Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
I put on the blinker and change lanes so I can turn ahead. “I don’t follow—your date called in?”
People call in sick to work, not dates.
My belly flips over.
What, did he hire her? As if someone as shrieking hot as Nick Brandt would ever need to hire a date?
He waves a hand. “Well, she canceled. Dropped out. You get the picture.”
I stifle a laugh. “Does it hurt your ego to admit you got ghosted or something?”
“Hardly. She was kind of a flake. I almost expected as much. Anyway, you’re missing the point.”
“What point?” I make a sharp left turn.
“I still need a date for tonight.”
I glance back to see his green eyes flashing.
Oof. Am I imagining things or is he looking at me almost like he wants me to—
No.
No, no, no, no, and also, no.
I clear my throat and muster my flattest tone. “Well, there seems to be no shortage of size double zero girls in Chicago willing to date you, right? Better start texting.”
He sighs like I’ve just burst his bubble.
“Reese, I can’t be seen with any random girl at this event. I need class,” he rumbles.
Oh, no.
“What are you going to do?” I venture, feeling the sweat beading on my brow.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’ll bring an employee. A friend. No one will ever know.”
“If that’s how you want to play this, fine. But if it’s Paige, the new assistant, I think your brother will smash your face in with a sledgehammer,” I say.
He smiles. “You think Ward’s got a hard-on for her too, huh?”
“Maybe.”
Actually, it’s pretty dang obvious. The Warden’s been looking miserable lately, pretending he isn’t ogling the new executive assistant with all the subtly of a starved coyote.
When I peer at him in the rearview mirror, his jaw looks clenched. Those hell-green eyes seize mine and won’t let go.
“Dammit, look...I was trying to be subtle to make this less awkward.” He pauses. “Truth is, I need you to come with me tonight.”
Not a question.
Not a request.
Not an invite.
Basically, he’s given me a marching order.
A clanging fire alarm couldn’t match the panicked roar in my head.
Okay. Crap. Think.
Think before this desperate, sexy, arrogant beast takes out his lighter and blows up professional boundaries and my happy place in the employee zone.
“How ’bout no?” I try.
“What?” he snaps, his gaze sharpening.
“Nick...you’re my boss and it’s a pretty weird request. Might even be against company policy. Remember what happens when you ask me to do things that are way out of my job description?” I hold a finger up, wagging it at him.
“I realize I’m asking a lot. I’m not begging for a simple favor,” he says, his brows low like thunderheads. “I planned on making it worth your while. Spend a few hours with me, and I’ll pay you ten thousand big. It’s all above board. We’ll keep it off the official books. You’ll get a check from yours truly and nobody ever has to know.”
Did he just say—ten thousand smackeroos?
Hold me.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m not even sure how I should feel.
“Aboveboard? You’re joking, right? You’re paying me to be your damn date, dude. I’m not some kind of sugar baby!” My voice breaks an octave higher.
That’s how bad he’s got me flustered.
“Relax, Miss Halle,” he growls, stumbling back to the last name basis that’s kind of gone by the wayside. “Reese, you’re getting the sugar tonight, and you don’t even have to call me daddy.”
Oh. My. God.
I actually thump my chest to make sure it doesn’t lurch to a stop. And Mr. Scrooged in the Head isn’t even done.
“We’ll be in public all night. It’s more like an acting gig than anything else,” he says, softening his voice.
I pull up in front of his building and hit the brakes so hard we bounce.
Maybe we can end this madness now.
“You said you wanted class, Nick. Class. I can barely walk in heels. I don’t know caviar from chewing gum. I’m scared to even try that hundred-year-old champagne you gave me forever ago—let alone drink it out of a plastic cup because that’s all I’ve got besides mugs.” I pause, ticking off each reason on my fingers, desperately hunting for more. “And...I don’t have anything to wear that costs more than eighty bucks. Unless your big shot friends don’t mind a Target wardrobe...”
“I had a dress ordered to your fit this morning. Extra rush job. You can keep it after tonight. HR had your size from the driving uniform. We’ll pick it up after I change.”
A dress? Nick Brandt bought me a dress?
I can’t even imagine what that’d look like. Since when have I ever worn a formal dress?
Panic time.
“If I say no, will you fire me?” I grind out.
“Never. You’re well within your rights to tell me to go to hell. This isn’t an unreasonable request—it’s a high-pressure shit show. But you know I wouldn’t ask—I wouldn’t dare—if I weren’t hard up. I hope you’ll say yes and do me this one mammoth favor. If you want me to get down on one knee...”