by Coco Miller
His graying hair is covered with glitter, and he sidesteps a mannequin to bring me into the back of the store.
“Thank you,” I say after I introduce myself properly. We head up a staircase and he leads me into a fitting room with long mirrors and a stage. Kind of like what you imagine a bride to stand on when she finds her perfect gown. It’s a bit intimidating, and I can feel my heartbeat picking up in speed. I’m not used to all of this attention solely on me.
“We will get you all prettied up. Mr. Vaughn was very specific taste, and I have already pulled some pieces I think you will like.” He pushes me gently into a small room, and on the hangers inside are three elegant ball gowns.
Oh my.
“How did you know my size?” I ask as he shuts the door.
“Mr. Vaughn gave it to me,” he yells against the door.
I set my purse down on the chair, and run my fingers over the lace bodice of the first dress. Blue and purple sequins line the lace, and the dress looks like it could cost more than our apartment. I slip out of my clothes, and try on the first dress and step outside. It fits like a glove, and I wonder how Mr. Vaughn knew my exact size.
Terry claps his hands together. “Oh wow, you look fabulous. Spin,” he instructs.
I feel like a princess as I spin around for him to take a gander. A girl could get used to this. Seriously, a girl could really get used to this.
For the next hour I feel like I’m on a fashion high. Terry ooh’s and ahh’s over every dress, and I feel like Mr. Vaughn may be my fairy godmother. I can’t let this all get to my head though. This is strictly a job. A very good paying job that Natalia and I need right now. Nothing more.
After the clothes have all been tried on and purchased, Terry instructs me to a spa down the street, saying now I need to look the part. He says clothing will only get you so far.
I didn’t think I was bad looking, but Terry ensures me that it is so much more than that. Mr. Vaughn is apparently a huge deal, and to even be taken seriously as his fiancee, I need to look the part. Whatever that means.
Natalia told me before I took the job it would be easy. ‘Pretend to be interested in what they have to say. Hang on their arm and don’t say much.’ I fear now that I may have bitten off more than I can chew. I don’t let it deter me though, because the bottom line is that we need the money. I need this job. People have done far worse for far less.
So, as they wax, pluck, and shave every hair on my body, turning me into the princess I always wished I could be, I remind myself this is all about the money. Mr. Vaughn is my boss, and I will do as he says this weekend.
Pose as his loving fiancee.
Make gobs of money.
Then pay our bills.
Sounds easy enough right?
God, I hope so.
3
Victor
Where is she? I told her to be here by seven, and it’s now half past eight. This was an incredibly bad idea. I hate that I’ve even entertained it. The trouble is when I heard through the grapevine that my shareholders were feeling uneasy about my leadership, and that I needed to settle down and find a wife, I tried to rebel. I told my chief financial officer ‘who cares what they think’. Well, apparently I should care. Unhappy shareholders are bad for business.
That’s when Phil, my CFO, devised this half-baked plan and I agreed. It was also three in the morning, and I think I’d had one too many shots of Bourbon but either way I agreed.
When I first called the escort service, I treated what I was doing very lightly. Like people do this everyday, and that it would be easy to rent a girl for the night. Hire a woman to have on my arm and say she’s my fiancee. It should have been a simple transaction, but after meeting her, I worry that I may have taken on something more than I can handle.
She is beautiful, I’ll give her that, but that headstrong attitude is not something I’m used to dealing with. God, it blows my mind. She rolled her eyes at me, and all I wanted to do was bend her over the desk and slap her little firm ass to teach her a lesson. No one rolls their eyes at me. I don’t care if anyone else is in the room or not. It just isn’t something that is done, ever. I’m the boss. I paid the money. I make the rules.
My doorman rings the bell and I answer. “Miss Newman is here for you, sir.”
“Send her up,” I say into the intercom.
When the elevator doors open to my penthouse suite, my breath catches. It’s only been a few hours, but she is even more beautiful than I remembered.
“Mr. Vaughn. How are you, sir?”
“Umm, call me Victor. If you’ll be playing the role of my fiancee you’ll need to get used to calling me by my first name.”
I move to help her with her bags.
“Oh, I thought for sure when you finally do get a real fiancee you would have her address you as sir. You seem the type.”
Smart ass.
And now my dick is hard.
I’m envisioning yet another image of bending her over my desk.
“Very funny. Come on inside. Tonight we can get to know the basics of each other.” I hold up a hand. “Or at least you can get to know me, so we can mesh well as a couple and be believable.”
She follows me inside, and I set her bags down by the staircase. Her eyes bounce around the massive entryway. “Wow, this place reminds me of Gone with the Wind.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. Never paid much attention.”
“It’s amazing.” She walks around, taking in the marble walls and stone fireplace. “There’s no pictures on the mantle.”
I put my hands into the pockets of my dress slacks. “Yeah, so?”
“Don’t you have a family? Where’s that rich daddy of yours?”
“I told you before that you’ve made some incorrect assumptions about me. My father left when I was a kid. I made my money the old fashioned way,” I say.
“Oh, how’s that?” she asks sexily almost with a drawl on the words.
“Hard work.”
Her eyes widen as she takes a seat on the plush white couch. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she mumbles.
“Don’t always assume, Miss Newman.” I join her on the sofa, and make myself comfortable, unbuttoning the button on my suit coat.
People have been assuming that they know me and about the inner workings of my mind, but they don’t know shit. I keep to myself for the most part. Never letting anyone in. I didn’t come from money, and that is the one thing that intrigues most people. Everyone wants to know how a young man such as myself made it big. My success is baffling to them.
It was easy though, which is what I don’t let anyone know. I’m a computer genius. Learned when I was a kid while mom was playing tricks and daddy dearest was scoring blow. I would never let Isabel or anyone know any of this though. I tell the papers and other media a fabricated lie handcrafted by my publicist. No one ever questions the story, so we’re good to go.
“So, I want to tell you a few things about myself in case anyone asks,” I say to her.
“Ok, go ahead.”
She crosses her legs and I watch the skirt she is wearing fall aside, making her silky legs appear in eye sight. They’re long and muscularly defined. I stare a beat too long at them. I can’t help myself.
“My parents raised me in Texas. They were your typical parents. No brothers, no sisters. I played football in high school and was on student council in college. Everything was average, normal if you will.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Why am I not buying any of this?”
“What do you mean? It's the truth.”
It makes me uncomfortable that she can see right through me. It shouldn’t matter to her how I grew up.
“It isn't my place to question your life story.” Her eyes slam into mine and for a moment it weakens me but just a moment. That’s all I’ll allow. “I'm sorry.”
I ignore those large doe-like eyes of hers. “As I was saying, I went to college and started my own company. The rest you can read o
n Google. You have looked me up, correct?”
“Not yet, but I understand how I’ll be spending my night now.” She giggles and the sound makes me crack a smile.
I continue for the next hour filling her in on things any fiancee should know about her man. Some true and some fabricated. Very little is learned about her, but she reminds me that she's a professional and that ‘she’s got this’. So at this point all I can do is hope that'll be enough.
“Should I show you to your room?” I ask her. “You've had a busy day.”
“Ok.” She rises from the couch, but I just lean back into the leather to grab a better look at her.
Some guys love a nice pair of tits, but I on the other hand am an ass man, and Isabel’s ass is a perfectly shaped heart. So perfect that I want to smack it. It’s at eye level until she turns around, and I'm left face to face with her pussy. It’s so close that I want to reach up and claim it.
“One thing we should practice is touching.” I glance up to meet her green eyes.
“Oh.” She appears nervous.
I slide my hand up the inside of her leg, passing her knee and resting on her thigh. She jumps a little; her body tense from my touch.
“Do I make you nervous?”
Her eyes close, her head falling back slightly. “A little.” Her words come out almost in a moan.
“Good.” I continue my hand further up her leg, slipping under the black silky skirt she’s wearing.
Her skin is softer than I imagined, and my eyes become entranced by her beauty. I can't stop.
I grip her skin, my fingers digging against her flesh. Since she’s not stopping my trek, I move faster up her thigh to touch the lace of her panties. She jumps back and my hand loses contact.
“I think I should get to bed,” she says.
I get off the couch, standing before her I grab her chin. “You shouldn't jump when I touch you. What woman jumps at her fiancee’s touch?”
She looks away uncomfortably.
“Just pretend I'm one of the other guys you've been with in your life,” I say as I release her chin. Then her eyes grow.
“I haven't,” she mumbles.
I cross my arms over my broad chest. She can't be serious. No, a girl like her has been with plenty of men I'm sure. She’s gorgeous and a damn escort for a living. She can not be a...
“Haven't what?” I ask, completely hanging on her every word.
Her gaze falls to the floor and it pisses me off she can't look me in the eyes. I tilt her chin with my finger and our eyes connect.
“Haven't had sex with anyone.”
I step back.
“Are you telling me you're a virgin?” I ask incredulously.
“Yeah, so what?” She shrugs as an attitude begins to take shape.
“How is this possible?”
She's getting upset and the crease in her forehead deepens. It's cute.
“It just is.”
I grab the back of her head, and in one quick rush I slant my lips over hers. She moans and opens her mouth to me. She tastes sweet, and when her succulent lips caress mine, I thrust my tongue deep down her throat. It makes me wonder how well she'd handle my big cock.
My dick jumps and I pull her body flush against mine so she can feel what she does to me. She moans and it vibrates against me, making me want to strip her down and have her moan against my hard on.
A virgin...fuck.
How can Isabel be a virgin and work for the company she does? Do they know? Are they sending this innocent girl out in the world to go spend the evening with random fucking men knowing that she is untouched?
Our tongues tangle as my thoughts confuse me more. Either way, I shouldn't be doing this with her. It's not why I hired her. I pull back, breaking the kiss. She's like putty in my arms, her eyes twinkling with desire.
This is bad business.
4
Isabel
I've never been so enraptured by a man before. His eyes haunt my every breath.
I didn't want to tell him about being a virgin, it’s private, but something about him makes me want to open myself up to him. I need to figure out what it is and tamper that down with a board of nails soon. My sister never mentioned how difficult this could be. How does she separate business from carnal attraction, or is this a unique situation?
Mr. Vaughn breaks the kiss and his quiet stare sets fire to my skin. I'm dumbfounded. I don’t know if he kissed me because he’s attracted to me, or if it’s because he’s trying to somehow train me to be what he wants for this week.
“I’ll show you to your room,” he mumbles moving past me. He sounds almost as if he’s angry with me.
Rushing to keep up with him, I walk up a set of stairs that look as though they should be in a damn fairytale. I’m in awe of his home while he seems to just consider it like any other house on the block. He’s so far out of my league financially and romantically. I seem like a fish out of water.
I need to really study up on who he is on Google, because I have a feeling he is so much more than who I initially thought he was. He isn’t going to be an easy man to please. Unfortunately that is exactly what’s expected of me this week, and I’m not about to mess this up. My sister is depending on me.
Stopping in front of a large wooden door, he pushes it open. “This will be your room for the night. I’ll have my housekeeper, Bailey, pack some things that I bought for you take along to the retreat, and if you need anything else at all my room is down the hall.”
His room. I wonder if it looks anything like this incredibly large pale blue room I’ll be sleeping in. I imagine it’s even grander.
“I’ll be fine. I have research to do,” I say moving further into the room. Not able to look at him after that kiss, I keep my focus on the huge king sized bed that looks miniature in this massive room. The crisp white comforter makes me want to run and jump onto the bed, after kicking my shoes off of course. I can’t wait to get under the covers.
Suddenly Mr. Vaughn’s large, strong hands are on my shoulders turning me to look at him. “Isabel, you can’t avoid looking at me after I kiss you. This will be happening plenty this weekend, and I can’t have you acting as if we’ve just met or worse that you’re terrified of me. I promise that I won’t make you uncomfortable, but my hands will be on you. Are you going to be able to handle that?”
His piercing eyes lock with mine and steals my breath away. It’s as though he’s truly trying worried about my feelings, instead of only being concerned about how this is going to play out for his whoever we’re going to be pretending for. Swallowing a few times, I nod my head. “I’ll be able to handle it, Mr. Vaughn. I’m a professional.”
Maybe if I say it a several hundred times, I’ll start to believe it myself.
“A professional you’re not,” he mumbles with an attitude. “And that is the last time you will refer to me as Mr. Vaughn, understood? It’s Victor.”
Shit.
“Right, I’m sorry.”
He nods in approval of my apology and continues talking. “Like I said, I’m right down the hall if you need anything, and there are pjs in the drawer I had my assistant deliver. Good night, Isabel.”
Walking out, he closes the door behind him and I turn back to the bed. The bedding reminds of the kind you’d seen in an upscale hotel room. Soft, white, and fluffy. My mattress at home is old and lumpy. Any time my sister and I get a few spare dollars, we certainly don’t think about spending it on a new mattress. Who’s got money for that? That seems like an unobtainable luxury.
So I kick my shoes off smiling. I know what I feel like doing and it’s going to be awesome. Running towards the bed, I jump spread eagle, and as I’m midair the door opens.
“The bath...what the hell are you doing?” he asks.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I couldn’t appear anymore childish in this moment and Victor had to see it. I’m blowing this before it’s even started. Keeping my face buried in the thick comforter, I blow out a bre
ath. “Just getting comfortable.”
“This is how you get comfortable?”
He looks seriously confused, and I can feel my face burning with embarrassment.
“Yes.”
The bed dips and my stomach drops to my toes. He’s sitting on the bed with me. This unbelievably sexy, successful man is sitting on the same bed I’m burying my face in.
“You know it would be a lot easier to talk to you if you weren’t mumbling into the comforter.”
Turning my head, I rest my cheek on the bed and force my eyes to his. “Sorry.”
“Stop fucking apologizing all the time. Look, you need to be comfortable with me even if I see you jumping on the bed.” He stands up and holds out his hand. “Come with me.”
Placing my small hand in his, he helps me off the bed, but doesn’t release my hand. I like it. It’s firm and warm and feels comforting. He leads us down the hallway and into another room. A bedroom. His bedroom. My heart slams against my chest as my nerves start to take over.
“This is my room. Tonight you will be sleeping in my bed. With me.”
After I scan the perimeter of his luxurious bedroom, my nervous eyes meet his cool ones. “I’m sorry, did you say with you?”
“Listen, it’s obvious that for some reason I make your nervous but you need to be comfortable with me, Isabel. We don’t have much time for that to happen slowly and naturally, so this plan is going to have to work instead. Plus, we’ll be sharing a bed for the next week anyway, so we might as well start tonight.”
This is way out of my comfort zone. My sister didn’t mention anything about a possible scenario like this. I mean I know we have bills to pay but damn! She told me that all I’d need to do is hang off of his arm, laugh at his jokes, and dress the part, but being in the same bed as him? Uh-uh. That wasn’t part of the deal. I’m not a hooker. Hell, I’m not really even an escort. I’ve never even been in bed with a guy before, never mind someone like Victor Vaughn. I wouldn’t get any sleep all week, I’d be so nervous.
