for the remainder of our
agreement. I’m going to continue being the bigger person.”

“That’s what you really think you are?” He smirked. “The bigger person?”

Why is he always so tempting when he smirks like that?

“Yes.” I crossed my arms. “I think I’ve always been the—”

The rest of my sentence stalled on my tongue as he dropped his towel to the
floor, as I caught sight of his massive cock for the first time.

I felt my jaw dropping as my mind attempted to make sense of what I was
seeing.
OH. MY. GOD.

He’s definitely nine inches…

I cleared my throat and tried to look away from him and his cock, to pick up
right where I left off, but I couldn’t.

“You were saying?” he asked. “Something about you being the bigger person in
this relationship?”

I couldn’t get a single word to fall out of my mouth if I tried. I could only blush
and stare.

Noticing my speechlessness, he smiled and slowly picked up his towel. “For the
record,” he said, “I’m always open to adding an intimacy clause, with you…” He
looked me over one last time and stepped into the shower.

Twenty-nine more days. Twenty-nine more days…

 THE WOLF
Nicholas

Day Two


Subject: Itinerary Change + Your Family…

Nicholas,

Watson would like to join you and “Mrs. Wolf” at your family’s house as an
overnight guest for a few days this week since all the Blue Harbor hotels are
booked. I’ve told him you already said yes, so you’re welcome.

ALSO: I thought you said you wanted to take pictures with Emily today? Why
did you text me that you don’t want to do it until tomorrow?

Email me back ASAP.

Brenton East
Special Advisor to CEO of Wolf Industries


Subject: From Your Mom…Again :-)

Nicholas!

I can’t believe it takes you getting engaged to come home to see us! I’m sure
your father is looking down and shaking his head in utter disbelief since
(between you and me) he didn’t think you would ever get married.

Anyway, as I told you before, the house will be ready for you, your guests, and
your lovely fiancée tomorrow. We’ve added two new additions that we can’t
wait to show you. Oh, and your brother has installed bear nets around the
property to keep the paparazzi as far away as possible.

I’m really looking forward to meeting your future wife! In fact, I’m avoiding all
news reports, and I’m not talking about the occasion with anyone here so I can
size her up for myself.

Love you and see you soon,
Mom

PS—I’m sure I’ll love her, whoever she is, but…a part of me is hoping it’s your
EA, Emily…

PSS—Is it Emily? :-)



It’s way too early for this shit…

I closed my inbox and got out of bed. I walked over to my bedroom windows
and pulled the drapes open, catching the sun’s slow rise above Blue Harbor’s
mountains.

The only thing on my agenda today was making sure that everything back in
New York was running smoothly and that the other deals with the non-intrusive
and non-family-oriented CEOs were still going through as planned.

Out of habit, I did the first thing I did any other morning—scrolled down to
Emily’s name and called her.

“Yes?” she answered on the first ring.

“At what point can I expect the morning updates?” I looked at my watch. “Do
you want to give them to me on the balcony or in the living room?”

“Excuse me?”

“We talked about this,” I said. “I made it perfectly clear that just because we’re
engaged doesn’t mean that you don’t have to do any work. So, do you want to
give me the morning updates on the balcony or in the living room?”

She hung up in my face.

She didn’t answer my calls or my text messages for the rest of the day.


 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY

Day Three


I tugged at the petals of a centerpiece, distracting myself from today’s tenth
interview. Since seven o’clock this morning, I’d sat next to Nicholas in a cold
conference room, answering questions for a revolving door of reporters.

Most of the questions so far were about Wolf Industries, and I was hoping it
would stay that way. The few that did address our personal lives were light and
simple: Why send a company memo about the engagement? How long have you
two been in love? Will you continue working for Mr. Wolf once you’re married?

I was only halfway paying attention to the questions at this point. I was still
having a hard time getting the images of Nicholas’s cock out of my mind. Last
night (and the night before), I’d fantasized about him fucking me for hours, all
while burying my fingers deep in my pussy and whispering his name into my
pillow.

Even though I’d been giving him the silent treatment since yesterday morning, I
knew that being so close to him outside of the office was already becoming a
problem. I’d never been so on edge, and he was driving my hormones into a
heated frenzy.

“Thank you two so much for your time,” the reporter from The Wall Street
Journal suddenly stood to his feet. “I hope you’ll allow my team and me another
interview in a couple of months after you’re back from your honeymoon.”

“Of course,” Nicholas said, shaking his hand.

“Since I’m the last interviewer, can I take a picture of you two for my piece,
sir?” he asked. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble that is.”

“That’s up to the future Mrs. Wolf,” he said, looking at me. “She’s been giving
me the silent treatment since yesterday morning, so you may want to ask her.”

I kicked him under the table and smiled at the reporter. “I’d love to take a photo
for your piece. The lighting is better outside, though. Do you mind if we step out
there?”

“Not at all.”

I shot Nicholas a look, and I stood up. As we walked to the door, he placed his
hand on the small of my back, instantly setting my nerves on fire.

“Where are you two going?” Brenton stood up from a bench as we stepped
outside.

“The Wall Street Journal wants to take our photo,” Nicholas said.

“Oh, good! This is the perfect opportunity for you to finally kiss each other,
then. I think that would be a great first photo, especially with this publication.
Just make it look believable, please."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all…” I said.

“And why is that?” Nicholas looked down at me.

“Because he said it needs to be believable." I lied, knowing it was a brilliant idea
and that I wanted to do it. “I also still need a few more days—actually weeks, to
forget that you’re my boss…and an asshole.”

“Right here is good!” The reporter turned around and set up his tripod. “Could
you two back up a bit and stand a little closer to the fountain? And sorry,
Brenton, but I don’t really need you in this one.”

Nicholas kept his hand on the small of my back, and I forced a smile.

The reporter adjusted his lens a few more times and then he held up his fingers.
“Snapping your picture in three…two…”

Before he could reach one, Nicholas spun me around and pulled me against his
chest. He stamped his mouth over mine—kissing me so deep, and suddenly I
forgot to breathe.

I murmured as he threaded his fingers through my hair to keep me close, as he
silently coaxed me to open my mouth so he could take this kiss even further.

Obliging, I parted my lips, and he slipped his tongue deeper into my mouth. He
never let me change the tempo, never let me gain control. His lips owned mine,
and there was no sense in me trying to fight it.

A soft moan escaped my mouth and I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep
my balance.

I tried to ignore the feel of his cock hardening through his pants, but the more he
kissed me, the tighter he held me against him.

I was convinced he was seconds away from fucking me right here, right now, but
he suddenly bit down hard on my bottom lip and tore away from my mouth.
Then he whispered, “I think that should help you forget that I’m your boss…And
an asshole…”

Struggling to catch my breath, I looked over at the photographer and Brenton.
Brenton was miming a round of applause and mouthing, “Bravo! Yes!” while the
photographer was standing there open-mouthed as if he couldn’t believe
Nicholas had just done that.

“Did you get the shot?” Nicholas grabbed my hand and walked me over to him.
“We’d be happy to do that again, if not.”

“No, sir. I definitely um…I definitely got that.”

“Good.” He looked at Brenton. “I think me and my fiancée are going to head to
my family’s house now.”

“Okay, sounds good. Your driver is all set to go with your luggage and Luna. I’ll
meet you two there in an hour if you don’t mind.”

“We don’t.” Nicholas kept my hand in his as we returned to the hotel. He
whispered for me to “keep looking straight ahead,” and we walked through the
flashes and shuttering clicks of reporters’ cameras in the lobby.

Leading me to a waiting black SUV, he opened the back door for me and helped
me inside.

“Emily?” he said my name as the driver pulled onto the road.

I didn’t answer. I just kept my gaze forward. My heart was beating so loudly that
I was sure he could hear it, and I knew my cheeks were still beet red.

That was definitely the dirtiest kiss I’ve ever had…

“Emily?” He placed his fingers under my chin and gently turned me toward him.

“Yes?”

“I need you to rescind your silent treatment for the rest of this trip. I know it’s
only been a day, but I’m not used to not talking to you for that long.”

“Well, if that’s how you truly feel, then I need you to at least say—”

He pressed a finger against my mouth before I could finish. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” My eyes widened. I’d never heard him say those two words, whether he
was in the wrong or not.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly. “I didn’t mean what I wrote in the amendment,
and you don’t have to do any work while we’re engaged. I also wasn’t trying to
kill your cat at the airport. I just don’t want us to argue—as much, while we’re
here.”

“So, no more last-minute amendments?” I asked.

“Only if you’d like to address clause two in regard to the two of us fucking.” He
smirked. “That’s always on the table.”

“Noted.” I smiled as he took my hand in his again. “Apology accepted.”



Half an hour later, the SUV parked in front of a massive estate that was settled
against the edge of Blue Harbor’s trademark lake. The house was built in three
huge parts, all connected by a glass walkway with a perfect view of the town.
From what I could see from here, the back yard was acre after acre of lush green
grass with roaming white horses.

The driver began pulling our things out of the trunk, and Nicholas’s mother—a
grey-haired former beauty queen, walked out of the front door.

“You’re finally here!” She wrapped her arms around Nicholas and hugged him
tightly. “It’s so good to see you! I thought you were going to make me wait
another five years!”

“I see you every week.”

“A weekly video chat is not the same as a visit, Nicholas.” She let him go and
pulled me into a hug. “And you are marrying Emily!” she said. “It is so nice to
see you in person after only getting your emails and phone updates these past
two years.” She hugged me a bit tighter and whispered. “He talks about you all
the time.”

I didn’t get a chance to process her words. A piercing loud, “Uncle Nick-O-
Lassss! Uncle Nick-O-Lassss!” scream came from inside the house. Within
seconds, a toddler dressed in all pink rushed through the front door and jumped
right into his arms.

“I’m shocked she even remembers you.” His older brother Nathan leaned against
the doorframe. “It’s not like you ever come home to see her.”

“I just clear out my schedule to video chat with her every Monday.” Nicholas
rolled his eyes, but he smiled at the little girl.

She kissed his cheek and looked at me. “I’m Samantha! What’s your name?”

“Emily.” I suddenly felt silly for assuming his Mondays were always clear for
the other Samantha. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

"I know!" She jumped down and peered into Luna’s bag. Then she gasped. “A
kitty! Can I play with it, Uncle Nick-O-Lass?”

“We’ll see.” Nicholas picked her up before she could open the latch. “A little
later. You want to help us get to our room?”

She nodded and began telling him about her day at school.

Smiling, his mother motioned for us to follow her into the house. As she
entertained Nicholas and Samantha’s conversation, I held back a gasp each time
we walked through a different room.

This house is incredible…

“Here’s where you two will be staying.” His mother opened the door to a
massive suite with a lakefront-view balcony. There was a king-sized bed right
across from the windows, a seating area near the open doors of the bathroom,
and a glass wall cabinet that was stock-full of wine.

“Emily, feel free to call me Liz. Let me know if you need anything once you get
settled in,” she said, taking a frowning Samantha from Nicholas’s arms. “I’ll
have a light dinner and drinks waiting for you two in the kitchen whenever
you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” we said in unison, watching her walk away and shut the door.

“I’ll take the couch as you requested,” Nicholas said. “And you can have the
bed. There’s only one bathroom in this suite, but there’s another one right down
the hall. I’ll give you a tour after you call your sister.”

“What makes you think I need to call Jenna right now?”

“Because I’ve traveled with you on twenty-seven other trips,” he said, heading
toward the door. “You tell her fucking everything minutes after it happens. So,
seeing as though I kissed you in public an hour ago, and your phone keeps
vibrating with her signature ringtone, I think you should just get it over with.”
He smiled and walked into the hallway. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

 THE WOLF
NICHOLAS

Day Four (& Five)


I paced my balcony at seven o’clock in the morning, completely restless. I hadn’t
been able to sleep since I woke up and saw Emily walking across our bedroom
to the bathroom, bare-ass naked. Again.

At first, I thought it was a one-time, accidental thing. But this last instance was
her fifth time within the same hour. She’d looked over her shoulder each time,
right at where I was on the couch, and smiled.

Her body was even sexier than I thought, and that was a problem. I’d been
restraining myself as best I could, ever since that staged kiss with the
photographer. But if she kept this shit up, I wasn’t going to last too much longer.

I wonder what her pussy tastes like…

I contemplated the thought for several minutes. Then I continued to pace across
the balcony.

The main reason why I couldn’t sleep was quite obvious, though. I was still
wired to the time on Wall Street, still used to waking up at six thirty and starting
a day that didn’t end until eleven thirty. I wasn’t used to starting this many
mornings in a row without the sight of Emily walking into my office in one of
her attention-grabbing dresses, or hearing the raspy sound of her voice over the
phone saying, “Good morning, Mr. Wolf. I have the updates for you.”

I was dreading the line-up of new executive assistant interviews that Brenton
was lining up for me when we returned to New York. If his selection of eligible
candidates in the past was any indication, I was better off staying in Blue Harbor
forever and letting my niece run Wolf Industries on my behalf.

I debated whether I should call my secretary and assign her the job of piecing
together my updates for today, but the sight of Emily stepping out onto the
balcony in her robe made me lose my train of thought.

“Good morning, Mr. Wolf.” She smiled at me as she held up her cell phone. “I
have today’s updates for you.”

“I told you that you didn’t have to work while we’re engaged.”

“Well, seeing as though I can’t sleep with you out here mumbling ‘my goddamn
updates’ to yourself, I figured this would be best for the both of us.”

“I’m listening.”

“The Claxton, Yarbrough, and Hamilton deals were all confirmed with flying
colors by the board. The finalization papers will be sitting on your desk when
you get back, unless you’re that impatient and you want me to have someone
ship it here overnight for your signature.”

“I don’t think I’m that impatient.”

“Good.” She swiped her screen. “So, you won’t care that I already booked a
flight for an intern to fly them here for you today?”

I smiled.

“Your CFO has held four meetings with the market team as of today, but none of
them were essential.” She swiped her screen again. “Your PR team is working
overtime on the Hensley project, and at some point this week, you’ll need to
glance over the hard copy of the updated Rand & Cross proposal that I’ll have
air-mailed here once it’s completed.”

“Rand & Cross accepted my first bid?”

“They did.” She moved her phone away and motioned for me to follow her back
into our suite. “Oh, and The Annual Wall Street Charity Gala has confirmed that
you’ll be receiving an honor, so expect a visit from your tailor on your first day
back in New York.”

“Thank you, Emily.” I resisted the urge to fuck her on the spot and returned to
the couch.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Wolf. Unfortunately, you’ll have to find one hell of a
replacement over the next few weeks.”

“It’s very unfortunate. Is there any way I can convince you to work for me past
this contract? You could consider staying for the full four years of your original
contract.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about one more year? Double pay.”

“Never.”

“Then what about you stop fucking with me by walking across this room ass-
naked every hour in the middle of the night?”

“Why? Are you feeling tempted to kiss me?”

“I’m feeling tempted to fuck you.”

THE WOLF
NICHOLAS

Day Six (& Seven) (& Eight) (& Nine)

MY BROTHER: Brenton put you up to this sudden, fake family-visit shit, didn’t
he?
MY BROTHER: Just be fucking honest w/me. Are you and Emily real or is this
another Brenton/Wall Street production for a soulless business deal of yours?

“Give me your phone,” Emily said, reaching for it as I deleted the latest text
from my brother. “We’re supposed to be rehearsing the story about how we fell
in love today, and all you’ve done is check your messages.”

“All you’ve done is lounge on my boat for four days straight.” I set my phone
down and looked at her. She was sprawled on the floor in a bright red sundress,
halfway watching Samantha tease Luna with a blue yoyo right across from us.

“Me spending three days on your boat is not the point, Nicholas.”

“Then what is?”

“Watson will be here tomorrow.” She adjusted her shades. “And you need to
make a good impression so you can close the deal.”

“I’m aware.”

“Do you already have our love story memorized, then?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m going to wing it.”

“So, you do have it memorized.” She laughed and lay on the floor of the boat
again, looking up at the sky. “I look forward to hearing your dramatic
interpretation.”

I stared at her as the sun rays shone against her face. Against my better
judgment, I took a few photos of her with my phone.

“I need to ask you something,” I said.

“I’m listening.”

“What made you think I was dating Samantha Hendrix?”

“It was all over Page Six, and everyone was talking about it.”

“What were they saying?”

“The usual,” she said, her voice soft. “That you were clearly in the running for
Bachelor of the Year again, and that she was another supermodel notch on your
belt.”

“How interesting.”

“Is it?” She rolled over on her stomach.

“It is.”

“Is it true?”

“No.” I moved down to the floor, pulling her between my legs. “Surely you
knew that already.”

“You had quite the reputation when I came to work for you,” she said. “I
wouldn’t be surprised. You can travel whenever and wherever you want, and you
can date whoever you want.”

“Name one trip over the past year and a half where you weren’t with me.” I
trailed my finger against her lips. “Then name a time when I’ve mentioned
dating someone else to you.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything but…” She was quiet for several minutes. “I
honestly can’t think of one.”

“Because there honestly isn’t one.” I pulled her close and kissed her until long
after sunset, wishing we were on this damn boat alone.

 THE ASSISTANT
EMILY

Day Ten


My lips were still swollen from the way Nicholas kissed me on the boat
yesterday. I was hoping he would finally give in to my not-so-subtle walks to the
bathroom in the middle of the night, but all he’d done was playfully slap my ass
on my return trip to the bed. And laugh.

Tonight, unfortunately, was the start of “true business.” We were currently sitting
across from his mother, his brother, and Brenton, as our guest of honor—Mr.
Watson, told the most boring story I’d ever heard.

He arrived in Blue Harbor yesterday, and he’d instantly taken control of this trip.
He took Nicholas golfing in the morning (“I can tell a lot about a businessman
by the way he golfs”), treated me and Liz to a private brunch (“I want to talk to
the two women who know the man behind the deal”), and insisted on a tour of
Blue Harbor via boat because he “just wanted to see if Nicholas was a true
sailor.” (He was.)

“So, then I turned to my CFO and said, I don’t think so!” Mr. Watson ran his
hand through his graying hair. “That’s my family day!”

Brenton let out a forced laugh, and the rest of us just stared at him—unsure if
that was the end of his never-ending story or the unfortunate prologue for
another.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, standing up from his chair. “Is there a place I can
smoke my cigar before dessert?”

“Me too.” Brenton stood as well.

“I’ll show you two to the landing,” Liz said, lifting Samantha from her chair. She
walked by me and lowered her voice. “Do you mind if Luna sleeps with
Samantha tonight? She wanted me to ask you.”

“I don’t mind.” I smiled.

“I’ll be right back, and we’ll get to dessert then.”

She led the men far down the hall, and Nathan cursed under his breath.

“So, is this the part where we’re supposed to continue serving as your props for
this Watson dude?” Nathan tossed his napkin onto the table. “You never
answered my emails about this trip, Nicholas.”

“And I don’t ever plan to.”

“Then I guess I was right.” He stood up from the table. “Our father would be
ashamed of you right now, just so you know. He’s probably rolling around in his
grave, beyond disappointed in what you’ve become.”

“What exactly have I become?”

“Another fucking suit.” He looked at me. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll pass
on playing the role of the loving big brother tonight. I suggest you do the same,
Emily. I’m sure he dragged you into this bullshit pretend-show somehow.” He
left the house and slammed the door on his way out.

Nicholas clenched his jaw and squeezed my hand under the table.

“Do you need to get some air?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. He remained still, squeezing my hand every few seconds,
cursing in between.
By the time Brenton, Liz, and Watson returned to the table he’d snapped back
into business mode.

“What day do you want to look over the final paperwork again, Mr. Watson?”
He didn’t even bother asking Liz and me to step away while they discussed
things. “I won’t be in Blue Harbor too much longer, and I’d like to spend more
time with my fiancée.”

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Well, I really haven’t had that much time to
look over all the paperwork.”

“You’ve had over six months…” Nicholas and I muttered softly, in unison.

Brenton shot us both a look from across the table.

“Well, I guess I could take the next five or six days to look at them. I’ll just need
you to come golfing with me a few more times so I can make sure I’m making
the right decision.”

Nicholas refrained from rolling his eyes. “Whatever you like, Mr. Watson.”

“Oh! Well, one thing I would like is a story from you.”

“A story?”

“Yes. The story of how you the lovely Miss Emily fell in love.” He crossed his
arms. “That says a lot about a man as well.”

“It was love at first sight,” Nicholas said. “The end.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Give me one second.” He looked at me and lifted the glass of wine from my
hands, handing me a glass of water. He lowered his voice. “Is this your third or
your fourth one?”

“Fifth.”

He glanced at his watch, and then he cleared his throat. “I fell in love with Emily
when…”

When we were working in Paris on a new project…Stick to the script. Stick to the
script.

“It was one weekend in particular when it started,” he said. “It was a Friday
night, and we were working late during a snowstorm. It must’ve been one
o’clock in the morning by the time we realized it. Since there was a winter
weather advisory for like three days, I told her she was welcome to take my
bedroom in my penthouse, and I would sleep in my living room.

I turned to face him as he spoke. This wasn’t the story that Brenton made us
rehearse at all. This was something that had actually happened between us.
Something that was pretty damn recent.

“She um—” He paused, smiling. “She insisted that she stay in the living room
with me because she’d heard about my past reputation. So, we spent the entire
night talking about absolutely nothing in front of my fireplace while watching
the snow fall over New York.”

In the morning, you made me breakfast…

“In the morning, I made her breakfast, and we spent the second day locked
inside. But later that day we did sit on my balcony.”

“In the middle of a snowstorm?” Mr. Watson asked. “Why?”

“It was her idea,” he said. “After I gave her a tour, she told me that she couldn’t
believe I hardly ever used my balcony. Then she said—”

How many people can say they’ve had hot coffee on top of New York in the
middle of a snowstorm? You have to do it with me…

“How many people can say they’ve had hot coffee on top of New York in the
middle a snowstorm?” He remembered my words verbatim. “I couldn’t let her
do that alone, so we had about four cups together on the balcony.”

“And you knew right then you loved her?”

“No, I knew I loved her on the third day,” he said. “When she still refused to
take my bed, and told me that she wasn’t going to do any more work until the
storm was over...But an hour later, we were side by side in my kitchen—working
silently as if it was any other weekend.”

“A fellow workaholic?” He smiled. “So, it was the fact that she worked just like
you during the storm, and had such great work ethic that sealed the deal for
you?”

“No,” Nicholas said. “It was the fact that I didn’t take one phone call or answer a
single text message the entire weekend she was with me. I didn’t want to talk to
anyone else. She was all I needed.”

I sat still in complete and utter shock. I wasn’t sure if he took the truth and
twisted it to fit our fake narrative, or if he’d felt something that weekend like I
did and simply repressed it because it was inappropriate.

“Well, that’s a lovely story son!” Liz clapped, while Watson nodded in
agreement. “So sweet!”

“Um. Wow…” Brenton leaned back in his chair and blinked, looking just as
stunned and speechless as I was. “I think I need another drink. ASAP.”

“Let’s have one with another smoke,” Watson suggested, standing. “I think I’ll
retire for the night after this one, though. I’ll see you all at breakfast. Thank you
for a wonderful dinner, Liz.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled, then looked at us. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”

Nicholas briefly let go of my hand and helped me out of my chair without saying
a word. He slipped his hand around my waist and walked me back to our room.

The second he shut the door, I stared at him—waiting for an explanation about
what he’d said at dinner.

He didn’t give one, though. He just pulled me against him and pressed his lips
against mine, kissing the shit out of me. But when I opened my mouth and
begged him to take the kiss further, he let out a soft laugh.

Then he gently pushed me away and walked me over to the bed. “For the record,
if you weren’t tipsy and thirty minutes away from a headache, I would be
fucking you against my wall right now.”

“If I told you I was wet, would you change your mind?”

“No.” He kissed the back of my neck and lifted me onto the mattress. “You’ll be
sleeping within an hour since you’re the definition of a lightweight. When did
you drink the other glasses?”

“Right before you and Watson came back for dinner.

“I figured.” He pulled the sheets over me.

“You should really join me right now.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Are you scared I’ll finally tempt you to fuck me?”

“I’ve been tempted to fuck you since the day we met. So, when I do finally fuck
you, I would prefer if you had all your energy.” He kissed me and hit the lights.
“You’re going to need it.”
 THE WOLF
Nicholas

Day Eleven (& Twelve)


BRENTON: Was that story at dinner yesterday true or did you make that up?
ME: Why does it matter? Aren’t you at lunch with Watson?
BRENTON: It doesn’t. And I am. (Where the hell are YOU right now? He’s
asking about you!)
ME: Exactly. (Tell him I’ve decided to spend the next two days with my
fiancée…)
BRENTON: Oh, God.

 THE ASSISTANT
Emily

Day Thirteen


I wasn’t sure why I never connected these dots earlier, why I never paid too
much attention to the “S. Birthday Account” that always showed up on the books
this time of year. I’d glanced at the outrageous expense details here or there,
thinking they must be quotes and not actual receipts, but now I knew for sure.

“Do you really think you’re sending your niece the right message by getting her
a pony, a DJ, and a pink mini-convertible for her fourth birthday?”

“That’s what she asked for,” Nicholas said. Then he pointed out the window,
where she and a group of her friends were gathered around Luna with bright
yarn. “I clearly should’ve bought her a kitten and saved a shit-ton. How much do
you want to sell Luna for?”

I hit his arm and laughed. “She’s not for sale.”

He grabbed my hand and led me through a crowd of parents and other party
guests, heading straight for the kitchen. The DJ was now setting up for his third
set on the side lawn, so it was his mother’s turn to watch over the kids from the
window.

When we made it into the kitchen, he pulled me into a corner—looking as if he
was about to kiss me, but we were interrupted.

“Still trying to buy love, I see.” It was Nathan.

Nicholas turned around to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Samantha is being raised by me—a single parent, and of course you think you
can swoop in here for a week or two and fix everything with money and fucking
ponies.”

“She asked for the goddamn pony.”

“Every little girl asks for a pony, Nick.” He snapped. “That doesn’t mean you
fucking give it to them. And no one told you it was okay to throw this over the
top party, which I’m sure is just another show for Watson.”

“Watson is spending his time on the tourist side of Blue Harbor today.”

“How convenient.” He shrugged. “Just like this engagement which aligns with
Watson’s family-oriented priorities. I read about him and saw he’s never closed a
deal with a man who wasn’t engaged or married. You wouldn’t know anything
about that, would you?”

Nicholas didn’t answer.

“I surely hope you haven’t bought into anything Nicholas has told you, Emily,”
he said. “If you think he loves you, you’re sadly mistaken. The only person he
loves is himself, and I hope you’re getting one hell of a payday for putting up
with him during this charade. He doesn’t have a single honest investor in Wolf
Industries, and he sold his soul to the devils on Wall Street instead of helping his
own mother and brother with their hometown hotel business. Is that really the
type of man you want to be with?”

I noticed Nicholas clenching his fists.

“Dad told you to be generous and never forget where you came from.” Nathan
looked Nicholas up and down. “I don’t think you’ve worn anything during this
trip that costs less than a grand, and I don’t recall us growing up on Park
Avenue.”

“Nathan…”

“How much do you really donate to cancer research?” He leaned against the
counter. “I’m sure whatever it is, is minimal. I’d be surprised if you donated to
anything outside of Manhattan real estate.” He directed his gaze toward me
again. “How much is he really paying you, Emily? Anything less than half a
million is criminal and—”

“Shut the hell up.” I couldn’t take anymore, and his words were making my
chest hurt.

“What did you say?” He glared at me. “What’s going on between my brother and
me has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with you since I’ve spent two years with him and he’s
done nothing but try to make himself gain more respect from you.” I moved
forward, stepping closer. “For the record, your brother donates more than a
quarter of his profits to cancer research. I deliver the checks myself.”

He clenched his jaw, and Nicholas slipped his arm around my waist.

“And where exactly do you think your so-called honest investors come from?” I
couldn’t stop. “You think Smith & Claxton just found your bed and breakfast
chain one day and invested exactly what you needed on their own?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what happened. It was fate.”

“Surely you know better than that.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Nicholas found
them for you years ago, because even with all your morals and high-handedness,
you still have yet to hire someone who can adequately handle your business
accounts. Hell, he even made a deal to privately buy out Smith & Claxton so
they’ll never be able to take advantage of your company down the line. So that
way you’ll always have the billions of dollars at Wolf Industries behind you for
support, whether you wanted to know that or not.”

He looked stunned, and I couldn’t believe that I was railing on him like this.

“Every financial request you’ve ever made and received from your honest
investors has come straight from Nicholas because, despite the fact that you’re
not happy with the career path he chose, he still fucking loves you. And I don’t
think he loves me, I know he does, so fuck you and fuck off if you don’t buy it.
We’re not here for you.”

I tore away from Nicholas’s grip and left the two of them in the kitchen. I
plopped down on a crowded couch in the living room and shook my head.

Did I really just do that? Why didn’t Nicholas stop me?

I sat still and watched party guests run all around the room, wondering when
Nicholas was going to tell me that I overstepped my fiancée role by a longshot.

“Emily?” He suddenly stepped in front of me and held out his hand. “Can I
speak to you in private for a minute?”

I nodded and stood to my feet, bracing myself for an argument once we were
alone.

He pulled me into the closest bathroom and shut the door.

“Okay, look,” I said. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Thank you.” He pushed me against the wall and covered my mouth with his,
cutting my sentence short. Biting my bottom lip, he grabbed my hands and
placed them over my head—pinning them against the tiled wall.

“Keep your hands right there,” he whispered, slowly letting them go.

“Here?” My eyes widened as he tore away from my mouth. “Right now?”

He didn’t respond. He slid his hand under my skirt and ripped my panties off in a
single pull—giving me the answer without saying a word.

Getting down on his knees, he gently spread my legs apart and pressed a finger
against my soaked pussy. He blew a warm kiss against my clit, and my hands
immediately went to his head.

He let out a low laugh and stood up again.

“Emily…” His voice was low, demanding.

“Yes?”

He grabbed my hands and placed them back above my head. “Keep your hands
up here, and don’t make me tell you again.”

I nodded, and he kept his eyes on mine as he slowly unbuttoned my blouse. Then
he kissed his way down my neck and unclasped the front of my bra with his
teeth.

I swallowed as he pressed wet kisses against my nipples, as his mouth made a
trail down past my stomach.

Getting down on his knees again, he gently lifted my left leg and draped it over
his shoulder. Without saying a single word, he buried his head in my pussy and
sensuously tortured me with his tongue.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good…” He groaned.

I struggled to keep my hands up like he commanded, to not reach down and grab
fistfuls of his hair as he sucked my clit in and out of his mouth. My hips writhed
against my will, all over his lips, and the second he plunged his tongue a little
deeper inside of me, my left hand grabbed his head.

“Fuck…” I rasped. “I think you should...I think you should slow down…”

“I don’t.”

My right hand dropped from the wall as his kisses became even more relentless.

He gripped my thighs to keep me balanced, but he never stopped. Never slowed.

The overwhelming pleasure forced me to tilt my head back against the wall and
grab rough fistfuls of his hair.

My pussy throbbed against his mouth, and he slipped two thick fingers inside of
me. “Come on my face, Emily…” he whispered, plunging his fingers deeper and
massaging my clit with the tip of his tongue.

I shut my eyes as my body began to shake, as I felt the waves of an orgasm
building inside of me.

“Come on my fucking face…” he whispered again, gripping my thighs a little
tighter.

Unable to fight it anymore, I cried out his name as my body gave in to the power
of his mouth. I gripped his hair—hard, and held on until the last tremor of
pleasure moved through me.

“Good girl,” he said, moving my leg off his shoulder and standing to his feet. He
pressed a single finger against my lips, and I glanced down and realized his cock
was free his pants and rock hard.

I rubbed a hand up and down his length, earning a heated gaze from him. I
started to bend down on my knees to return the favor, but he suddenly spun me
around.

“Bend over and grip the sink.”

“What?”

“Bend over and grip the sink.” He slapped my ass. “Now.”

Beyond aroused and still dripping wet, I slowly obliged. I heard the sound of
him unwrapping a condom, and felt him biting the back of my neck.

He slid a hand between my legs—groaning about wet my pussy was, and then he
pressed his cock against my slit. “Fuck, Emily…”

I moaned as he slowly pushed his cock inside of me, inch by inch. “Oh…Oh
god…”

When he was completely buried inside of me, he pushed me forward and rubbed
his hands against my sides so I could adjust to his length.

“Is this what you wanted in our bedroom a few days ago?” he whispered into my
ear.

“Yes.” I swallowed as he squeezed my breasts. “Yes…”

“Hmmm.” He let out his low sexy laugh that made me want his cock even more,
and then he gripped my hips and began pounding into me with no mercy.

His tempo for fucking was even more relentless than the tempo for kissing my
pussy.

The sounds of the party were right outside the door—the laughter, the music, and
singing, but they all became a distant background noise as he slid his cock into
me again and again.

Light knocks came to the door every few minutes, but he never made a move to
open it. He just kept fucking me, controlling me.

“Ah…” I shut my eyes once I felt my body shaking all over again. “Ah…
Nicholas… Ohhh god…”

He held my hips steady when I let go of the sink—whispering words I couldn’t
quite make out. My knees went weak as a more powerful orgasm wrecked its
way through my body, and I felt him tensing behind me as he reached his own
release seconds later.

He kept his cock inside of me—letting us remain entwined until he was sure I
could hold my balance on my own. Slowly pulling out, he tossed the condom
away and picked up my tattered panties.

“Come on,” he said, finally opening the door. “We need to finish this in my
bedroom.”

“Again?” My eyes widened. “Now?’

“Yes, again.” He kissed my lips. “Right now.”

 THE ASSISTANT

EMILY

Day Fourteen (& Fifteen)


I collapsed on top of Nicholas after coming down from my fifth orgasm of the
day, my twentieth with him total.

The second we returned to his bedroom at the birthday party, he’d sent his family
and Brenton text messages about the two of us needing to work in private for a
couple days on something “extremely urgent.” Then he shut the door and fucked
me against every single surface until I couldn’t take anymore.

There was little to no conversation between us—just the release of two years’
worth of pent-up sexual tension, and orgasms upon orgasms.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, still feeling weak.

“Would you like to finally leave the bedroom today?

I shook my head, and he laughed.

“Well, you’ll have to,” he said. “Luna is officially out of food and water.”

“I thought she was at the party when we left…”

“I guess she found her way in here somehow.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sure
Samantha will come looking for her soon.”

I wanted to laugh, but my body was still too sore. I was even struggling to keep
my eyes open.

“Here.” He slid his hands under my body and repositioned me so my head was
against his chest. “Better?”

“Much.” I cleared my throat. “Just so you’re aware, being engaged to you hasn’t
been completely terrible.”

He laughed. “Well, just so you’re aware, I tried to let you out of your
employment contract twice.” He ran his fingers through my hair.

“What?” My eyes fluttered open. “When was this?”

“After your first year with me, and a few days before this arrangement actually.
After your so-called doctor’s appointment.”

“Did you dream that you did this, maybe?” I tried to sit up, but he kept me
pinned against his chest. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve jumped at the chance,
especially if it was that day.”

“I thought so as well.” He smiled. “But you personally rejected my offers, so I
figured you wanted to remain as my assistant. My best executive assistant.”

Before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, the sound of little feet
pattering in the hallway made us both look toward the door. The doorknob
turned slowly, and Samantha stepped inside, smiling at us. “Can Luna come out
and play with me now?”

 THE WOLF

NICHOLAS

Day Sixteen


Subject: Watson

He’s agreed to *finally* sign the selling papers, but he wants another tour of
your headquarters in New York to make sure “his soul approves” of the deal. He
also wants it to be strictly one-on-one this week.

Congratulations!

--Brenton East

PS—No, really. Was that story you told about Emily over dinner that night true
or not?


Subject: Re: Watson

When does he want the tour?

Thank you.
--Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—It was true.


Subject: Re: Re: Watson

Tomorrow.

--Brenton East

PS—Random thought: Why didn’t you just ask Emily out back then? This
engagement could’ve been real by now perhaps…


Subject: Re: Re: Re: Watson

Does it have to be tomorrow?

--Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—I did. She turned me down. Twice.


Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Watson

Of course not. It’s only a five billion dollar deal we’ve been working on forever.
We can totally ask him to wait until next year if you like.

O_o

You’re all booked for the final flight out of Blue Harbor tonight. (I got you first
class tickets again so you can experience the wonders of commercial airlines one
last time.)

--Brenton East

PS—Smart girl…

 THE WOLF

NICHOLAS

Day Seventeen


“Bye-Bye, Luna. I’ll miss you.” Samantha cried as my mother stopped the car in
front of the airport.

“Bye, Luna?” I smiled at her from the front seat. “What about me?”

“You’re not Luna.” She wiped her eyes, and I held back a laugh.

I stepped out of the car and opened the back door for Emily. “I think you need to
give Samantha a few minutes to mourn her loss.”

She laughed. “I will. We can always come back if you…” She didn’t finish her
sentence. “I forgot it’s only thirty days. Anyway, I think she’d take better care of
a kitten than a pony, so maybe you can get her one for her next birthday.”

“We can come back, Emily.” I kissed her forehead and popped the trunk open. I
started to take out our luggage, but Nathan stepped in front of me and insisted.

He looked over at my mom as she hugged Emily goodbye. Then he smiled as he
watched the two of them attempt to pry Luna from Samantha’s hands.

“I’d like to apologize to you,” he said. “Well, I’d like to do that first, rather.”

“For what?” I raised my eyebrow and waited for a dose of sarcasm.

“I didn’t realize you were doing all of that stuff for me behind my back. So, I’m
sorry for assuming the worst.” He paused. “I honestly thought your engagement
to Emily was some crazy scheme that Brenton cooked up, and I’m sorry about
that, too. But if the way she talked to me is any indication, it’s perfectly clear
that you’re made for each other.” He smiled. “I look forward to the wedding if
you’ll invite me.”

“Of course, I will.” I hesitated, debating whether I should tell him the truth or
not. Then again, over the past few days, my engagement to Emily hadn’t felt
fake or forced at all. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to end.

“You better go inside now while she’s stable, Nicholas.” My mother joked,
pointing at Samantha. “It took us long enough to get her to agree to let you-
know-what go.”

I gave my brother a hug and promised to do better with visiting in the months to
come. Then I walked over to my mother and kissed her cheek, vowing to do the
same.

I took Emily’s hand in mine, and unlike the last time we were at the airport, we
didn’t argue or separate from each other.



Two hours later, when our plane ascended into the sky, I leaned over and pulled
Emily’s earbud out of her left ear.

“Yes?” She looked at me and smiled. “Are you about to suggest an amendment
to the contract?”

“No.” I pulled her head close to mine and kissed her lips, not wanting to let go
until she was completely breathless.

“Stop.” She tore away from me and shook her head. “Just stop.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” She looked confused. “Don’t kiss me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is actually real.”

I pulled her close and kissed her again anyway. “It is.”


 THE WOLF

NICHOLAS

Day Twenty-Two


Closing the Watson deal was nowhere near as fulfilling as I thought it would be.
The champagne bottles were popped open and poured freely, the board members
gave several rounds of standing ovations, and Wolf Industries was the number
one talk of the business press.

But there was something missing: Emily.

Now that we were back in New York and away from the secluded space of Blue
Harbor, I wasn’t sure what the next move with her should be. Images of her on
top of me were invading my every thought, but it wasn’t just our sex that was
infiltrating my days. It was her laughter, her conversations, and her smile.

And her goddamn updates…

I’d been so busy with Mr. Watson over the past few days that everything else—
even Emily, had faded into the background. Since he’d forced me to be at his
side and give him incessant updates for several days straight, I’d hardly had a
chance to have an hour to myself. I was running on three hours of sleep a night,
and I was making a personal plea to my team that we were never going to pursue
a family-oriented CEO again.

At least, not one like Mr. Watson.

At the fifth and final celebratory party that was open to the public, I honestly
expected Emily to show, but she never appeared. And in the days that passed
with me getting back into my normal routine, I couldn’t help but think about
how much she hated her job when she was here. How I highly doubted that she
would go out of her way to do any extra work or come see me in my office.

I started to call her, but I wasn’t even sure what to say.


THE WOLF

NICHOLAS

Day Twenty-Three



“So, you think you would be a good executive assistant because, what?” Brenton
looked at the latest applicant, a Duke graduate (supposedly) who misspelled her
address on her resume.

“It’s because I have a great wardrobe just like his previous assistant, Emily. And
if things don’t work out between the two of them, I think I’ll be a great second
wife.”

Jesus… “Thank you for coming in today, Rachel.” There was no need to ask
another question, and I was done with this shit for the day. “We’ll be in touch.”

I shook her hand and glared at Brenton when she left the room.

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “I’ll go have a talk with Human Resources
right now. I’m going to suspend our ‘everyone can at least get an interview’
policy.”

“Thank you.”

He left the room, and there was a knock on my door seconds later.

Emily?

“Come in!”

The door swung open, but it wasn’t Emily at all. It was her personal driver,
Vinnie.

“Mr. Wolf, may I have a word?” he said.

“Sure. Shut the door behind you.”

He obliged and walked over to my desk. He looked more nervous than usual for
some reason.

“What can I help you with this morning, Vinnie?”

“I received a letter in my employee box this morning.” He pulled it out of his
back pocket. “It says—”

“Thank you for taking care of one of Wolf Industries most valuable assets over
the past two years and for being loyal for over ten years.” I set down my pen. “I
know. What about it?”

“Well, there was a check inside that’s pretty much my salary multiplied by thirty
years and a termination notice that starts after Miss Johnson’s last day.” He
scratched his head. “I’m not complaining at all, I’m just curious as to why you’re
letting me go with such a huge severance package. Won’t you need a personal
driver for your next executive assistant?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “Miss Johnson is the only executive assistant I’ve ever
assigned a personal driver to at this company. All of my other assistants have
shared with my secretary and executive team, and I think I’ll go in that direction
for my next one. If I ever get a next one, that is.”

“Oh, I see.” He smiled. “Was she also the only executive assistant who received
unlimited shopping and spa passes in your name to any place in this city? The
only one who had access to your private jet for travel?”

“I think we both already know the answer to that, Vinnie.”

“She doesn’t,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes. “She has no idea…”


 THE ASSISTANT

EMILY

Day Twenty-Nine


I can’t believe he hasn’t called.

My phone didn’t ring once after we returned to New York. A part of me knew
that was a possibility, though. Whenever Nicholas closed a deal, he threw a
celebratory party. The deal immediately became ‘old news’ the second the party
began, and he started looking for a new pursuit.

I’d read reports of how happy he was at the closing celebration, how he told
everyone there that his fiancée was unable to come due to “personal reasons.”
So, I took that as a sign to keep my distance. I’d even considered showing up to
the party, but I changed my mind at the last minute.

“Cheer up, Em.” My sister placed a mug of hot cocoa in front of me. “At least
you got to fuck him. It was amazing every time, right?”

“Is that all you think about these days, Jenna?”

“No.” She smiled. “Yes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, every time.”

“Well, treasure those memories until you find someone else. I’m sure he’s
moved on to someone else by now. He is Mr. Page Six after all.”

“Remind me to never come to you when I need to be consoled again.”

“I don’t understand why it’s that big of a deal.” She took a cupcake out of the
refrigerator. “You’ve worked for him for two years. You were attracted to him,
but not enough to cross the line. He invites you to do a new, temporary contract
—one where he’s basically letting you off the hook for the final few days, and
you’re moping about it. It’s not like you’re in love with the guy. Right?”

I didn’t answer.

“Oh my god...” She plopped down in front of me. “I guess I should’ve seen that
as the reason why you refused to go out and date new people after your last
breakup.”

“That had nothing to do with Nicholas.”

“I think it has everything to do with him. Why else would you spend all that
extra time with him before the arrangement?” She looked as if she was about to
launch into one of her “deep” and not-so-insightful spiels, but there was a
sudden knock at the door.

“I’ll get it.” I rushed over to the door and found myself face to face with our
mother.

“Mom?” I said. “I thought you weren’t getting in until this weekend.”

“When were you going to tell me that you were engaged?” She looked hurt. “I
had to read about it in the Financial Times. I had to fly here earlier than I
originally planned because I just knew you wouldn’t hide something like that
from me for this long. Would you?”

“Let’s talk about that.” I sighed and let her inside. “Coffee or tea?”

“Vodka.”

I walked into my kitchen and poured her a shot. I made myself a cup of orange
juice.

“Your boss is a damn good catch,” she said, taking the glass from me. “I’m just
surprised you went for him after all the complaining you did during your first six
months there.”

“It’s not a real engagement mom,” I said. “It never was.”

“Well, of course, it’s a real engagement. You don’t have to get married within a
year like your dad and I did to make it a real thing.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean we were never—”

Someone knocked on the door mid-sentence before I could finish.

“Give me one second,” I said, getting up to answer the door. I opened it and
found myself face to face with Nicholas.

“Yes?” I said.

“Are you going to invite me inside?”

“Yes.” I blushed at the sight of him in his trademark black suit, and motioned for
him to come in.

“Emily, is that him?” My mother called from the kitchen, but she didn’t wait for
me to answer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. Johnson.” Nicholas extended his hand to her as
she walked into the living room. “I’m Nicholas Wolf, Emily’s fiancée.”

My mother looked at him, then at me. She mouthed, “WOW” to me and shook
his hand before returning to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you had company tonight,” he said, tucking a strand of hair
behind my ear.

“You would if you answered my text messages and stopped ignoring me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You ordered me a new phone and a new service before
we left for Blue Harbor. I just switched it over the other day. My apologies for
not calling you, but I’m definitely not ignoring you, Emily.”

We stared at each other.

“I was just thinking about you and wanted to stop by,” he said.

“For sex?”

“Not just for sex.” He smiled. “Can you come into the office tomorrow and clear
out your desk? Brenton is starting to get antsy about moving into your office. If
you come back to work, I’ll let you keep it.”

“I don’t think so.” I laughed as his lips landed on mine. “What time do you want
me to come?”

“Eight o’clock,” he said. “And I want you to stop by my office first.”

“Okay.” I kissed him again, and he walked to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” I returned to the kitchen and sat across from my mother.

“Now, what was it you were saying about this engagement to your fiancé not
being real?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I smiled. “Nothing at all.”

 THE ASSISTANT

EMILY

Day Thirty


I took the elevator to the top floor of Wolf Industries the next morning, hoping
Nicholas would suggest that we have sex in his office to make up for lost time.

Holding my badge against his keypad, I opened the door and spotted him sitting
at his desk. He was holding a pen and staring at a stack of papers.

“Hey, Nicholas,” I said, smiling. “I’m here.”

“I can see that, Miss Johnson.”

“Miss Johnson?”

“That is your name, isn’t it?” He looked up at me, his expression blank. “Would
you mind signing the fulfillment contract—confirming that we’ve reached the
thirty-day mark so that I can start the payment process for your services?”

Confused, I took the pen from him and signed my name. “I guess I should say
my end of the deal then.” I smiled. “ Thank you for agreeing to this outrageous
financial demand, and for hiring me when I had little to no experience.”

“You’re more than welcome, Miss Johnson,” he said, his voice cold. “You can
leave the ring on my desk. That’s not yours to keep.”

“Why are you being so…” I shook my head and twisted the ring off my finger,
setting it on his desk. “I’ll be sure to have my things cleared out by the end of
today.”

“I can have someone do that for you if you think it’ll take longer than an hour.”

“It won’t.” I felt hurt and upset that he was treating me like this all of sudden. “I
can still give you today’s updates if you’d like me to.”

“I don’t.”

I didn’t bother saying anything else. I simply walked out. I wasn’t sure what the
hell I’d expected from him at the end. I’d foolishly fallen for him, thinking that
he meant what he said about falling in love with me long ago.

He said we were real…

Heading into my office, I picked up a large box and stacked everything I wanted
to keep inside.

I pulled my drawers open, noticing that Nicholas had stolen my raw sugar
packets again. Then I spotted the two gift boxes he’d given me on our
“anniversaries” and picked them up. They were still unwrapped and untouched,
so I figured I’d find out what the hell he’d given me as a gift.

I opened the red one from our first anniversary. It was a folded, handwritten
letter.


Dear Emily,

First, Happy Anniversary.

Second, I’ve been sitting on this letter for quite some time, and if I’ve grown to
know you in the way I think I do, you probably won’t open this until several
months down the line. (By then, I truly hope you’ll feel differently toward me.)

Anyway, thank you for being the best executive assistant I’ve ever had. I know
how demanding I can be, I’m aware that I’m overbearing at times, and I
apologize for the additional stress you’ve been under with the Waldman deal.

That said, if I’m being perfectly honest, I would prefer that you weren’t my
assistant—that you took some time off to consider being with me in a different
way.

You’re the most attractive and intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and after
spending so much time with you, I think we’d be better off as a couple than in
our current scenario with me in a position of power over you. (Although, full
disclosure: if we ever make it to the bedroom, I’ll definitely be in position of
power there…)

I like you, I want you, and I would like a chance to be with you.

If you feel the same, let me know, and I’ll immediately let you out of your
contract.

(Well, as long as you promise to help me find a replacement who is half as good
as you).

Otherwise, I’ll take it as a rejection and keep things between us professional.

--Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—Yes, I’m aware that you’re currently dating someone, but I highly doubt it
will last. He’s not right for you. (And I’m better….in every way)


I wiped a stray tear away and opened the second letter.


Dear Emily,

First, Happy Anniversary.

Second, I’m pretty confident that you’ve never opened my first letter. I won’t
bother rehashing all of it—as I’m sure it’s still tucked away in your desk
somewhere.

It’s now been two years, and my attraction to you has not waned. It’s intensified
with each passing day and each comment that falls from your sexy, smart-ass
mouth.

We’ve traveled all over the country together under the guise of work, but I would
really prefer if we took the “work” element out of it. I would prefer if you were
just mine, and not “my executive assistant.”

My offer still stands in regard to immediately letting you out of your contract.

Please let me know if you feel the same…

Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—You’re not dating anyone right now, so before you waste your time with
someone else, be with me…


I re-read both letters ten times, cursing myself for not opening them when he
first gave them to me. I wondered if that was why he was being so cold today, if
he really thought I didn’t feel the same way.

“Miss Johnson?” He was suddenly standing in my doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Wolf?” I matched his cold tone and set the boxes down.

“You seem to be taking a long time getting your things out of my building,” he
said, moving closer to me. “What’s the problem?”

“My boss is currently behaving like an asshole again, and I’m not sure why or
how to handle it.” I shrugged. “I was quite foolish I guess, because I thought he
loved me.”

“He definitely does.” He smiled and wiped my stray tears away with his
fingertips. Then he glanced at the opened anniversary gift boxes and smiled.

“You of all people should know that your boss channels his nervousness into
coldness, especially whenever he’s on the verge of brokering a new deal.”

“He doesn’t have any new deals.” I looked into his eyes. “He closed the final one
for this quarter last week.”
“No, there was one left.” He kissed my lips, and then he got down on one knee.
He slowly opened a ring box, revealing a new, stunning emerald ring, and his
eyes met mine.

I gasped and waited for him to say something, but no words came. Instead, he
pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to me.


CONTRACT

Pre-proposal clause


The “former boss,” Nicholas A. Wolf, would like the “former employee,” Emily
Nicole Johnson, to sign this contract before he officially proposes marriage.

This contract serves as an agreement that should Emily Nicole Johnson accept
Nicholas A. Wolf’s offer that she will fuck him in his office for the rest of the
day. (And she will also agree that they have lost two years’ worth of fucking by
being stuck in an employee/boss relationship, so their marriage will be full of
“married fucking” and “make-up fucking.”)

In witness whereof, the parties have duly affixed their signatures and under hand
and seal on this day.


I looked at him and held back a laugh. Then I picked a pen from my desk and
signed his contract in one second flat. I handed it to him, and he grabbed my
hand.

“Emily Nicole Johnson, I fucking love you, and I have for a very long time,” he
said. “I want to be with you again, and I want it to last longer than thirty days.”
He paused. “You’re the only person I look forward to having conversations with
every day, the only person I actually enjoy being around for multiple days at a
time, and if you give me a chance outside of my company, I’ll do everything I
can, every day, to prove that you belong with me.” He swallowed. “Last time I
asked you this, you said no, but…Emily Nicole Johnson, will you marry me?”

“In a heartbeat.” I nodded. “Yes.”

He stood up and slowly slid the ring on my finger, pulling me closer and kissing
me like only he could.

“Should we lock the door now?” I asked, breathless.

“In a minute,” he said, smirking as he pulled a different paper from his breast-
pocket. “I want to make an amendment to the contract you just signed.”

I smiled. “You seriously need to do that right now?

“Yes.” He laughed and kissed me again. “Right now.”

The End