Marrying My Billionaire Boss

by Lee, Nadia

  But even if she doesn’t, it’d be okay, because then I could taste her instead…

  Kissing her will earn you a slap in the face and leave you at the tender mercies of Georgette at the auction.

  Okay, stop. I have a meeting with Elizabeth at her office, and I don’t want to go in there with a mushy brain full of thoughts about Evie’s mouth.

  Miguel pulls the Bentley SUV up in front of the Pryce Family Foundation building. It’s tall and looks impressively expensive, all gleaming marble and glass. You can’t do charity work out of a humble, low-cost office, not if you want the rich to open their wallets. They like to be seen, and they like to feel special as they give money they will never miss to people for whom it will be life-altering.

  The floor the foundation occupies isn’t ostentatious, but welcoming and trust-inspiring in neutral colors. The interior is minimalist, but everything’s high quality and old-money, just like the Pryce family itself.

  Elizabeth’s “assistant,” Tolyan, who looks like he’s chewing on broken glass, grunts at me in greeting. Evie moves a little bit closer. Don’t worry, Evie—I’ll carry you if we ever need to run from that serial killer.

  “She’s waiting for you,” a normal-looking person says to me. Rhonda is her name, if I remember correctly. A nice woman, and loyal to Elizabeth. She turns to Evie. “Would you like some donuts? Tolyan brought some.”

  Probably poisoned or full of blood jelly, but Evie looks so thrilled at the prospect of sugar that I can’t bring myself to warn her. “Just…eat it with a lot of coffee,” I tell her, and walk into Elizabeth’s office.

  She rises from her desk, and I smile with genuine pleasure, since she’s one of my closest friends. A gray-eyed blonde with a model-perfect face, she’s in a blue dress cinched with a thick white belt. One of my exes was of the opinion that white belts make you look fat, but on Elizabeth, it looks fantastic. Probably because she also has a model-perfect body.

  Numerous tabloid writers have tried to link us romantically, but we never had those kinds of feelings for each other, even if we were seen in each other’s company a lot. We do quite a bit of work together, since she manages the charitable foundation for her family. Unlike mine, hers does everything, not just health care. But accessible medicine is still a big deal to her, and she knows leveraging what my family has already built makes more sense than trying to start from scratch on her own.

  “Nate, so good of you to drop by. I know you’re busy.”

  “Not as busy as you. I’m just going to my office, while you’re already here, toiling away.” I grin.

  She leads to me the sitting area with a love seat and two armchairs. “Want anything to drink? Coffee?”

  “No, thanks. Already had mine.”

  I spread out on the love seat, and she takes an armchair, crossing her legs.

  “Is your husband spoiling you the way you deserve?” He better be, or I’m going to kick his ass.

  She smiles. “Terribly.”

  “Good. And before we start, I want you to know Barron appreciates your help.”

  Some women might preen or even have greed flash in their eyes at the mention of Barron’s gratitude. Although my great-uncle is retired, he’s still the head of the family and wields tremendous influence and power. But Elizabeth just smiles. “Tell him not to mention it. I believe in what he’s doing with the hospital.”

  “He appreciates it anyway. And so do I.”

  “You’re helping out too, by auctioning your prime, unmarried self off for the cause.”

  I gesture carelessly, utterly relaxed. It’s the first time acid hasn’t flooded my belly at the mention of the auction. I know who’s going to win me, and it’s not Melons of Troy in a mink bikini. “This prime specimen will undoubtedly fetch a handsome price.”

  She laughs. “We’ll see. Your proposed date is rather… I don’t even know what to call it. Crazy? Over the top?”

  “You don’t think it works?”

  “If you’re trying to develop a reputation for eccentricity. Or depravity.”

  “That bad, huh?” I lean closer, thrilled with her reaction. “Tell me more.”

  She spreads her hands. “What is there to say?”

  “Would you bid on me if you were single?” Say no.

  “You know I don’t bid at my auctions.”

  “But if you were to break your rule…”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Flying to Vegas on your private jet and having a drunken orgy? Not my idea of a good time. No offense.”

  “None taken.” I sigh with happiness. “Think I should put how many people are going to be involved in the orgy?”

  “You’re going to limit your options that way? What have you done to my friend, imposter?”

  I laugh. “You’re right. Why limit myself? I’m going to get a huge-ass suite that can fit at least fifty. That’s probably more than Ryder ever had.”

  Predictably, she scrunches her face at the mention of her actor brother, who set the standard for wild until he settled down. “Ugh. I didn’t need that image this early in the morning.”

  “Sorry, babe.” The apology is so unrepentant that I might as well have not said anything.

  “If you go unsold, I’m going to point and laugh,” she says.

  Oh, I wish. But Georgette is coming. She’s a fucking nutjob, but she’s a very consistent nutjob. If she says she’s going to do something, she always follows through. I know she’s going to be at the auction, and she’s going to bid on me anyway, along with the other determined social climbers of our generation. “Wanna bet?”

  “Bet?”

  “I say I get sold for big money.” I have Evie. I already asked her not to embarrass me, and she’ll bid accordingly.

  Elizabeth wrinkles her nose. “Weak. How about we bet you’re the most expensive bachelor of the night?”

  “Fine.” I can pull that off. “If I command the highest price on the meat block, you owe me a favor. Within reason, of course.”

  “And if you lose?”

  “A hundred thousand bucks to the cause of your choice?”

  She gives me a look. “Deal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Evie

  So I’ve got my boss’s black AmEx…and no idea where to go to rack up the big bucks he’s expecting me to spend.

  It’s Saturday, and the auction is tonight. Yesterday I went to the malls and other shops I normally hit, but couldn’t find anything that would be acceptable at the kind of glitzy affair someone like Elizabeth hosts.

  So it’s eleven a.m., and instead of scrolling down my Facebook feed in bed or watching something mindless on Netflix like a normal, well-adjusted adult, I’m frantically hyperventilating because where am I going find what I need for this evening? I’m pretty sure the denim shorts and loose Disneyland T-shirt I have on won’t cut it.

  But Google isn’t telling me where I need to go. Why are you failing me now?

  Kim laughs at something on TV, then glances at me. “What’s wrong? You’ve been on your computer for hours.”

  I shake my head slowly, resisting an urge to tear my hair out by its roots. “I just…” I bite my lip as Google shows me a local store with hideous “haute couture” dresses. More like a haute mess.

  “Need some help?” She sits up straight. She takes her self-imposed position as my mentor seriously. She said Hilary Pryce helped her when she first got started, and she’s paying it forward.

  Although this isn’t PowerPoint or juggling a calendar, maybe she knows a decent store or two. Doesn’t she sometimes shop for her boss? And from what I’ve heard, her boss’s taste runs from really expensive to super-ultra-expensive. “Yeah, um… I told Nate I’d help him with the auction thing.”

  “Hey, good for you!” She beams. “How come you didn’t tell me earlier?”

  “Because I told him on Thursday, and you were working late again. And yesterday, I was out shopping until I wanted to cry.”

  I don’t think she heard the “wanted to
cry” part. Excitement lights her eyes. “Ooh, ooh, what did you get?”

  “Nothing! And I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Isn’t the auction, like, today?”

  “Yes!”

  She frowns for a moment. “Did he at least give you some money?”

  I flash the black AmEx at her.

  “Now we’re talking. Any limit?”

  “No. He said I could buy whatever I wanted.”

  Her expression says she doesn’t understand the problem. “So…?”

  “Nobody has anything decent! This event is going to be super glitzy. And Nate specifically told me not to embarrass him.” About the bidding amount, but I’m pretty sure he wants me to be presentable as well. Security might block me if I’m dressed less than perfect, like those snooty New York restaurants that turn you away if you aren’t in your Sunday best.

  “You can dress the man like a champion, but you can’t dress yourself?” Kim asks, both eyebrows arched.

  “His closet’s full of prescreened clothes.” Except for a hideously ugly green flower-print shirt and set of pink pants with magenta tiger sharks, but Kim doesn’t need to know about that. “Mine does not. I have stuff that looks okay for work and all, but this?” I gesture in the general direction of the Aylster Hotel, where the auction’s taking place tonight.

  “You should’ve said something earlier.”

  “I tried every mall I could hit yesterday,” I say.

  “The mall? No! Oh my God. You need help, girl.”

  “I know! I just don’t know where to turn.”

  Ask Nate, my subconscious says, but he can’t even pick out his own clothes in the morning. No way am I asking him for fashion advice.

  Kim holds up a finger, takes out her phone and calls a number. “Hello, Josephine? Sorry to bother you on such short notice, but it’s an emergency… I know, I know, but it’s for Nate Sterling… Yeah, Justin’s cutie-pie brother. It’s for that auction today… No, not a tux. It’s not really for him, it’s for his assistant. She needs to be dre—”

  She pulls her phone away from her ear. Even I can hear the screech on the other side. Kim looks at me and holds the finger up again.

  When the high-pitched screaming subsides, Kim puts the phone back to her ear. “Well, of course. Black AmEx. Unlimited. You can spend to your heart’s content… Hold on, let me ask.” She turns to me. “When was your last facial?”

  Last facial? “I’ve, uh… Well, never.”

  Kim inhales like she’s bracing herself to face a horde of pissed-off rhinos. “Never,” she says, then immediately holds the phone away from her ear as another long screech comes from it.

  When it dies down, she says, “Well, yeah, it is a challenge, but… I know you’re used to dealing with people who… Well, but remember your roots, girl. Evie really needs you. How else is she going to outshine everyone else there?”

  I shake my head frantically. I do not want to outshine everyone else. I just want to be presentable enough not to embarrass myself or Nate. The goal is to blend in.

  Kim ignores me. “Yeah… Yeah… Okay. Got it. Thank you. Love you too.” She makes a loud kissing noise and hangs up.

  “Who and what was that?” I ask, still thinking about the “outshine” thing.

  “My friend Josephine Martinez. She’s going to personally dress you for the auction.”

  The name is vaguely familiar. “Isn’t she a personal shopper or something?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t afford her!” Especially when she’s going to try to make me stand out!

  “Of course you can. You have Nate’s plastic!”

  “But he never said I could put Josephine on it too!”

  “What do you think matters more to him? You coming to the auction looking great, or you not putting Josephine on the card?”

  Well, when you look at it that way… But I still don’t feel comfortable. Josephine has to be hideously expensive. Her help will probably cost more than the dress. “Let me just text him to make sure.” I whip out my phone and quickly type, I really need professional help, and Josephine Martinez is available. Do you mind if I put her service fee on the card?

  I hit send and wait. Nothing. Is he still sleeping? Nate never struck me as the late riser, but maybe he sleeps in on weekends. I bite my lower lip. “He’s not saying yes.”

  “Did he say no?” Kim asks.

  Kim Sanford: never lacked for comebacks will be written on her gravestone. “No.”

  “Then it’s a yes. Josephine is mission critical. If you don’t hire her, you’ll never be able to bid on Nate. Evie, trust me. He won’t care. At all.”

  She’s probably right. Nate never cares about money. It’s just me—I’m having a serious problem spending it like…like I have a credit card with no limit. Call it my blue-collar Midwest roots. My mother taught me never to take handouts and never take advantage of anything.

  “Do I have to put on something different?” I wonder if I’m going to have a Pretty Woman moment with snotty shop clerks. Or maybe Josephine’s going to be too embarrassed.

  “You’re fine.”

  Within half an hour, Josephine arrives. She’s gorgeous—glossy, dark hair, perfect makeup that looks airbrushed onto her face and a pantsuit and shoes so stylish they strike me speechless. She and Kim hug each other, then she turns a critical gaze in my direction. I can feel myself whither a little.

  “This is the client?” she asks.

  “Yep. Meet Evie Parker. Evie, Josephine Martinez.”

  Right. I’m a client. I shouldn’t be so nervous. Think—what would Nate do? I shake hands with her. Her nails are long and painted bright red and purple.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  “The pleasure’s all mine. You look pretty. Now could you turn around for me?”

  I turn, feeling self-conscious and slightly stupid. Is she judging me? Probably. Now that I think about it, I have a mustard stain on the butt of my jeans. Some jerk spilled a huge glop of mustard on a yellow chair at a restaurant, and I wasn’t able to get all of it out.

  “I presume you need the works?” Josephine says once I’m facing her again.

  “The works” sounds like a scary verdict. Guess my having shaved this morning didn’t earn me any bonus points.

  “Yes,” Kim says. “She does.”

  “At least you called me early enough. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to help. You also need hair and makeup. Not sure if we can fit in a facial, but your skin’s gorgeous. Exfoliate regularly?”

  “Yes,” I say with a smile, relieved that glamorous Josephine approves of something.

  “Well, it shows. Okay, let’s get going. And Nate’s card?”

  “Yes?”

  She opens her palm.

  I hesitate, unsure if she’s asking me to hand it over. He never said I could just give it away to somebody.

  “Sweetie, I can’t make you shine if I don’t have the money. I promise I won’t lead you astray. After all, it’s my reputation on the line.”

  I inhale deeply. I don’t have much time left. And I have to trust her to make me over before it’s too late. “Okay.” I give her the card.

  Her fingers curl around it, the nails glittering. Somehow the sight doesn’t reassure me at all.

  Chapter Eight

  Evie

  I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be a normal kind of experience, like where you and your friends go to a store, try on prom dresses, giggle and share opinions. Not that I’d know anything about that, since I never got to go. My mom couldn’t afford to buy me a dress—or anything else that a prom entailed—and I told her I couldn’t go because I hurt my ankle and wouldn’t be able to dance anyway. It was a ridiculous lie, but she didn’t probe too much, probably because she knew why I was doing it.

  Josephine doesn’t give me time to change, saying it doesn’t matter what I wear. I shoot a pleading look in Kim’s direction, but she says she has to work because Salazar wants he
r to plan the most perfect getaway for his wife, no expense spared, and he’s already rejected four of Kim’s proposals.

  So it’s just me and Josephine in the Lexus as she takes me to a huge black boxlike structure. I don’t think it’s a warehouse, but it certainly doesn’t look like your regular store either. It’s a good thing Josephine is driving, because I’m pretty sure I would’ve gone right past it.

  “Let’s go,” she says, stepping out of the car.

  I follow, not really having much choice. I tell myself the place doesn’t look like a place you’d dump bodies. Which isn’t that reassuring anyway.

  The door opens, and we step into a brightly colored interior. Lightly veined marble covers the floor, and the pale cream walls have recessed nooks with green plants.

  A tall, slim Asian woman comes out. She’s dressed to the nines, just like Josephine. Maybe there’s a secret tribe of women who spend all day looking perfect.

  Unlike Josephine, the woman has her hair cut diagonally, the slanted edge razor straight. She hugs Josephine and they exchange air kisses.

  “What a surprise. I thought you weren’t coming today.”

  “Wasn’t on my schedule,” Josephine says. “But there’s an emergency.”

  The woman pulls back. “Ah. So this is…?”

  “The emergency,” I say, as though it isn’t totally obvious. “I’m the emergency.”

  Josephine makes the introductions while I mostly stand there feeling grossly underdressed and awkward. The woman, Jun, makes some comments about having “just the thing” for me, and then leads us down a spotless, gleaming marble hall with four potted palm trees to a huge room at the end. Feeling totally out of my depth, I follow with my mouth shut so I don’t end up looking like a complete hick. Aside from personal pride, I don’t want to do anything that will reflect badly on Nate.

  Other clerks who are just as sharply dressed as Jun and Josephine roll out several racks of dresses. One pushes a large sliding door to my right, revealing shelves of shoes, individually spotlighted and gleaming. I don’t have to see the price tags to know they cost a fortune.