Tangled Temptations

Prologue

As I watched my ex struggle to stand up, wincing at the gash above his eye, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. Sure, he would need a few stitches, but sympathy was the furthest thing from my mind.

"Maybe you should do something, Lysandra," Nerissa said, coming up beside me.

I shrugged helplessly at my foster mother. Anyone with half a brain would know better than to get in between Bryant Hayes and what he wanted. And right now, it seemed like what he wanted was to beat my ex-fiancé to a pulp.

I certainly wouldn't object to that.

Gary had been acting like an asshole lately, pushing the boundaries. Today, he had crossed a line. He may not have caused as much trouble as the others who were determined to tear Bryant and me apart, but he deserved whatever was coming to him.

Nerissa turned to her husband. "We can't just stand here."

"Why not?" Zephyr replied. "Gary should have known better."

Absolutely, he should have. Bryant was an uber-successful business mogul, known for being someone you didn't mess with. He was driven, relentless, assertive, and unforgiving. And until a few months ago, he had been married to his work.

Now, he was married to me.

Oh, and did I mention that he was also my boss?

Usually, he didn't lose his cool like this. He didn't waste time or energy on letting others get under his skin. But since our marriage was supposed to be a secret, he had to play the role of the possessive husband. And with his intimidating presence, he was doing a damn good job of it right now.

Bryant stared down my ex, his voice low and reprimanding. "I warned you, didn't I? Time and time again, I warned you to stay away from her. But you didn't listen. And now, you've pulled this shit. If you truly cared for Lysandra, you wouldn't have done something like this."

Gary clenched his fists. "I do care for her, she's—"

"Not yours," Bryant interrupted. "Those are my rings on her finger. It's my name she's taken. It's my bed she shares. She is mine. So whether you care for her or not is irrelevant."

Gary swallowed. "She was mine first."

"And you should have fought to keep her. But you let her go. And that was your mistake."

"I did what was best for her."

"No, you did what was best for you. You may have cared for Lysandra, but you never put her first. She was never your priority."

Gary's nostrils flared. "I was young back then. A kid."

"A kid who wanted the freedom to pursue his ambitions. Lysandra gave you that; she didn't hold you back. And how do you repay her? By trying to break up her marriage. Do you honestly think she'll thank you for that? That she'll want someone who would do that to her?"

My ex's jaw tightened. "What I think... is that Lysandra deserves to be loved. And you'll never love her. You don't have it in you."

Those words pierced my heart, because they were true. Bryant didn't love me. He never had, and he never would.

I shouldn't care. I wasn't supposed to care. And I definitely didn't like that I did. But somehow, I had fallen for my fake husband. Yeah, I was that stupid.

Bryant sighed. "You've said that before. I didn't care what you thought then, and I still don't care now. You're of no interest to me. And you're of no interest to her. You need to man up and accept it, because I won't allow you to play these games with her. You're going to leave here, and you're going to stay away from her."

Gary defiantly jutted out his chin. "You don't get to dictate what I do."

"When it comes to my wife, I absolutely do."

"You won't keep her in the long run, you know. She'll see that I'm right about you eventually. Then she'll leave you."

Bryant tilted his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "Now why would you think I'd let her do something like that?"

Gary's eyes widened. "You can't force someone to stay with you."

"Lysandra knows I would never let her go."

Damn, Bryant was a master at acting. If he hadn't been so clear about not wanting a real marriage, I might have believed him.

"She's just a possession to you," Gary insisted.

"My most prized possession, as it happens," Bryant said coolly. "And I fully intend to keep her. So deal with it. Accept it. Leave her alone. Get rid of this delusion that you can win her back. It's never going to happen."

"And if I don't stay away from her?"

A cruel smile curved Bryant's lips, sending a chill down my spine. "Then I'll make you wish you had."

Gary's gaze narrowed. "She deserves better than you. You don't deserve her."

"And you think you do? After behaving like a complete asshole, you think you deserve her?"

Shame flickered across my ex's face. "Maybe neither of us do. But—"

"There are no 'buts.' You're mistaken if you think you would still be married to her if A, B, or C hadn't happened. I would have found a way to make her mine, no matter how long it took. Don't think for a second that I wouldn't. I'm relentless when it comes to getting what I want. So don't count on me messing up and losing her like you did. I would never let someone as important to me as Lysandra walk out of my life."

Gary stared at Bryant, studying him intensely. "Damn it, I think you might actually care for her in your own messed-up way."

Bryant's gaze shifted to me, burning with possessiveness, impatience, and something else. Something that made my heart race and my breath catch. But Gary was wrong. Bryant didn't care for me. There was no way he wanted this marriage to be real. He didn't even want a girlfriend, let alone a wife... right?

Chapter One

Six months earlier

Brianna eyed me cautiously as she approached my desk. "Uh-oh, your eyelid's twitching. What's the matter? Did someone mistake you for the model on the Syphilis Awareness billboard again?"

I narrowed my eyes at Brianna, my friend and coworker. "No, and I don't resemble her in any way." We had already discussed this, but Brianna had a knack for teasing me like only a close friend could.

"You both have the same pale blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her hair isn't exactly the same platinum blonde shade as yours, but it's similar."

Most people assumed my hair color was artificial, but it was actually inherited from my half-Swedish grandmother.

"But she doesn't have your blunt bangs or Jessica Alba-mouth," Brianna continued, clearly enjoying herself.

"Can we not talk about the model who looks nothing like me, please?"

"Sure."

"Great. If you're here to see Bryant, he's not back from his lunch meeting yet, but he should be back soon."

"I came to check on you. I heard Kasen entered the building earlier. Last time that idiot was here, you almost had to call security to get rid of him."

And who was Kasen? He was my boss's conniving, arrogant, and entitled brother.

I sighed. "I'm fine, just annoyed. He wanted to wait for Bryant in his office. I said no. He tried to flirt with me to get his way. I said no. He claimed he had a migraine and needed a quiet place to sit. I said no. Then he got mean and demanded access. Again, I said no. We went back and forth like that until he finally stormed off—but not before threatening to get me fired."

Brianna shook her head. "He's such a weasel. Why do you think he wanted to be in Bryant's office?"

"He said he wanted to wait for him in there." It wouldn't surprise me if he intended to snoop around and find some sensitive information to sell to Bryant's competitors. Kasen seemed to hold a deep resentment towards his brother, probably out of petty jealousy since Kasen was only successful at being an absolute tool.

Brianna tilted her head. "Although he's a pain, he usually doesn't make your eyelid twitch like that. It usually takes more than that to set it off. Come on, spill it. What's bothering you? Sharing might make you feel better, and I'm nosy—help a girl out."

"It's nothing, really. I just discovered something about myself that I don't like."

"Oh, I do that every day. So, what did you discover?"

I clasped my hands together and rested them on my desk. "I can be very petty. You see, I'm going to run into my high school sweetheart today—a guy I was briefly engaged to. He's now rich and successful. Although I don't want him back, I want him to look at me, see how much better my life is without him, and regret letting me go."

"Girl, pretty much everyone wants their exes to feel that way. It doesn't make you petty. It makes you human. And wait a minute...you were engaged to this guy? How have we known each other for four years and I've never heard about this?" She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the desk. "Alright, give me the details. I want the long version."

"You're getting the short version. Gary Martin and I grew up together. He was one of my closest friends. We started dating in high school, and he proposed to me after graduation as a way to show that going to college wouldn't change anything between us. But he ended our relationship five months later. He said we rushed into getting engaged and that we were too young to make such a commitment."

Brianna's expression softened with sympathy. "That jerk broke your teenage heart."

"Not entirely, but he definitely wounded it. People always used to talk about how he was destined for bigger and better things than the life he was born into. We grew up in a rough neighborhood. Part of me worried he would leave me behind when his life took off...and he did. He asked to remain friends, but I never saw or heard from him again after that."

"Not even once?"

"No. I ran into his aunt a few times over the years, so I know he's married, has a child, owns a big house, and has a cushy job." I sighed. "I'm genuinely happy for him. I am. It just makes me painfully aware of how little my own life has changed since we last saw each other. Not that I dislike my life, but it feels stagnant."

I had my health, people who loved me, a well-paying job, and I never took any of it for granted. But I felt stuck, like I was merely existing to eat, sleep, and pay bills. I didn't date, go on vacations, or take much time for myself. I didn't have much time, considering how much I worked. Being the personal assistant to a workaholic took a toll on my personal life. I needed to shake things up a bit.

"Is there any way you can avoid seeing Gary?" Brianna asked.

"Probably not. His boss arranged a meeting with Bryant months ago."I had a brief phone conversation earlier with the guy's PA, and she informed me that Charles would be accompanied by two of his 'rising stars.' When she mentioned Gary's name, I was taken aback. Since Bryant usually likes me to sit in on these meetings and take notes, it seems highly unlikely that I can avoid encountering Gary."

"Damn." Brianna straightened up and gestured towards me. "Well, maybe you're not married, wealthy, or living in a fancy house, but you're a smart, confident woman who anyone would respect simply for working as Bryant Hayes's PA for a full four years. Not many people could handle being so close to a corporate psychopath without having a breakdown."

I let out a sigh. "Granted, Bryant can be a bit difficult at times, but he's not a psychopath."

"You haven't noticed his thirst for power, lack of empathy, absence of a conscience, or the fact that he's a control freak? None of his previous PAs lasted longer than six months—they were either fired or left in tears. Bryant is far from being a nice guy. Not that I'm complaining. There's something intriguing about a bad boy. The whole cold and ruthless persona suits him."

Okay, so he enjoyed power. Don't most CEOs? And yes, he could be insensitive and careless with people's feelings. He was certainly ruthless, but... "He's not cold or devoid of a conscience. And he does have empathy." Well, maybe not completely. "He just doesn't always bother to show emotional tact."

"He made Gibson cry yesterday. Sweet, innocent Gibson who's always quick to laugh. It's like kicking a puppy. Bryant probably did mean things to animals as a child—being cruel to animals is often seen in psychopathic kids, you know."

Another sigh escaped my lips. "He's not a psychopath."

"Come on, he even has that hunter's stare they're known for. Look me in the eye and tell me it doesn't make you uncomfortable. The hair on my neck stands up every time."

Yeah, I couldn't deny that I felt unsettled by it either. There was always a dangerous glimmer in his dark, piercing eyes. They could lock onto you like a laser, pin you down, and emit such intensity that it invaded your personal space.

Even after working for him for four years, I wasn't immune to that unwavering, relentless, predator-like stare. Not at all. It was like being watched by a jungle cat. A formidable, badass jungle cat wondering what a small, insignificant creature like you was doing in its territory.

"Anyone can master a stare like that if they put in enough effort," I said.

Brianna narrowed her eyes, a smile forming on her lips. "You know what? I think you actually like him."

To be honest, I had developed a harmless crush on my boss over the years. I didn't beat myself up about it. It was impossible not to be affected by Bryant Hayes. "Good-looking" was too tame of a description for him. Tall, dark, and exuding a raw sex appeal that could throw any woman off balance.

It wasn't just his looks that made him so dangerously alluring. It was the whole package—his commanding personality, an aura of authority that seemed innate, unshakable self-assurance, and an untamed essence that hinted at danger.

He was effortlessly desirable, and he knew it. He didn't flaunt it, but he definitely took advantage of the impact he had on women. He moved from one woman to another, never bothering with romance. For Bryant, work always came first. He had built a life that seemed designed to keep people at arm's length.

Sometimes, I couldn't help but feel that he had an emptiness inside him. A void that he tried to fill with work, but could never quite succeed.

Despite his occasional rudeness and dismissiveness, he had managed to establish a vast network of clients, partners, and allies. He possessed a certain... cold charisma. A powerful, masculine, irresistible presence that lacked warmth, yet still drew people into his orbit like a magnet. And unfortunately, I was not immune to it.

But I didn't long for him for two reasons. First, I was a realist. I knew there was no chance of anything happening between us, and that knowledge allowed me to keep my fantasies in check. Fantasies that only came out when I was spending quality time with my vibrator.

Second, even if he wasn't too absorbed in work to fully invest in a relationship, he would be an incredibly challenging partner. In business, nothing was ever good enough for Bryant—he always pushed the boundaries, always pursued "more," always found imperfections. I suspected he would be the same way in a relationship, never truly satisfied. That kind of dynamic didn't appeal to me.

Besides, Bryant was far too professional to get involved with one of his employees. Would I consider a one-night stand if he gave any indication that he was interested? No. I valued my job too much to risk it for a moment of indiscretion.

"You do have feelings for him, don't you?" Brianna prodded.

As if I would share that with Brianna, who couldn't even hold her own bladder. "It's not that. It's just... he gave me an opportunity that not many people would have."

Understanding dawned on Brianna's face. "So, you feel loyal to him and don't want to say anything negative. I get it."It would be disloyal, I thought to myself. When I first started working at o-Verve Pro Technologies, I was hired as a secretary for one of the lower-ranking employees. Clint, oh Clint, was an arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic chauvinist who had a knack for throwing tantrums and believing that the whole world was out to sabotage him.

I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction when I realized that the CEO, Bryant, had overheard me telling Clint to "Stop being a precious little man-child and quit with the drama before you give yourself an ulcer. Oh, and don't think I'm going to clean up that mess—you swiped the stuff off the desk, you can put it all back."

Sure, it wasn't the most professional way to speak to your boss, but there was something about my teacher-addressing-an-unruly-student tone that always snapped Clint out of his tirades.

Later that day, I was called into Bryant's office, fully expecting to be fired. To my surprise, he informed me that he would be moving me to another department within the building. Specifically, his department.

Shocked beyond belief, I stared at him, struggling to find the right words. "I don't understand," I finally managed to say.

Bryant leaned back in his leather chair, looking completely at ease. "I need a new PA," he said casually. "After overhearing your... conversation with Clint, I did some digging and learned a lot about you. You're meticulous, dependable, highly efficient, hyper-organized. You don't shy away from hard work, you have a positive attitude, and you excel at multitasking. You've been a great right-hand person for Clint. And I also noticed that you can handle difficult characters. I need all of that in a PA."

"But don't you already have one?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yes, I do. Unfortunately, she can't handle the workload and seems more interested in flirting with me than doing her job. Needless to say, she doesn't have a future as my PA."

I licked my lips nervously. "Not that I'm trying to talk myself out of a job, but my way of handling 'difficult characters' isn't always calm and professional."

Bryant chuckled softly. "But if Clint could have been handled using a calm, professional manner, you would have done it, right?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"I don't need someone who's always polite. In this position, you'll come across many strong, demanding, self-entitled characters—myself included. If you're sweet and agreeable and can't stand up for yourself, they'll walk all over you. I need someone who won't be easily swayed."

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desk and looked me directly in the eyes. "I have a talent for recognizing skills and potential in people. I believe this position would suit you. But I must warn you, it's not a dream job. I'm not an easy man to work for. I'm a perfectionist who expects nothing short of excellence. By taking on the multitude of tasks—big and small—that I'll be assigning to you, you'll be expected to be ten people at once. I need someone who can stay on top of everything, who doesn't require constant supervision, and who won't crumble at the slightest criticism. I believe that person is you. So, are you willing to take a chance and see if I'm right?"

I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I'll take that chance."

And so, I did. Bryant hadn't lied. The job came with immense pressure, and he could be a nightmare to deal with at times. His standards were high, both for himself and for others, and he had no patience for those who couldn't keep up. He was inflexible, overly detail-oriented, and often forgot that not everyone was as married to their job as he was. But in many other ways, he was a good boss. He paid well, took care of his employees, rewarded hard work, and refused to tolerate any workplace nonsense.

And once upon a time, he had been my savior—he had swooped in when I thought everything was falling apart and fixed the situation without batting an eye. For that alone, I would always be loyal to him. Of course, he had made it clear that he hadn't done it out of kindness and that he would call in a favor one day, but...

"Speak of the devil," Brianna's voice snapped me back to reality. My eyes darted towards the elevator, and there he was, Bryant, striding out with that purposeful, ridiculously sexy alpha-male presence. He looked so self-assured and unyielding that it made my heart race and my hormones go wild.

Even in his perfectly tailored suit, there was no hiding the underlying menace that seemed to lurk just beneath his controlled exterior. Every now and then, you could catch a glimpse of it in his eyes or hear it in the way his voice deepened.

"We'll talk later," Brianna said, pushing herself away from my desk. "I want to hear all about your encounter with the ex." With that, she hurried away, bidding Bryant a good afternoon as she passed.

I was pretty sure he grunted some sort of greeting, but it was hard to tell from this distance. With his perpetually unimpressed expression, one might assume he suffered from chronic indifference. It often made people nervous, as if they were compelled to try and please or entertain him. The latter was a futile effort. In all the years I had worked for him, I had never once heard him laugh.

Putting on my best receptionist smile as he approached, I greeted him with a simple "Good afternoon, Bryant."His brows flicked up in a subtle greeting, a gesture that was reserved for me alone. Not many people received such a small acknowledgment from Bryant. I gathered the papers from my desk and followed him into his elegant, spacious office. The polished cognac-brown wooden floors seamlessly matched the sleek ergonomic desk, the shelves lining the walls, and the coffee table in the seating area at the corner of the room. Two black leather sofas flanked the table, and I could confirm that they were exceptionally comfortable.

Bryant occasionally held one-on-one meetings in the seating area, but he mostly preferred conference rooms. It was clear that he didn't enjoy having too many people invade his private sanctuary. Not that his office gave away much about his personal life. There were no sentimental trinkets, no clutter. Even his impressive desk was surprisingly bare. His desktop computer, laptop, landline phone, nameplate, and a single coaster were the only items adorning it.

There were two things I envied about Bryant's office. First, the private bathroom. Second, the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

"Coffee?" I asked once he settled into his chair.

"No," he replied curtly.

In the beginning, I used to be taken aback by his brusque manner. Now, I had grown accustomed to it. I knew not to take his rudeness personally. Bryant didn't bother with sparing anyone's feelings.

After delivering some important messages to him, I placed the papers on the desk in front of him. "You need to sign these."

He grunted in response.

I offered him a bright smile. "I enjoy our little chats."

He gave me one of those dry looks that had become all too familiar over the years.

I made my way towards the door. Just as I reached it, I casually glanced back over my shoulder and said, "Oh, and Kasen came by to see you."

Bryant's narrowed eyes studied me intently. "What did he do?"

I blinked in surprise. "Who said he did anything?"

"What did he do, Lysandra?" Bryant repeated. His smooth, low-pitched voice rarely wavered, as if he never doubted that he had the full attention of whoever he was conversing with. And from what I had observed, he was right not to have any doubts.

I wasn't keen on being a tattletale, but I felt that Bryant had the right to know that his brother might be up to something. "Kasen wanted to enter your office even though you weren't here. I didn't let him, so he caused a scene. When it didn't work, he left. He also wants you to call him."

"Define 'scene.'"

"He whined, yelled, growled, and threatened to have me fired," I explained.

"Did he lay a hand on you?"

"No," I replied honestly. Though he had threatened to. I decided not to mention that detail, knowing it would only further agitate Bryant, and he was even more difficult when he was in a mood.

"Hmm," he mused, a sound he made far too often. It was infuriating because it could mean everything or nothing.

Moving on swiftly, I said, "Don't forget you have a meeting in an hour. The agenda is on your desk, and I emailed you the materials you need to review."

His gaze fixed on the laptop screen, he stated, "You'll attend it with me." It wasn't a request; it was an order.

"That's fine," I replied, hiding any trace of my true feelings. It was far from fine.

He grew still, his eyes locking onto mine. "Will that be a problem?"

The guy was like a mind reader or some sort of sorcerer. It was nearly impossible to keep anything from him. "Of course not," I answered, my voice steady. "Are you sure you don't want coffee?"

He didn't respond. He simply stared at me with that piercing gaze. The only reason I didn't squirm or look away was that I had become an expert at acting unaffected.

His cell phone began to ring on the desk.

"I'm sure," he finally replied, reaching for the chiming device.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything." With that, I exited the office and returned to my own desk. It was neat and organized, but unlike Bryant's, it was far from minimalistic. It housed a computer, printer, landline phone, stationery, and the fake cactus that my foster mother had gifted me. Nerissa knew I would inadvertently kill a real plant.

I didn't have time to dwell on the upcoming meeting. I had too much work to do. As the founder and CEO of a highly successful analytical software company, Bryant's schedule was always packed, and his workload was never light. That meant my workload was just as heavy.

There was never a dull moment throughout the day. It started at full speed and remained that way until business hours came to an end—and sometimes even longer. But I thrived in the fast-paced environment. Each day brought its own challenges and surprises.

Fortunately, Bryant wasn't one of those bosses who made outrageous demands like asking his PA to buy him condoms or catering to diva-like whims. In fact, he never sent me on any personal errands, preferring to keep his personal life separate. He was an intensely private individual, and I had long given up trying to get to know him.

Though he rarely sent me out of the office on errands, he occasionally requested that I courier sensitive documents to other buildings. He also used me as a sounding board from time to time, a role I quite enjoyed.In essence, my primary responsibility was managing Bryant's schedule, ensuring everything ran smoothly, and handling tasks that didn't require his personal attention. Additionally, I made sure that everyone else was aware of his calendar, including meetings, trips, and conferences.

The most challenging aspect of my role was screening Bryant's emails, calls, mail, and visitors. Everyone seemed to "need" to speak with him, and every matter was deemed a "priority."

One of the perks of being his PA was accompanying him on business trips. Although they weren't necessarily enjoyable, since my time was rarely my own during those trips, I appreciated the opportunity. I had the chance to travel on private jets, stay in luxurious hotels, and attend exclusive events.

I found myself engrossed in an expense report for his previous business trip when Bryant emerged from his office, and I realized that almost an hour had passed. My heart sank. Soon enough, he and I were making our way to one of the conference rooms for a meeting.

I was irritated with myself for caring about Gary's presence. I didn't want it to affect me. I didn't want him to matter. He didn't deserve to. Not that I was still hurting from what he had done. But I disliked being reminded of that time; how insignificant he made me feel when he not only ended our relationship but also completely cut me out of his life.

Perhaps it wouldn't have hurt as much if we hadn't been friends for so long. I didn't trust easily, but I trusted Gary. I never anticipated that he would sever all contact between us so effortlessly. It stung that he could do it without a second thought.

As we approached the conference room, Bryant paused at the door and turned to me. "Is there something I should be aware of?"

I blinked, taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"You seem uncomfortable. Why?"

Ah, yes, he was perceptive. "I could tell you, but it involves discussing feminine products—"

"No need for the details," he interrupted.

I almost snickered.

Bryant entered the room first, and the three men gathered around the long table instantly stood up. After exchanging greetings and the visitors had finished showering Bryant with compliments, he gestured towards me and said, "This is my PA, Lysandra."

A tall, well-groomed figure moved aside to get a better look at me. It was Gary. Clearly, karma hadn't caught up with him yet, as he appeared even more handsome than he did seven years ago. He had gained more muscle definition and exuded confidence, but he no longer made my heart skip a beat the way he used to.

He blinked. "Vee? Jesus." He took a step forward, as if he might embrace me, but Bryant subtly shifted his body to the side. It was enough to make Gary pause, although he didn't spare my boss a glance.

I offered him a professional, distant smile. "Gary, it's good to see you."

"You... you look great. It's been a while. Too long. I didn't realize you worked at o-Verve."

Well, why would he?

One of the other men interjected, "You two know each other?"

"We were childhood friends, but we lost touch," I shrugged. "It happens."

Bryant swiftly introduced me to Gary's companions, and then he suggested, more like instructed, "Shall we sit?"

As usual, I occupied the seat beside Bryant and silently took notes on my tablet. During internal meetings, I often contributed to the discussions. However, when Bryant met with external individuals, such as CEOs, stakeholders, or potential clients, I left the conversation and negotiations to them.

As the meeting progressed, I pretended not to notice Gary's excessive glances in my direction, just as I pretended that Bryant wasn't observing both me and Gary intently. If I focused hard enough on the tablet screen, I could convince myself that I was alone and their voices were merely coming through a speakerphone.

I couldn't help but notice that the visitors seemed somewhat in awe of Bryant. It wasn't surprising at all. When it came to business matters, he was exceptional. He possessed an innate ability to get to the core of any issue. In his pursuit of a solution, he never gave up or moved on. Instead, he rose to every challenge and propelled his goals forward.

What others deemed impossible, he transformed into reality with a few calculated and flawlessly executed moves, overcoming any obstacles or setbacks along the way. He was also formidable in the boardroom, earning a reputation for being unwavering in the face of competitors.

Considering all this, I anticipated the meeting to drag on indefinitely, but time flew by. Before long, people were shaking hands and bidding their farewells.

Gary flashed me another smile. "It was really good seeing you again, Vee."

"Likewise," I lied.

Once we were alone, Bryant fixed me with his piercing gaze. "How well do you know Gary? There's more to your relationship than just childhood friends. He made you uncomfortable. Why?"

Ugh. "We were engaged for five months when we were teenagers. It was a bit awkward seeing him again after all this time. But I wouldn't expect you to understand, Mr. Dauntless. Has anyone ever made you feel uncomfortable?"

"No." He gripped the door handle. "We need to talk later."

"Sounds ominous. Are you going to fire me?"

"Is there a reason for me to fire you?"

A memory of me flipping off his brother earlier flashed through my mind. "Probably."

The corner of his mouth almost twitched. "Your job is safe. For now."

Chapter Two

As the sun began its descent, I parked my car in the dimly lit lot outside my apartment building. Grateful that dusk hadn't fully enveloped the area, I reached into my bag and retrieved my can of pepper spray. Though the walk to my building was short, caution was always necessary.

   Stepping out of my car, I locked it with the remote fob and surveyed my surroundings. No one lingered nearby. The only sounds were the clacking of my heels against the pavement and the distant hum of street traffic.

   Making my way across the cracked pavement, I deftly avoided the cans, wrappers, and crinkled flyers scattered near the overflowing trash can.

   I could have afforded to live in a nicer neighborhood, but being close to my family, especially my father Josiah, was more important to me.

   Inside the building, I rode the elevator up to my floor and entered my apartment. I tossed my coat onto the back of the armchair and slipped off my shoes. Changing into comfortable sweats, I headed into the kitchen and sighed at the sound of raised voices coming from next door. The walls of my apartment were frustratingly thin, and it seemed that my neighbors had a knack for arguing at a volume that could wake the dead.

   Caroline and Leo were actually incredibly nice people. Caroline had become a close friend of mine, and Leo was an impossible-to-dislike teddy bear. But when they argued, they really went for it. Caroline would storm out, and without fail, she would come knocking on my door to vent about whatever transgression Leo had committed.

   Thankfully, the argument hadn't erupted until after I had finished my bath. I cherished the quiet time to unwind and relax before dinner.

   Too exhausted to cook, I rummaged through the freezer and retrieved a microwavable mac and cheese meal. It might not have been the healthiest option, but it would do.

   Just as I closed the freezer door, I nearly knocked down one of the drawings attached to it with magnets. I gently traced my fingers over the sheet of paper. Five stick figures adorned the page, labeled with the names Maggie, Josiah, Freddie, Lysandra, and Deacon in Freddie's childlike scrawl. The first four figures stood together, but the fifth stood alone—Deacon always did.

   A pang of sadness tugged at my heart. I wished there was more I could do to help them, especially Josiah, but my power was limited. And I despised that fact.

   Once my meal was ready, I settled at my small dining table and dug into my mac and cheese. Unfortunately, my neighbors continued their argument, the volume escalating with each passing moment.

   Closing my eyes, I yearned for silence, knowing all too well that it could always be worse. This area of Redwater City, Florida may not have been glamorous, but it was better than most. My building was secure and stable. Although my apartment was small and cramped, it was clean and well-maintained, unlike the one I had lived in as a child.

   I could still recall the stale air, the stench of spoiled food, cigarette smoke, and body odor that greeted me each morning. The taste of rusty water lingered in my memory. I remembered the suffocating heat when the air conditioning failed, the sink filled with dirty dishes, the piles of unwashed laundry, and the rats... God, the rats.

   More than anything, I remembered the searing pain of a palm striking my face with brutal force, the feeling of my eye exploding. Hands pushing me forcefully, feet kicking my legs or ribs, fingertips digging into my jaw while my mother screamed in my face. Her departure should have been a relief, but it only caused my world to crumble. Still, I was grateful for Nerissa and Zephyr, the foster parents who had always supported my relationship with my father, even if our early years together had been far from smooth sailing.

   The sound of a door slamming shut abruptly ended the argument. Moments later, there was a forceful knock on my front door. Pushing myself out of my chair, I left the tiny kitchen and crossed the equally small living area. Opening the front door, I welcomed Caroline inside.

   "That man thinks he can lie to me and get away with it," Caroline seethed, a flush coloring her dark skin. "No way. Not as long as I'm alive."

   A hint of amusement tugged at my lips as I followed her into the kitchen. She seemed ready to make herself a cup of coffee, but her attention shifted to the aroma of my mac and cheese. "Smells good." She sat down at the table. "Are you finished with this?" she asked, helping herself to my food.

   I smiled. "I am now." Taking the seat across from her, I tilted my head. "So, what happened?"

   Caroline shoveled a forkful of food into her mouth. "I had a dream that he cheated on me."

   I waited for her to elaborate, but she remained silent. "Alright."

   "I confronted him about it. He denied it, but I caught him blinking when he said it."

   I would have chuckled if Caroline's expression hadn't been so serious. "I don't think he would ever cheat on you. He loves you." Leo worshipped the ground she walked on, and Caroline adored him just as fiercely. Though she may have had a tougher exterior, she was a softie on the inside.

   Caroline sniffed. "Hmph. He liked some woman's photo on social media. When I called him out on it, he accused me of cyberstalking him. As if I have time to keep tabs on his lying ass. And what's wrong with logging into his account from time to time? How is that a problem?"

   "He's probably just hurt that you don't trust him."

   "I trust him with my life."I have this nagging feeling that he's up to some foolishness online. He's always denying it, but I can clearly see when he messes with the thermostat."

   Another knock echoed through the front door, this time more gentle. "That must be him," I said, pushing myself up from my seat.

   Caroline straightened in her chair, a detached expression on her face. "Most likely." She didn't bother getting up.

   Leaving the kitchen behind, I made my way to the door. Opening it wide, I greeted Leo with a smile. The man stood at an impressive six foot seven, built like a linebacker, yet as gentle as a lamb.

   "Hey, Lysandra," he greeted, his manners always impeccable.

   "Hello, Leo."

   "Is Caroline here?"

   "She is. Come in." I closed the door after he entered. "She's in the kitchen."

   He thanked me and headed towards the kitchen, closing the door behind him. I settled onto the sofa in the living room, giving them their privacy. Their voices reached me, muffled at first, but gradually softening. It made me smile. They reminded me of Nerissa and Zephyr, my foster parents. They argued about the strangest things, but they were a tight-knit and happy couple.

   The intercom buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I furrowed my brow. Apparently, I was quite popular today.

   Walking over to the wall-mounted control panel, I pressed the intercom button. "Hello?" I spoke into the microphone.

   "It's me," a deep, distinctive voice rumbled through the speaker, vibrating with testosterone.

   I almost jumped back in surprise. In the four years I had worked for Bryant, he had never come to my home. Not once. So, this was definitely new.

   "We need to talk," he added quickly.

   Yes, he had mentioned that earlier, but I didn't realize it meant we would be having the conversation here. He left o-Verve at 4 p.m. and hadn't returned by 6 p.m. Thinking we could postpone the discussion until tomorrow, I had left the office.

   Curiosity about what was so important that it couldn't wait got the better of me. I pressed the button that unlocked the main door to the complex. It didn't take long for him to arrive at my apartment. Spotting him through the peephole, I opened the door.

   "Bryant," I greeted simply, ignoring the sudden awakening of my feminine desires. It wasn't fair that this attraction towards him was so relentless. I was too vulnerable to him, too defenseless against the one-way chemistry that refused to back down.

   I had read somewhere that chemistry couldn't possibly be one-sided, but my situation proved that theory wrong. The undeniable, inexplicable force always hung in the air whenever I was near him. It made my nerves tingle and my body hyper-aware. But it was clear as day that my boss was completely unaffected.

   His eyes swept over me, and I suddenly became acutely aware of my appearance. Dressed in sweats with my hair haphazardly tied up, he had never seen me in anything other than business attire. At work, my hair was always styled into a sleek, professional bun.

   Stepping aside, I allowed him to enter. His all-knowing gaze took in our surroundings, and I fought back a blush. At work, I was hyper-organized. At home? Not so much. Maybe because I needed a break from being hyper-organized for the majority of the day. My home was clean, but no matter how many times I decluttered, things never stayed in their designated places.

   Piles of unopened mail, books, and papers were haphazardly stacked on the coffee table. Change, receipts, and random cosmetic items littered the fireplace mantel. Jackets had been carelessly tossed over the armchair. My e-reader, a blanket, and a half-eaten box of chocolates were strewn across one side of the sofa.

   Bryant took it all in before raising an eyebrow at me.

   I shrugged. "I was playing a game of Jumanji. It tends to get messy. So, why are you here? Is something wrong?"

   Just then, my neighbors emerged from the kitchen, hand in hand. They both froze at the sight of Bryant. Leo seemed to grow taller, a protective aura surrounding him like a big brother I never had.

   "Bryant, these are my friends and neighbors, Caroline and Leo. Guys, this is my boss, Bryant Hayes."

   Leo nodded his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Pleasure to meet you."

   Caroline fanned herself dramatically. "Lysandra didn't mention how attractive you are."

   Leo glared at his girlfriend. "I'm standing right here."

   "It was merely an observation." Caroline smiled at me and waved her fingers. "See you tomorrow, Lysandra. Goodbye, Bryant."

   He didn't respond, but I said my goodbyes and locked the door behind them.

   "Do you have any coffee?" Bryant asked as I turned to face him.

   "Of course." I padded into the kitchen, aware that he was following closely behind. He settled at the table while I cleared its surface and prepared our drinks. Once I placed our coffees down, I took the chair opposite him. His gaze lingered on the drawings adorning my fridge.

   Before he could inquire about them, I prompted, "So, you came here because...?"

   He slid his mug closer to him. "I have news."

   "News?"

   "I'm getting married."

   My stomach dropped, twisting painfully. A heavy pressure began to build in my chest, and I swallowed hard. "Really? Well, congratulations." My words rang hollow. "I didn't realize you were seeing someone."

   "I'm not."

   Confusion furrowed my brow. "I don't understand."

   "My paternal uncle was a wealthy man who made various lucrative investments. Hugh set up trust funds for me and my two brothers."He bequeathed us with stocks, shares, money, properties, and even art. However, there's a catch. Just like my brothers, I can't access the trust fund ... until I'm married."

"But, why?"

Bryant took a sip of his coffee, his eyes lost in thought. "Hugh never tied the knot. He was consumed by work. Only later in life did he realize his mistake. He used to question the purpose of owning such an enormous mansion when he was the sole inhabitant. We were the closest thing he had to children. He pushed us to be successful but reminded us not to neglect our personal lives. He didn't want us to repeat his errors."

"Thus, the clause."

"Yes. There's another twist. If I haven't married by the time I turn thirty-eight, the assets in my trust fund will be divided among my brothers."

Essentially, this pressured him to fulfill his uncle's wishes. "Wow. He really wanted you guys to get married."

"More than that, he wanted to ensure we didn't wait until it was too late to find someone to share our lives with. It worked for Kasen and Kent. They both tied the knot at a young age."

"Is it common for people to attach conditions to trust funds?"

"It's not unheard of. I know someone who couldn't access their trust fund unless they married someone of a specific religion. Hugh wasn't as concerned about who we married as he was about when we married."

"You're thirty-seven now," I recalled.

"Yes. And I have no interest in marriage now or ever. I don't even desire a relationship."

"So you're only getting married to gain access to your trust fund?"

Bryant shrugged. "There are more frivolous reasons to get married. It's not about the money, Lysandra. Hugh left me things that hold sentimental value. They're mine. And I don't want any of the assets to end up in Kasen's hands. He would squander most of it through gambling, and his wife, Hope, would waste the rest. Kent said he'd hand me his share since it rightfully belongs to me, but I can't be certain if he truly would."

I nodded. "Okay. I understand." It wasn't my belongings, so I had no say in how the situation should be handled, right?

Bryant observed me carefully, lifting his mug for another sip of coffee. "I need you to do something for me."

If he asked me to choose wedding invitations or something similar, I wouldn't be pleased. I could support him getting married, but the thought of him being with someone else didn't sit well with me. It seemed my crush on him wasn't as insignificant as I had believed. "What?"

"Marry me."

My lips parted, and I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper. "You're serious, aren't you?" It wasn't a question; it was a shocked realization. Bryant never joked.

"It will only be for show. We won't need to stay married for long." He raised an eyebrow. "I did warn you that one day, I would call in my favor."

Yes, he had. But I never imagined he would ask this of me. My heart started racing, and suddenly, my chest felt constricted. "Bryant..."

"You said you would repay the favor when the time came."

I had agreed because I had been immensely grateful to him. My despicable ex-boyfriend, bitter after our breakup, had secretly filmed us having sex. He threatened to post the video online unless I complied with his demands. And what did he want? Either a large sum of money I couldn't afford or a live sexual performance in front of a camera.

I had heard about sextortion, but I never thought I would become a victim. I knew that if the video he had taken ever went public, I would lose everything. It felt like my entire world was falling apart.

Bryant overheard me arguing with my ex over the phone. He demanded to know the details and promised to "take care of it." A day later, he declared that the video no longer existed and that my ex would never bother me again. I asked Bryant how he resolved the matter, but he was vague. We hadn't spoken of it since.

"Are you going back on your word?" he asked.

I licked my lips. "Bryant, you're an incredibly desirable man. You don't need to call in a favor to find a woman to marry you."

"I don't want the complications of a real marriage. I enjoy being alone. I want someone who will play the role of my wife and then quietly sign the divorce papers when it's over. That's all. But it needs to appear genuine because Kasen and Hope are eagerly eyeing my trust fund. They believe they will get their hands on his share. If they can prove the marriage is fake, they will."

"Have you considered that I might be seeing someone?"

"No, because you never complain when I call you on weekends, no matter the hour. You don't tell me you have plans when I ask you to stay late or attend a last-minute meeting or business event."

"Well, being your personal assistant takes up a lot of my time," I replied, feeling slightly defensive. "Why me, though? Why ask me to play the part of your wife?"

"I've never hidden my aversion to relationships. I rarely date the same woman twice, and I don't invest time in getting to know them. People would find it hard to believe that I suddenly fell head over heels for a relative stranger. It would raise suspicions, especially among those aware of the conditions attached to my trust fund, wouldn't it?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"You've been my personal assistant for four years now. We see each other every day. It wouldn't be difficult to sell a story that we grew close, fought our feelings for a while, finally acted on them, but kept it a secret. It's not like it hasn't happened to other couples before."That much was painfully clear.

"You would've been my top choice regardless," he said, his voice brimming with sincerity. "I trust you implicitly. My competitors have tried to hire you as a spy or lure you away from o-Verve, but you've remained loyal. And let's not forget about that poker face of yours. We're going to need it if we want to pull this off."

I slumped in my seat, feeling the weight of the unexpected turn my evening had taken. Shaking things up was one thing, but this was not what I had in mind.

Taking a sip of my coffee, its taste barely registering, I spoke. "You have a whole year before you have to get married. You might meet someone who changes your mind about marriage within that time."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "That's not going to happen, Lysandra. This isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. I've thought it through. Every detail. You and I can make this work."

I poked my tongue into the inside of my cheek, contemplating his proposal. "If we do go through with it, how long will we have to stay married?"

"At least twelve months. I have to be married for a full year before I can access my trust fund."

My eyes widened at his revelation. "Wow, your uncle really covered all his bases."

"He certainly did," Bryant agreed, a muscle in his cheek twitching. "He must have known that neither my brothers nor I could resist marrying solely for the money. By forcing us to stay married for a year, he hoped we might find some happiness in the arrangement and choose to make it real."

I could sense his frustration, but I also knew his uncle meant well. "He didn't want you to be alone, Bryant. He wanted you to have companionship."

"Yes, but he failed to consider that not everyone is like him. If, by some miracle, I decide later in life that I want a genuine marriage, then I'll pursue it. But for now, it's not what I want."

I inwardly sighed, torn between wanting to help him and the weight of such a significant commitment. But then again, dealing with the sextortion situation hadn't been a small feat either.

I scratched my head, contemplating his proposition. "You said this marriage would be purely for show. No emotions, no expectations, no sex—just a fake couple?"

He nodded. "Exactly."

"Honestly, I don't see how it could work. You're a highly sexual person, Bryant. There's no way you'd stay celibate for an entire fake marriage. And if I were playing the role of your wife, I wouldn't want to be known as the poor woman being cheated on left and right by her 'loving' husband."

His brows furrowed. "I'm not a slave to my desires, Lysandra. I can go without sex if necessary. And I would have to, considering Kasen will have me under surveillance. You'd have to take a temporary vow of celibacy as well."

I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Not that I had much of a sex life to begin with, unless the nights spent with my trusty vibrator counted. "I'm not sure people would buy that we're a couple."

"Plenty of people already think we're sleeping together."

"They do? Why?"

"Because you've stuck around this long, and I've never threatened to fire you," he replied, his eyes burning with intensity. "Say yes, Lysandra."

I groaned, feeling the weight of the decision bearing down on me. "I'd end up with a divorce at twenty-five. Well, twenty-six by the time we separate, right?" Moreover, if I ever found someone I truly loved and remarried, I wouldn't be able to explain that my previous marriage had been a sham. I could never tell my family the truth either.

Could I fool them into believing I loved Bryant? Probably. As he said, I had a good poker face. Even Zephyr struggled to detect when I was lying, and he had an impeccable bullshit meter. But still... "I hate the thought of lying to the people I care about."

"So you told them about the sex video?"

Well, no.

"You don't keep any secrets from them? You think they tell you everything? That they've never lied to you for one reason or another?"

I sighed in defeat. "I understand your point. Everyone lies sometimes, everyone has their secrets."

"I never breathed a word about that sex video. I kept your secret. Would you hesitate to keep one for me? It's not like I'm asking you to do something shameful. If your family knew the truth, they wouldn't vilify you for keeping your word and repaying a favor—especially considering what happened with your ex. But no one besides us can know the marriage is fake, Lysandra."

"My family wouldn't say anything."

"Maybe not, but you'd have to ask them to lie to others, including people they care about. They'd have to put on an act whenever they're around anyone else. Would you feel comfortable asking that of them?"

I exhaled heavily, realizing the unfairness of it all. It would be unjust to involve my family in this deception.

"No, I wouldn't," I admitted. It would be more unfair to ask them to play a part in the charade than for me to lie to them.

"You needed my help two years ago, and I gave it to you."

"I didn't actually ask for your help," I weakly argued.

"No, but you let me take care of the problem for you. And I did. Thoroughly. Now I need something from you."

I closed my eyes, grappling with the weight of his words. Faking a marriage with a man I had feelings for didn't seem wise. Not at all.But whether I liked it or not, I owed Bryant. The alternative was having my sex video plastered all over the internet, a nightmare that would have affected not only me but also my family and loved ones. My ex had made it clear that he would send the video to everyone I cared about, including my boss and coworkers. The humiliation and embarrassment would have been unbearable.

Losing my job would have been inevitable, and finding another one would have been a challenge with that video hanging over my head. Bryant had stepped in to prevent this catastrophe from happening, and I couldn't deny that I owed him for saving me.

I hesitated, then opened my eyes and met Bryant's gaze. "What if someone finds out that our marriage is fake?"

"They won't," he assured me. "And even if they do, you won't face any consequences. I'm the only one who stands to lose anything here, but if I don't take this chance, I'll lose everything anyway."

I searched for another solution, hoping there was an alternative. "Are you sure there's no other way to access the trust fund?"

"If there was, I wouldn't be here now," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "I'm not asking for a lifelong commitment. The marriage will only be on paper, just for a year. Please, Lysandra, help me like I helped you."

I groaned, knowing I had brought this upon myself. I had made a deal with the devil, and now I had to face the consequences. "Okay, I'll do it."

A glimmer of satisfaction danced in Bryant's eyes. "Good," he said, taking a sip of his coffee as if we were discussing something mundane. "So, what's next? Do we elope?"

He chuckled softly. "Not so fast. We need to lay the groundwork first."

"Groundwork?" I asked, puzzled.

He leaned back in his chair, explaining his plan. "I've been attending corporate events without a plus-one for the past two months. People have started to notice and speculate if I'm dating someone. We can use that curiosity to our advantage. When we go on dates, they'll read into everything they see."

"So, you've already set this plan in motion before approaching me," I observed. "Why did you wait two months?"

"I needed to take care of some things and make sure everything was in order," he replied. "If you don't have any plans for Saturday evening, cancel them. That will be our first date."

My stomach churned with nervous anticipation. "Will there be a lot of public displays of affection?"

He shook his head. "No, not too much. We want it to look like we're trying to keep the relationship low-key for now. I prefer my privacy. But we need to continue as usual at work, without mentioning our 'relationship' to anyone."

I nodded, understanding his approach. "Don't confirm it, but don't deny it either."

"Exactly," he agreed. "And as for the engagement, that will become official in July when we're on a business trip to Vegas. We'll get married there too, as if we couldn't wait any longer. It may seem fast, but I'm known for moving quickly when I want something."

Six weeks. That's all the time I had until I would be walking down the aisle. Anxiety coiled in my belly, but I pushed it aside. "Okay, I'm in."

Bryant's gaze softened. "And you'll need to move in with me once we're married."

"What about my apartment?" I asked, concerned about leaving behind the only place that felt like mine.

"It would raise suspicions if we didn't live together," he explained. "I'll buy you another apartment after this is over. I won't let you be homeless, especially when you're giving me a year of your life. Consider it part of the divorce settlement or compensation for any losses. We'll discuss it further when the time comes. For now, let's focus on the upcoming dates and engagement."

A thought crossed my mind, and I furrowed my brow. "You're not going to propose in public, are you?"

Bryant's smile was enigmatic. "We'll see."

Chapter Three

With a sense of anticipation and uncertainty, I retrieved my black, off-the-shoulder dress from the depths of my closet. The skin-tight fabric hugged my curves, exuding both sexiness and elegance. But wearing this daring outfit in front of Bryant, my boss, felt strange.

My eyes shifted towards the more formal dress hanging further down the closet rail. However, Bryant's words from yesterday echoed in my mind, reminding me of his instructions.

"Don't dress as my PA. Wear what you'd wear to go on a date, not what you'd wear to go to a business dinner."

I glanced back at the black dress in my hands, giving it an approving nod. Yes, this was the one. I would apply a light layer of makeup, add some jewelry, maybe curl the ends of my hair and leave it cascading down my shoulders. But first, I needed to take a shower.

As I blew out a breath, my hand instinctively went to my fluttering stomach. First dates were always nerve-wracking, but this wasn't a real date. There was no pressure to impress, no fear of wasting my time, and no need to worry about whether or not my date would find me attractive. Besides, Bryant wasn't a complete stranger. I knew him fairly well.

And yet, despite all this, I couldn't shake off the nerves.

After all, it wasn't every day that a girl went on a fake date with her soon-to-be fake husband.

Acting wouldn't be necessary to appear attracted to him. I just hoped he believed it was all part of the act, because I didn't want him to discover the hidden crush I had managed to conceal so well until now. And how did I know he was oblivious to it? Simple. He hadn't replaced me as his PA. Bryant didn't keep women around who pined after him.

Hopefully, I would continue to hide my true feelings when we started living together. God, was I really going to marry Bryant? Was I truly going to stand before an officiant with him in just six weeks? Would I genuinely become his fake wife for an entire year?

Yes, apparently, that was my reality.

Twelve months may seem like a long time, but in reality, a year could fly by. Every time Christmas rolled around, I often found myself in disbelief that it had arrived so quickly—

A knock interrupted my thoughts. Assuming it was Caroline since no one had buzzed me through the intercom, I carefully laid my dress on the bed and made my way towards the front door. Out of habit, I peered through the peephole, tension coursing through me. But I continued looking, unable to believe what I saw. He couldn't have possibly found out where I lived and come all the way here.

Gary knocked again, adjusting his tie with his free hand.

I stepped back, running my fingers through my hair. I couldn't fathom what had brought him here, and part of me didn't want to know. I could ignore him, of course, but he would only return. Gary was relentless like that.

Reluctantly, I unlocked the door and swung it open.

A smile curved on Gary's lips. "Hi, Vee."

"How did you get into the building?" I asked, not feeling particularly welcoming.

"I was about to buzz you when someone opened the main door to leave the complex. I slipped inside before it closed." He took a slow step forward. "I was hoping we could talk."

"Talk?"

"Can I come in?"

"I have somewhere to be soon."

"Just ten minutes. Please. Or perhaps we could meet for lunch tomorrow."

Meet? Lunch? No, I needed to find out now why he had shown up unannounced. I opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Ten minutes."

He walked in as if he owned the place, his gaze sweeping around. One corner of his mouth lifted. "So, you're still surrounded by clutter."

I gave him a Bryant-like "Hmm," gesturing towards the sofa before sinking into the armchair. "What can I do for you?"

He perched himself on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I just…" He licked his lips. "Seeing you again the other day was a shock. I had no idea you worked at o-Verve. I purposely avoided looking you up all these years. I didn't want to know if you were married."

"I heard you are."

He grimaced. "Tiffany and I have actually filed for divorce. People change as they get older. We've become more like housemates who get along well, but we work together at the same company."

"I'm sorry to hear about your impending divorce. It must be tough for your child."

"She's a little firecracker," he said, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Only five, but ready to conquer the world." He pulled out his phone from his pocket and pressed a button, revealing a picture of a captivating little girl with dimples and dark curls. "This is her."

I looked at the photo, feeling my own smile appear. She was adorable, with an uncanny resemblance to his mother. "She takes after your mom."

"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes fixed on the picture. "Her name is Lysandra. I named her after the sweetest, strongest girl I ever met."

Perhaps I should have felt touched or humbled, but instead, a cold anger flickered within me.This bastard had dumped me, vanished from my life, ruined a friendship I cherished...and he had the audacity to name his kid after me? What the hell was going through his mind?

"Do you not think it's messed up, not to mention incredibly unfair to her and her mother, that you named your daughter after your ex-girlfriend?" I questioned, unable to hide my disbelief.

"Ex-fiancée," he corrected, rubbing his forehead. He let out a sigh before continuing, "I didn't see it that way, really. I just...a part of me wanted to honor you. So many people tried to bring me down, told me I'd never amount to anything. But you, you always supported and encouraged me. You believed in me, even when I called off our engagement."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I guess I just figured it wasn't meant to be."

"But what if you were wrong? What if it was meant to be, and I just lost sight of that for a while?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

He couldn't be serious. "Gary—"

"For me, you were the one that got away, Vee. I know it sounds cliché, but it's true. Seeing you again brought back everything. I can tell you still care about me. Deep down, you do."

"No, Gary, I really don't," I replied firmly.

He smiled, convinced of his own delusion. "Yes, you do. And I still care about you. You have no idea how many times you crossed my mind over the years. I even thought about you on my wedding day." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "Breaking things off with you was the stupidest mistake I've ever made. I'm so sorry for hurting you. It won't happen again. Please, give me another chance—"

"I'm seeing someone," I blurted out.

He froze, his eyes flickering with surprise. "Seeing someone?"

"Yes." It may have been a fake relationship, but I was committed nonetheless. And if I didn't mention it now and he found out later that I was dating Bryant, it would raise questions.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process the information. "Well, it can't be serious. You don't live with him. You're not spending Saturday evening with him."

"I'm meeting him later tonight, which is why you really need to go," I urged, getting to my feet. "I have to get ready."

He stood up slowly, studying my face intently. "Does he make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't think that's true. Call it a gut feeling."

"Believe what you want," I said, walking towards the door. I opened it wide. "It was nice seeing you again, Gary. I genuinely wish you well. But I need you to leave, and I'd prefer if you didn't come back. The past is better left where it belongs—in the past."

Seconds passed as he stared at me, silent. Finally, he walked out of the apartment. "I'm not giving up, Vee," he said just as I was about to close the door. "I messed up once, and I know what I lost. I won't lose it again." Then he disappeared.

Cursing under my breath, I closed the door, regretting that I had even answered it in the first place.

Did his declaration move me? Not even remotely.

I wasn't one to hold grudges or refuse apologies, but if someone sincerely screwed me over, a mental wall would erect itself between us. It wasn't intentional, just a self-defense mechanism that had protected me from my foster sister's hurtful words and actions for a long time.

A wall had formed between Gary and me when he called off the engagement, insinuating that I had somehow tricked him into proposing against his better judgment. He claimed he needed to focus on moving forward with his life, as if I would hold him back. I understood what he truly meant—he wanted to leave his past behind, start fresh, and become someone new.

I comprehended it all, so I didn't vilify him for it. But I despised how he made me feel inadequate, like I wasn't good enough to be part of his envisioned future or fit into the new image he sought. That instant, my defenses went up, shielding me from the pain and enabling me to move on from Gary faster than I would have otherwise.

If he genuinely believed I still cared for him, he was dead wrong. I didn't wish him harm, but I wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.

Determined to push him out of my mind, I headed to the bathroom to get ready for my fake date with my fake secret boyfriend.

Later, I walked out of my apartment complex towards the sleek, elegant black car parked at the curb. I smiled at the broad figure who opened the rear door for me. "Hi, Sam, how are you?" My voice and expression betrayed none of the nerves still coursing through me.

"I'm well, Miss Stratton," Bryant's driver replied. "And you?"

"Fine, thanks." I slid onto the warm, butter-soft leather seat and glanced at the dangerously attractive man beside me, engrossed in his phone, likely responding to a business email.

My breath hitched at the sight of him in a perfectly tailored charcoal shirt and black slacks that accentuated his epic butt. I saw him in impeccably fitted suits every day, always effortlessly groomed, smelling incredible, and exuding raw sex appeal. It never got old—my pulse still quickened.

"Bryant," I greeted nonchalantly, aiming for indifference.

His intense gaze snapped to me.If I hadn't been so observant, I might have missed the subtle change in his demeanor. But I was watching him closely, and I noticed how he stiffened ever so slightly. His eyes traveled up and down my figure, taking in every detail from my flowing hair to my strappy high heels. I could feel his gaze lingering on the thigh slit of my dress, a slow and deliberate appraisal that sent a shiver down my spine.

He nodded, as if he were assessing an object, and then turned back to his phone. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"So, where are we going?" I asked as Sam pulled onto the road.

Bryant's thumbs flew across the screen of his phone, his attention divided between me and his device. "We're going to a prestigious restaurant," he replied. "A place where we'll be recognized by many of the people I know and do business with."

I didn't bother trying to keep the conversation going. It was clear that he was always busy, constantly working. I often wondered how he managed to handle being in such high demand without losing his mind.

As I twirled my ankle nervously, I realized that it wasn't just nerves that were making me restless. I couldn't shake off the annoyance I felt towards Gary. He had no right to show up at my home and... No, I refused to think about him. I wouldn't let myself dwell on the things he had said.

Turning my attention to the window, I rested my hands on my lap and tried to calm my racing thoughts. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake off the unease that was gnawing at me.

"What's bothering you?" Bryant's voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked at him and shrugged. "Nothing."

"You're clearly annoyed about something," he pressed. "Tell me what it is."

"It's not important," I replied dismissively.

"But it's bothering you enough that you look ready to punch someone," he insisted. He pocketed his phone and raised the privacy screen between us and the driver. "Tonight, I need you to focus on us. Your mind can't be elsewhere. So, tell me what's wrong."

I let out a sigh of frustration. "Gary paid me a visit earlier."

A flicker of hardness crossed Bryant's face. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to talk," I said, choosing not to go into detail. "He might become a problem."

"He wants you back," Bryant guessed, his tone clipped. "But I thought he was married."

"He and his wife are getting a divorce," I explained. "I told him that I'm involved with someone, but I didn't mention who."

"Did that deter him?"

"No, but he'll back off eventually."

"If it comes to it, I'll handle him," Bryant said, adjusting his cufflink. "Who ended the engagement? You or him?"

"He ended it," I reluctantly admitted.

"Why?"

I groaned inwardly. "Do we really have to talk about this?"

"If we're going to pull off our act, I need to know," he replied. "A woman would normally tell her new partner why she broke up with her ex, right?"

I nodded. "He wanted a fresh start, a chance to reinvent himself. And that meant leaving behind anything or anyone from his past."

"I see. Did you give him a piece of your mind?"

"No. I wished him well and hung up."

Bryant's eyebrows furrowed. "He broke off the engagement over the phone?"

I nodded curtly. "Now you understand why I wasn't thrilled to see him at o-Verve."

"Does he have a chance of winning you back?"

"Hell no."

Bryant's gaze locked with mine. "You need to be sure, Lysandra. I can't have you backing out in a few months, claiming that you still love him."

"That will never happen," I assured him. "I don't love him, and I won't abandon you like that."

"Are you in this until the end?" he asked, his voice firm.

"Yes, you have my word," I replied. "And you know I keep my promises."

Just then, the car began to slow down. I looked out the window and spotted the restaurant in the distance.

"We're here," Bryant said. "Remember, the moment we step out of this car, it's showtime."

"Lights, camera, action," I added with a smile.

"Yes, and we'll stay in character until the end of the night," he said. "I trust Sam, but even he can't know that this isn't real. He doesn't have your poker face. If anyone asks him about us, they'll see right through his lies."

"I understand," I replied.

The car door opened, and Sam escorted me to the other side where Bryant was waiting. As I turned to face the restaurant, I could sense Bryant's sharp intake of breath behind me. The back of my dress revealed a tasteful V dip, exposing most of my bare back.

Without hesitation, Bryant placed his hand on my lower back, just above my butt. It was possessive and bold, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Confidently, he guided me into the restaurant, his hand exerting a gentle but firm pressure. Inside, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the elegant surroundings. This was no ordinary restaurant. There were no casual booths or TVs mounted on the walls. The tables were not piled with dirty dishes, and the waitresses were not dressed in mini-skirts.

Instead, the restaurant exuded sophistication. Well-dressed men and women filled the space, and the waitstaff matched the patrons in their smart attire.

The air was filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the gentle melodies of classical music playing in the background.The place exuded an air of charm and elegance, with its lavish decor, hanging chandeliers, and sparkling crystal dishware. Soft, dim lighting and flickering candles added a cozy, intimate touch, smoothing out any pretentiousness that may have lingered.

As we were escorted across the marble floor, my high heels click-clacked in rhythm. The table near the large window awaited us, a prime spot indeed. Bryant pulled out my chair, his touch grazing my earlobe gently. "I like the earrings," he murmured, his voice carrying a subtle flirtatious undertone.

I couldn't help but be taken aback by his smoothness. Playing my part, I responded with a smile that held a hint of flirtation. Seating myself on the plush chair, he slid it effortlessly closer to the table.

Without wasting a moment, Bryant ordered a bottle of red wine, remembering my preference. His perceptive nature never failed to amaze me. As the waiter handed us menus and discreetly disappeared, Bryant made slight adjustments to the position of the candles, the floral centerpiece, and even the salt and pepper shakers. It wasn't fidgeting; it was a deliberate act of claiming the space and making it his own.

Glancing at the menu, I wasn't surprised to find an array of gourmet dishes. Prime rib seemed like a safe choice, although this wasn't exactly my scene. Italian food, especially pizza, was more my speed.

"You look different with your hair down," Bryant remarked, his eyes tracing the length of my hair.

"It wouldn't have been professional to show up at the office like this," I replied, lowering the menu.

He hummed in response, his gaze lingering on my hair as if he had actually touched it.

"I didn't expect you to bring me here," I confessed.

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm usually the one making dinner reservations for you and your lady friends. This isn't where you take them."

He smiled knowingly. "That's precisely why I brought you here. If this were a serious date, it would be somewhere different from where I took the others. I want you to know that I don't see you as a mere companion for the evening."

I nodded, understanding his intention. "Got it."

As the waiter returned with our wine and took our orders, Bryant lifted his glass. "Tell me about your family," he prompted.

My stomach tightened at the thought. "My family?" I repeated.

Bryant raised an eyebrow. "Couples often share details about their families, don't they?"

Suppressing a sigh, I smoothed out a wrinkle on the white tablecloth. "There's my dad, Josiah. We're quite close. And then there are my foster parents, Zephyr and Nerissa. I see them often."

"What about your biological mother?" he inquired.

A surge of emotion welled up within me, but I kept my composure. "I haven't seen her since social services took me away as a child. As for siblings, I'm an only child. There were many who came and went during my time in foster care, but none stayed long enough for a real bond to form."

"Your foster parents don't have any biological children?" Bryant probed further.

"They have one. A daughter named Heather. She's a few years older than me," I revealed.

"But you don't consider her a sister?" he pressed, sensing there was more to the story.

After everything she had put me through, absolutely not. "We've never really gotten along. But her son is a sweet kid." Heather had intentionally gotten pregnant by a wealthy man and now relied on child support payments as if it were an accomplishment, akin to earning a college degree.

Bryant raised his glass in acknowledgment. "Impressive, Lysandra."

"Excuse me?" I questioned, caught off guard by his response.

"You managed to answer my questions without revealing much information," he explained.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Just practicing the art of being vague and evasive. I thought you'd appreciate it." Taking a sip of my wine, I continued, "I know you have two siblings but no nieces or nephews, and I know you lived with your uncle for a brief period. That's pretty much it."

Bryant fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. "My mother passed away from cancer when I was young. My father died when I was fifteen. After that, my uncle took in me and my siblings, but he succumbed to heart failure a few years ago."

I anticipated him sharing more, noting the deliberate omission regarding his father's cause of death. However, he remained tight-lipped. "Now who's being vague and evasive?" I teased.

"There isn't much else to say," he responded cryptically.

I suspected there was more he chose not to reveal, just as I had kept certain aspects of my own family hidden. Deciding not to press further, I shifted my attention to the arrival of our food. We engaged in conversation as we savored our meal. Bryant refrained from physical contact, yet his unwavering focus on me made it unnecessary. Each word I spoke seemed to hold immense value in his eyes.

Occasionally, his gaze would drift to my lips while I spoke, only to lock back onto mine with an electric intensity that left me breathless. I couldn't help but notice his fascination with my hair, as if he longed to reach out and run his fingers through it.

The atmosphere grew increasingly heated, despite my knowledge that none of this was genuine. I understood that his attraction to me was merely a facade. Yet, my body responded to the intoxicating, sensual energy in the air, leaving me feeling flushed and unsettled.I couldn't help but ponder the nature of Bryant's approach. Would he seduce the girl lazily, with control, or would he abandon that restraint and boldly take what he desired? These were age-old questions, lingering in my mind.

With my meal finished, I took a soothing sip of wine, aware of the many curious eyes upon us. "I didn't expect people to pay us much attention. We've dined together before."

"At business lunches or dinners. Never alone."

"People might not assume it's a date since you don't date," I reasoned.

He gave me a look that questioned my intelligence. "They're looking at you in that alluring dress, and they know for sure it's a date."

My brow furrowed. "This is not an alluring dress."

Leaning forward, he challenged me. "No man who sees you in that will think of anything other than having you beneath him all night long. So yes, Lysandra, it's an alluring dress."

I almost asked if he included himself in that category, but I knew it would be unwise. It was crucial to maintain clear boundaries. "Whatever. If it helps with our pretense, all the better." To play up to our audience, I reached over and grazed my finger along his watch, lightly brushing against his wrist. "What time is it?"

He finished his wine. "Almost time to leave."

He settled the bill, glaring at me when I offered to split it with him. As if I was trying to emasculate him or something.

I rose from the table and skirted around it, with him on his feet, cupping my elbow and urging me to pass him. The gentle brush of his lips against my temple sent my pulse racing.

Once again, his hand rested on my lower back as he guided me across the room. The warmth of his fingers against my bare skin was a tantalizing tease. My body was hyper-aware, buzzing with a lingering sexual tension.

Noticing a familiar figure emerging from the restrooms, I almost groaned. "Hope's here," I whispered to him.

Kasen's wife was stunning. Her flawless skin, sleek black hair, curvy figure, and sweet face were in stark contrast to her personality. She was one of those individuals who had never worked a day in her life and yet looked down upon anyone who didn't earn six figures annually.

She smiled at Bryant, but it faltered when she noticed me. To Hope, any sort of assistant was inferior. "What a surprise," she said to Bryant. "Kasen has been trying to reach you for days. You didn't return his calls."

"I did," he replied. "He simply didn't answer. I don't have the time to chase after him. Is he with you?"

"No, I'm here with friends. It's quite sad that you'd have a business dinner on a Saturday night. You never do anything but work. You should try getting a life."

"I happen to like the life I have."

Her eyes shifted to me, and her lips thinned. "Hello, Vivienne."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She knew perfectly well what my name was.

"If you're attempting to seduce my brother-in-law by dressing like that, it won't work. He never mixes business with pleasure."

"Thank you for the warning," I replied.

"We're leaving now," Bryant interjected, skimming his fingertips down my inner arm before smoothly taking my hand in his. "Enjoy your meal, Hope." With that, he gently pulled me toward the door. I could feel her gaze on us, probably scrutinizing our intertwined hands, but I didn't turn back.

Once we reached the exit, Bryant pushed open the glass door and guided me to the waiting car outside. I assumed he had texted Sam to pick us up.

Inside the car, I waited for Bryant to raise the privacy screen before asking, "Do you think Hope suspects that we were on a date?"

"Yes. She'll probably call Kasen and inform him. He'll likely dismiss it, thinking his world is in order and that I would never fall for a woman. It won't be until he hears about our second date that he'll take notice."

"When are we having our second date?"

"Next Saturday."

"Same time, same place?"

"Same time, different place. Somewhere frequented by people I know."

In other words, another pretentious restaurant. "I should inform my foster parents about our 'relationship' before our second date. The more time they have to get used to it before I announce our engagement, the better chance they'll believe it. I can't just spring an engagement on them."

He nodded. "You'll also need to formally introduce me to them at some point. It might help if they see us together, appearing happy and stable."

"I hate that I'll be lying to them. Won't you hate lying to people too?"

"No."

I blinked. "Just no?"

He shrugged.

"I thought you got along well with Kent, despite your strained relationship with Kasen."

"I do."

"But you're okay with lying to him?"

"My personal life is not his concern. Why I choose to get married is not his concern."

Since even contemplating the wedding had the potential to give me indigestion, I changed the subject. "I assume you don't want me to dress as your PA on our second date either."

A phone pinged, and he retrieved his cell from his pocket. "No, I don't," he replied, his eyes glued to the screen as his thumbs tapped away. "Wear another alluring dress."

I sighed. "It's not an alluring dress."

Chapter Four

Nerissa lifted her coffee mug from the round patio table, her eyes widening as she blinked at me. "You're dating Bryant? Bryant as in your boss Bryant?"

I shifted uncomfortably in the rusty wrought-iron patio chair, feeling the weight of the lie I had to tell my foster parents. Sitting in their backyard, usually a place of relaxation, was anything but today. I took a swig from my beer bottle, bracing myself for the lecture I knew was coming. "Yes."

The silence stretched on, and with each passing moment, my discomfort grew. Ranger, sensing the tension, padded over to me. I stroked his fur, trying to ease my nerves.

Just as I thought the silence would consume us, Nerissa shot Zephyr a smug grin. "Told you."

Confusion creased my brow. "What?"

Zephyr shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. "We're not stupid, sweetheart. We figured out that there was something going on between the two of you. You made it clear that Bryant could be difficult to work for, but you never once mentioned quitting."

Nerissa nodded. "When you first got the job, you warned us not to get too excited, that he might fire you after a week. But weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. Unless there's something we don't know, he's never threatened to fire you."

I defended myself, my voice steady. "I'm good at my job."

"We don't doubt that," Zephyr assured me. "But we know you. We know that if someone pushes your buttons hard enough, you lose all tact. There must have been times when you showed him some attitude."

Okay, so maybe I'd flipped him off or called him an asshole a few times. But I had learned that Bryant appreciated honesty, even if it meant being a little confrontational. Of course, if I had shown attitude in front of others, he would have fired me on the spot.

Nerissa chimed in. "Zephyr said that you and Bryant wouldn't cross the platonic line. But I said it would happen eventually. There's only so long you can fight what you feel for someone. So, who made the first move, you or him?"

I shook my head, not willing to divulge all the details. "Oh no, I'm not getting into the specifics. But I will say that it's serious."

"Serious to you or to both of you?" she asked.

"To both of us." I rubbed my arm, feeling the cool breeze against my skin. "I know it might seem too soon, but after spending every day together for the past four years, our relationship has evolved beyond just coworkers. We've built a solid foundation. It feels right."

Nerissa squeezed my hand. "I'm happy for you, and I hope it works out."

Guilt washed over me as their understanding and support contrasted with my lies. They deserved better.

Zephyr stood up, grabbing firewood from the pile and tossing it into the pit. "Have you told your dad yet?"

I sighed, my worry evident. "Not yet. I will, but I'm afraid he won't take it well. He doesn't handle change easily."

"But your happiness matters to him," Zephyr reminded me. "If he sees that Bryant makes you happy, he'll be pleased for you."

I nodded, considering his words. "Yes, but if Josiah feels threatened or off-balance by my having a man in my life, Deacon might make an appearance."

Zephyr's voice was filled with confidence. "From what you've told us about Deacon, I don't think he would hurt you. He might not be interested in talking to us, but I believe he cares about you."

"He might try to hurt Bryant, though," I admitted. Deacon's anger was a force to be reckoned with. "And that would upset Josiah, Freddie, and Maggie."

Nerissa sighed, her heart breaking for me. "It's a difficult situation, darling."

I nodded, my own heart heavy. "Yeah, it is."

"Does Bryant know about all of this?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Not yet. I'll tell him eventually. It's just hard to explain everything. And the questions that will follow won't be easy to answer."

As if on cue, the sound of a door shutting came from inside the house.

"That's probably Heather and Junior," Nerissa said. "She mentioned she might visit."

I kept my annoyance to myself. I knew it pained Nerissa and Zephyr that Heather and I didn't get along. I wished, for their sake, that we could find some common ground. But even if our history wasn't so complicated, Heather would never want a sisterly relationship with me.

I still hadn't figured out why she despised me so much. Perhaps it was because her parents' attention had always been focused on her until I came along. From the moment I arrived as their first foster child, Heather had made it clear that I was unwelcome.

That was an understatement. She had been a master at bullying and tormenting me.She had battered me, forced dog food down my throat, left visible bite marks on my skin, and brandished a knife on multiple occasions. But that wasn't even the worst of it.

When Nerissa and Zephyr finally discovered the extent of her cruelty, they were both appalled and heartbroken. They cracked down hard on Heather, though their punishment was not physical. It did, however, prove to be highly effective. The abuse came to an end, but her spiteful behavior persisted.

Even as an adult, Heather continued to engage in petty and malicious acts. She would flirt with my boyfriends, cause drama on my birthdays, and belittle me with her cutting remarks. It seemed she had a pathological need to feel superior to everyone, especially me.

Perhaps she was just a miserable person—I was certainly open to that theory. After all, it couldn't be normal to derive perverse pleasure from creating chaos and destruction. It was as if Heather found power in her actions.

I knew Nerissa and Zephyr blamed themselves, constantly questioning where they had gone wrong with her. I despised that. They were good people who deserved better.

Junior came bounding onto the deck, his smile wide and infectious. "Grandma!"

"Hey, mister," Nerissa greeted him, helping him onto her lap. "I've missed you." She showered him with kisses, eliciting giggles from the little one.

I smiled at him. "Hi, kiddo."

He shyly waved at me, knowing better than to show affection in front of his mother—Heather didn't approve. I would give him a hug later when she wasn't looking.

Junior was always dressed in expensive designer clothes, much like his mother. In some ways, she treated him like a doll, an accessory. But at least she wasn't cruel to him. She fed him and kept him clean, which was more than I could say for my own mother.

Heather strolled onto the deck, as if it were her personal catwalk, and gave me a long, scrutinizing look. She said nothing. Instead, she turned to her mother, flipping her glossy brown hair over her shoulder. "Mom, I was hoping you and Dad could watch Junior for me for a few hours. I have a date."

"Of course we will," Nerissa replied.

"We love having our little guy with us," added Zephyr.

It wasn't ideal that she dumped Junior on them so frequently, but at least he was around people who openly showed him love. I had never once seen Heather hug or kiss him.

"Tell me about this man you're seeing," Nerissa inquired.

Heather's red-painted lips curved into a smile. "I met him at a bar last week. His name is Thad Drummond. He's an attorney who lives near the marina. You'd like him. Originally, I was supposed to meet him last night, but... he had to reschedule."

Probably because the guy's wife wanted his company. I had never met Thad, but I knew he was married. How? Simple. Single men held no appeal for Heather. She was only attracted to men who were already taken. Once they left their wives, Heather lost interest and moved on. But not before the man showered her with expensive gifts.

Her eyes darted to me. "Maybe I could ask him if he has a brother for you. It's been ages since you've had a partner. Don't give up just because you struggle to hold onto a man."

"Heather," Zephyr warned.

She widened her eyes innocently. "What? I'm just saying."

"As it happens, Lysandra has a man," Nerissa interjected, squeezing my hand. "I'm genuinely happy for you, sweetheart."

"And who is this man?" Heather asked, her gaze hard.

"His name is Bryant Hayes," Nerissa revealed. "I have to say, I love the name Bryant. I'm really looking forward to meeting him."

"Wait, are you talking about her boss?" Heather turned to me, disbelief etched on her face. "You're dating your boss?"

"Yes," I confirmed, taking a sip of my drink.

"And here I was thinking you were smart." Heather snorted. "Sleeping with your boss is a sure-fire way to eventually lose your job."

"Not if there are serious feelings between them, which there are," Nerissa defended. "Perhaps you could try being happy for her."

Heather's eyes flared with anger. She took a deep breath through her nose and then shrugged. "Whatever. I'll be back in a few hours. Don't worry, I won't be trunk. I mean, drunk."

I narrowed my eyes at her. She had intentionally said "trunk," knowing the memories it would stir up—memories I quickly pushed away.

"Heather," Zephyr snapped.

Smirking, she sashayed back into the house and left.

The tension drained from my shoulders, and I took another sip of my drink. There was a special place in hell reserved just for her. "Junior, where are my cuddles?" After spending a few moments chatting and doting on him, I watched as he crawled into his tent at the back of the yard.

Nerissa placed her hand on my arm. "I'm sorry about Heather, sweetheart."

"You don't need to apologize," I assured her. "You did nothing wrong." Before she could argue otherwise, I added, "On a different note, the dog is trying to dig his way under the fence again."

Zephyr cursed and stood. "Ranger, we've talked about this."

It was truly astonishing how many women tried to find their way into Bryant's office, whether to see him or wait for him. They might as well have shown up naked—I would never know for sure, because I never allowed them inside. No one entered his office without him being present and giving the okay. But the attractive redhead standing in front of me, barely dressed, just didn't seem to understand that.

Candace let out a weary sigh. "I only need a minute of his time."

What people failed to realize was that every minute of Bryant's day was meticulously planned.He would often find himself navigating from one meeting to another, a continuous cycle of internal and external engagements. Some were brief, while others seemed to stretch on for hours. Such was the life of a CEO, a constant whirlwind of responsibilities and obligations.

To ensure he had some respite amidst the chaos, I always reserved an hour in his schedule for any last-minute emergencies or personal reflection. Today, however, there were no fires to put out, and he expressed his desire for an undisturbed hour of solitude.

"If you have any messages, I'll make sure Mr. Hayes receives them," I offered.

She gestured towards his office. "Oh, come on now, he's right there."

"He explicitly instructed me not to disturb him."

A confident, sultry smile curved her lips. "Trust me, he'll want to see me."

I couldn't help but feel exasperated. "If that's the case, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to hear that you left him a message, and he'll get back to you at his earliest convenience."

She narrowed her eyes. "Hope warned me that you might try to prevent me from seeing him. She believes you want him all to yourself. As if you even stood a chance with him." Candace leaned forward, placing both hands on my desk. "I've tried to be nice about this, but I'm getting tired of you. Go and inform him that I'm here, right now, or else I'll have you fired."

How original. "You'll have me fired?"

"I'm one of his sister-in-law's closest friends. Do you really think he'll react kindly when I tell him how rudely you've treated me?"

Leaning closer, I lowered my voice. "I believe the real question is... what will you say when people ask why security guards escorted you out of this building? Do you think I won't make that call? Trust me, I've done it plenty of times. This kind of situation is practically routine. You can familiarize yourself with the drill, or you can leave a message for Mr. Hayes and depart. The choice is yours."

Her cheeks flushed with twin flags of red. "You're an arrogant little bitch."

"'Arrogant' might be a bit harsh."

"I could ruin you in an instant and—"

"I'm not sure why you're here," a calm yet menacing voice interrupted. "And frankly, I don't care. Leave my building immediately, or I'll have security remove you."

I glanced over my shoulder at Bryant, who was approaching my desk with steely eyes fixed on Candace.

"Bryant," she breathed, losing all her bravado. She forced a smile. "I just wanted to say hi—"

"You heard what I said." His tone was smooth but carried a chilling edge.

Candace's face fell. "Why are you upset with me? I only wanted to see you. She wouldn't let me! Did you know she keeps people from seeing you?"

Unbelievable. "It's part of my job sometimes."

Bryant took another step forward. "You don't get to come here and treat my PA like garbage."

"I didn't—"

"You called her a whore," he whispered, but there was enough venom in his voice to make Candace flinch. "Insulting Lysandra is something I won't tolerate."

Candace looked at him with pleading eyes. "Bryant."

"A few phone calls, Candace. It would only take a few calls from me to dismantle your carefully constructed world. Your drug habit would be exposed. Your affair with your father's business partner would be brought to light. And let's not forget that particular kink you like to hide; it would become public knowledge."

Her eyes widened. "No. No, you can't."

"I can. And I will. Unless you apologize to Lysandra and leave my building immediately."

Candace turned to me, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry. Truly."

No, she wasn't. She was only sorry that he had overheard her.

With whatever dignity she could muster, Candace scurried toward the elevator.

Bryant glanced down at me and said, "My office."

I followed him into the expansive space and closed the door. "Does she really have a drug problem?"

"Yes." Bryant settled into his leather chair. "She's been using cocaine since she was fourteen."

"How do you know that? How do you know all these things about her?"

"We have a few mutual acquaintances who like to gossip."

"She seemed so confident that you would want to see her." It made me wonder if they had slept together.

"No, I haven't slept with her."

I almost gaped. "I never said you did."

"But you were thinking it."

He was a goddamn mind reader.

"Despite Hope's strange belief that her friend and I have been intimate, we haven't. Candace has made advances, but I'm not interested in someone clingy and desperate."

"I'm not so sure she's gotten that message yet."

"After what just happened, she won't be coming back." His gaze swept over my face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I've dealt with worse."

"Hope won't be pleased when she hears Candace's version of events. This was a test."

I blinked. "A test?"

"Hope encouraged her friend to come here. Her theory was probably that if I turned Candace away, there was a high chance that we were dating."

I nodded. "I see."

"Not only did I turn her away—something I would have done regardless because I don't like her—I threatened to ruin her merely for insulting you. Hope will interpret that as a sign of protectiveness and assume we're involved."

I crossed my arms and shrugged. "You went a bit overboard."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"You threatened to expose all her secrets to the world."

"And I wasn't joking."

"She called me a nasty name, that's all."

"It doesn't matter. I won't tolerate anyone verbally attacking someone who belongs to me."

I tilted my head. "So, you're willing to destroy someone's reputation just because they offended your girlfriend?"

He leaned back in his chair.“What are your thoughts?” I stared at him, taking in his features for a long moment. “I believe you to be a cunning and merciless individual who would cast anyone who dared to cross you into an abyss of endless misery.”

He nodded, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, there you have it.”

Our second encounter mirrored the first—subtle touches and hushed conversations. Once again, we were subjected to prying eyes and murmurs. And once again, I did my utmost to ignore it all. Bryant's unwavering attention made it seem as if I was the center of his universe.

A couple had the audacity to approach us, greeting Bryant before asking him to introduce me. When he referred to me as his PA, they exchanged knowing smiles, as if it meant something more.

On the bright side, the food was absolutely divine.

News of our date quickly circulated throughout o-Verve, either because someone from our building had witnessed it or knew someone who had. Brianna, ever the gossip, approached my desk, her excitement palpable. "Are you two dating? Please tell me you're dating," she practically begged.

I responded vaguely, "Bryant doesn't date."

According to her sources, my outfit was far from appropriate for a meeting—it was a "fuck-me dress." She went on to describe how my hair cascaded down and how there was an abundance of subtle touches between us.

"It wasn't a fuck-me dress," I sighed.

"Is he a good kisser?" Brianna prodded.

"How would I know?"

She pouted. "Fine. Be that way. But mark my words, I'll be keeping an eye on the two of you."

Later, when I informed Bryant about our conversation, he seemed pleased that news of our supposed "secret relationship" was spreading among the teams. I, however, couldn't help but worry about the sneers and accusations that would surely come my way—people insinuating that I had slept with my boss to secure a promotion. But I had anticipated this, willingly signing up for it, and I would deal with it when the time came.

As the days passed, the office seemed more enthralled by the idea that "Bryant has fallen for one of his own" rather than a socialite, heiress, or model. Of course, there were a few petty individuals among the women, but I expected as much. As long as they kept their mouths shut, I would overlook it. Hopefully, their fear of Bryant would keep them on their best behavior.

When Saturday arrived, we embarked on our third date—a repetition of the previous two: a fancy restaurant, possessive touches, and countless stares.

Come Monday morning at work, everything returned to normal. I had initially worried that our fake dating charade would encroach upon our professional dynamics, but it seemed we both managed to compartmentalize quite well.

I was in the midst of sending out some emails when the office phone rang. Honestly, it rang so frequently throughout the day that there were times when I swore I could still hear it in my sleep.

I picked up the receiver and began my usual greeting, "Good morning, you've reached—"

"Bryant Hayes?" a familiar voice interrupted, sharp and clipped. "That's the man you're seeing? Bryant Hayes?"

My hand clenched into a fist. "I'm working, Gary."

"For a man you're also dating, right?"

"What gave you that idea?" I responded nonchalantly.

"My boss spotted the two of you having dinner on Saturday night. You looked cozy."

"Bryant and I often attend business dinners together."

"Don't try to brush me off, Vee. Damn it, I can't believe you're with Hayes. It doesn't make sense. You would never be so unprofessional as to sleep with your boss."

No, I wouldn't. But I certainly enjoyed indulging in the fantasy. Immensely.

"He doesn't do relationships, Vee. Maybe he'll offer you a fling, but that's it. You deserve better. If he can't see that, then he doesn't deserve you."

"And you do?"

He sighed. "No. I let you down. But don't you think we've both suffered enough for my mistake?"

I furrowed my brow. "You seem to have this deluded notion that I've been pining for you all these years."

"You loved me, Vee. You loved me enough to wear my ring. I believe a part of you still does, even if you won't admit it."

"You're wrong. Even if I weren't happy with someone else, I would never go back to you. Never. Don't call me again." I hung up the phone.

"Problem?" a voice asked from behind me.

My heart rate quickened, but I managed to remain composed. Slowly turning to face Bryant, I crossed my arms. "Just Gary."

Bryant pursed his lips and gestured toward his office. Once we were inside and the door was closed, he spoke again. "What did he want?"

"He called to ask if you were the person I claimed to be seeing," I replied. "His boss saw us together on Saturday, apparently."

"And?"

"I neither confirmed nor denied our relationship, but Gary seems convinced we're dating. He doesn't believe you're serious about me, though. He thinks you're only interested in a fling. He also can't fathom why I would be so unprofessional as to sleep with my boss."

"Hmm." Bryant leaned against his desk. "We have another date this weekend."

"Another restaurant?" I inquired.

"No. This time, you'll be my plus-one at a charity ball. Not as my PA, but as my official date."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, we're going public?"

"Yes. People at the event will undoubtedly ask questions, especially my brothers. We'll inform them that we've been together for a few months. I don't want them thinking we're casually dating. I want them to believe this is serious. So, make sure you bring your acting skills to the gala on Saturday—we have quite the performance to put on."

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