Boardroom Bride: A Fake Fiance Secret Pregnancy Romance

by Alexis Angel

  I groan. Why is he so good at everything?

  “Elsa, I’m so sorry about our fight at Fashion Week. You were right; I was wrong. Let me make it up to you.”

  Tanner gets down on one knee.

  I shake my head. “No, no. Not here. What are you doing?”

  He reaches into his back pocket.

  “You keep your hands where I can see them, mister.”

  He pulls out a black velvet box.

  “Elsa Blakely, you are the sexiest woman alive, the queen of the catwalk, a perennial fashion ‘do.’ I would be honored if you would…”

  “Get out!” I scream. “Everybody out!”

  Chapter 12

  Tanner

  Well, I can’t let all these people think my grand gesture was a flop now, can I?

  I turn and smile at the nervous-looking crowd. “She can’t wait to ravish me, right here on the carpet!”

  The drum major smiles knowingly and cues the band. In seconds, the saxophone players are serenading us with a sultry tune.

  The Rockettes lift their skirts just above the knee and shake their hips, nearly blinding us with the flash of their sequins. The crowd is clapping to the beat.

  Even the puppies are howling along.

  Elsa gestures for me to get up, but I stay put.

  Finally, Elsa struts up to the drum major’s neck, grabs his whistle, and blows. “You heard me! Time to go! Move it! GO!”

  Elsa’s employees scramble back to their desks. The musicians, dancers, and photographers crowd the door.

  “Thanks again!” I call out to them. “Sorry you’re going to miss the real show.”

  I stay on one knee, smiling and holding out that box as if I could pop the question at any moment.

  When a few of the dancers stop to high-five me on their way out, I know everything has gone according to plan. As far as everyone else is concerned, our love story is the real deal. But I know it’s going to take more than a dog and pony show to get Elsa to see it that way.

  The puppy handler approaches Elsa cautiously to collect the beagle. “Don’t worry,” she says quietly when she sees the look on Elsa’s face. “This little guy is on his way to his forever home. Mr. Sharpe paid the adoption fees for all these dogs in exchange for a quick visit.”

  Elsa breathes a sigh of relief, and I bask in the glow of my good deed. This stunt of mine may have been a little over the top, but at least the puppies are getting something out of the deal.

  When the performers are out the door and the employees have resumed their work, I rise to my feet and brush the dust off my knees.

  Elsa watches me pocket her unopened gift. “So, what’s in the box?”

  I shrug and let her imagination run wild: Is it her dream engagement ring, or is it a fake I bought just to show off for the cameras? Or is the box empty? Would I really be that cruel?

  Elsa’s curiosity is killing her, I can tell. I’ve gone to great lengths to annoy her today, but this moment is my favorite so far.

  She pouts. “You’re not even going to show it to me?”

  “What’s the point? The photographers are gone.”

  Elsa sighs. “In my office, please.”

  I follow Elsa into her corner office, where Central Park beckons me from those floor-to-ceiling windows. The memory of her body against mine makes me weak in the knees. I’ll never look at a park bench the same way again.

  Before I close the door behind me, I spot a handful of Elsa’s employees tiptoeing toward us from their desks, their cellphones poised. When they see me watching them, they freeze in their tracks.

  “Come on now, you don’t really want to catch us going at it, do you?”

  Snickers follow, and Elsa’s harried assistant—Monique, I think her name is—shepherds her colleagues back to their seats.

  “Wow. Everyone is so interested in our little office meeting. You’d think we were running off to have hot, noisy sex in here.”

  When Elsa doesn’t respond, I turn up the volume. “This is a place of business, Elsa!” I yell out the door. “You can do whatever you want with me when we get home.”

  Elsa fumes. It appears my blushing bride-to-be has turned bright red with rage. “We’re not having sex in my office, and you know it.”

  “But we could be, right?”

  “But we’re not.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Tanner, what are you doing here? What the hell is all this?” She gestures to the carpet outside the door, which is covered in glitter, popped balloons, and what I suspect are little puddles of puppy pee.

  I’ll send a cleaning crew to deal with that later.

  I close the door behind us and take the seat in front of Elsa’s desk. She walks around me and takes her place in her high-back executive chair, the one designed to make anyone sitting across from her look small.

  “The board of directors asked for a circus, didn’t they?” I ask in my most innocent tone. “Well, I’ve come here to give them a circus.”

  “All anyone asked you to do was stir up a little gossip: a romantic date at a high-profile restaurant, a goodnight kiss, a shared taxi that may or may not be taking us back to the same bedroom. But this? This is way too much.”

  “Oh, I think it’s just the right amount.” I get up and walk to the window with the view of the park. “Remember our little rendezvous in the forest?”

  Elsa shifts in her seat, and I know she’s been thinking about it, too.

  “People come from all over the world to go Central Park: to take a carriage ride, rent a rowboat, watch a bride have her photo shoot. It’s a very romantic place.”

  “You and I did none of those things. We groped each other on a park bench while a reporter took pictures.”

  “You make it sound so perfunctory.”

  I move behind her chair and sweep her hair away from her shoulders. She tenses, and I run my fingertips down her neck, settling my palms on her shoulders to rub all that tension away. Her blouse is loose enough that when I look down, I can see just a hint of cleavage and lace.

  “The way I remember it, we were overcome with lust. Passion. Desire. We were so swept up in the moment, we didn’t even notice we were being watched.”

  “But we did notice we were being watched. We came there specifically to be watched.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Her words are noncommittal, but she’s very responsive to my touch. She tilts her head to one side and lets me slide her bra strap off her shoulder to get a better grip. It’s all I can do not to lift her up on the desk and have my way with her.

  “That’s why the reporter believed us—at least enough to write an article about it. But if we want to continue convincing people that we’re for real, we have to make them think we’re falling in love. Lingerie is about more than sex; it’s about romance.”

  “That’s what we tell ourselves, anyway,” she mutters.

  I hate to hear her sounding so jaded. I wish I could tell her that I really am sorry about the fight. That it felt good to plan a romantic surprise for her, even if it did start out as a publicity stunt.

  But I know she won’t believe me. Not right now.

  Not when we have company. In the window next to the door, I can see one of Elsa’s colleagues peering in, still hoping to see something scandalous to report to her cube mates.

  I fuss with the collar of Elsa’s blouse as if I were in the middle of something much more sinful than a neck massage.

  Then I lean in close to Elsa’s ear. “Don’t look now, but one of your colleagues is staring at us through the window.”

  “I know. I can see her, too.”

  “We should do something sexy. You can reach behind me and grab my butt if you want.”

  She laughs. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “Are you sure? There are two of them now.” A second colleague has joined the first one at the window. They lean in and whisper to each other, and I can only imagine
what they’re saying about us.

  “That’s because you’re still here. When you leave me alone, so will they.”

  I return to my seat, lean back, put my hands behind my head, and give Elsa my most dazzling smile—the one that’s gotten me out of parking tickets and into parties where I wasn’t on the list. The one that used to make even hard-nosed Elsa very agreeable.

  “That’s exactly why I can’t leave you alone. Don’t you see? If we don’t keep the romance alive, people will lose interest.”

  Now I’ve got her right where I want her, and she knows it.

  Elsa bares her pearly-white teeth. If she hadn’t been so outraged seconds earlier, I would think she’s smiling. But I know her too well for that.

  I’m like Little Red Riding Hood, wondering why Grandma’s teeth are so big. And she’s the wolf.

  Things are about to get wild in here.

  “All right. I’ll play along,” she says coolly. “Like you said, we should give the people what they want. But we’re going to do things my way.”

  Uhh. Okay. Whatever Elsa has planned, it can’t be good.

  Still, though…

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Chapter 13

  Elsa

  “Fuck!” I yell and push against Tanner’s hard chest, slamming him up against my office door.

  There’s a loud thud that rattles the furniture in the room.

  Fake sex has never sounded so good.

  He looks up at me with a mischievous grin and puts his hands up in surrender.

  “Now, angel, I didn’t know you wanted me this bad.”

  I pound my fists against the door behind him and accidentally slip and hit him in the chest.

  Oops.

  “Oh, yeah baby. So bad,” I say dryly as he grunts from the blow.

  “You like being my bitch, don’t you?” he growls.

  I hit the door harder, and I scream out in pleasure—utilizing some of the acting skills I picked up in my modeling days. My goal is to make my screams and moans loud enough, so our audience on the other side of the door can hear it; but most importantly, I need to make it believable.

  Unfortunately, I’ve had to fake an orgasm once or twice before. But with Tanner, this is definitely a first. Though, if this is what that damn circus outside wants and is waiting for—hell, I’ll give them that.

  Or at least make them think that’s what they’re getting. It’s always fun to play with the press anyhow.

  “Try not to come so early this time,” I yell. “I’m so into you, baby! I wanna get off this time too!”

  A confused expression washes over his face, and then a sudden spark of excitement glimmers in his eyes. It’s like a light bulb went off in his head.

  I laugh at him, seeing as it took him long enough to catch on—so much for that Harvard degree.

  Abruptly, he grabs my shoulders, turns me around, and pins me up against the door.

  My body shakes the metal behind me, and I exaggerate the sound by hitting my elbows against it. Shit, I didn’t see that coming. I liked being in the dominant position.

  I fight against his hold, and his grip tightens.

  “I know you like it when I cum all over your face,” he says. “Is that where you want it, you little slut?”

  Oh, that little shit. I told him never to tell anyone that! I gasp and cover my mouth, not wanting them to hear me.

  “You love the feeling of my cum lubricating your skin, falling into your mouth and eyes, blurring your vision,” he continues.

  I grimace at his description, covering my verbal disgust from the other side.

  “Oh, yeah, baby. Give it to me! But—wait! Did you take your Viagra today?” I smile, smugly.

  He shakes his head, and a touch of humor and annoyance mingles in his eyes.

  “Oh, two can play at this game, angel,” he whispers into the crux of my neck.

  I grin wickedly as I draft up a better plan. I grab one of his nipples through his shirt and pinch it. He yelps in surprise—a very un-Tanner sound.

  “Mmm, yeah Tanner! I love when you scream like a little girl mid-coitus!”

  His face falls into a serious expression, and he immediately reacts by pinning his groin against me and holding my hands to my side.

  I moan, surprising myself.

  That one was real.

  He chuckles deviously and an assured expression and cocky stare meets my gaze. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I have feeling it might not be as fake as I’d intended.

  Forcing him back into our game, I push my whole body against him, and he stumbles back, knocking over my crystal lamp and a few picture frames on the table behind us. They fall to the ground with an intense crash.

  “Oh, Tanner! What’s this? I never knew you liked wearing your own lingerie.” I smile, proud. “A red corset suits you.”

  He rolls his eyes and steadies himself on the arm of a lounge chair.

  “So, the dirty little angel likes it rough, does she? Twelve-inch dildo it is then!” he yells back. “Bend over. I’ll make that ass pucker for the dildo, and I’ll stuff your soaking wet panties in that snarky mouth of yours, exactly how you like it.”

  …Well, fuck.

  Half of the shit Tanner has on me is turning out to be true.

  Instead of falling against him, I reach for his belt, ripping it off him and snapping it in the air. His eyes heat up as he watches me.

  I slap him across the face, and a deep groan spills out his mouth.

  “I’ll have to spank you first, you naughty boy. Don’t want to forget your favorite part.”

  Tanner narrows his eyes at me.

  As much of this as Tanner’s pulling from his recollections of what I actually enjoy…

  I’m delighting in making 100% of it up.

  Before I can react, he lifts me up and takes me to my desk. He pushes everything that’s laying on top of it to the floor, and lays me on it.

  He slams his hands down on the desk, on either side of me, and stares intently, sending a heated sensation though me, igniting my nerves and my desire for him.

  Fuck. Remember, it’s just pretend.

  “Seems we’re misremembering, little minx. I recollect you being the one who likes spanked like a naughty schoolgirl.”

  I side-eye him, not liking his direction. He seems too serious. Plus, having his body on top of me is fucking with my head and my performance.

  I kick him in the balls gently, and he grunts almost too loudly, hurling himself forward. He is clearly exaggerating his pain because I barely touched him. He falls on the ground, but not before tackling me.

  I scream, genuinely loud this time, not expecting to fall against the floor.

  “God, you’re such a baby,” I yell at him. “Take it like a man!”

  He punches the ground a few times, and then covers my mouth with his hand.

  “I’m going to cum. And I promise, I won’t miss one spot on that beautiful face of yours.” He winces from some lingering pain and continues to taunt me, “I know how my angel likes her facials.”

  I try to wiggle myself free, but his strength finally overpowers me.

  But now that he’s holding me down like this with his heated skin on mine, it’s intensifying my ache. My nipples begin to harden as his arms graze them ever-so-lightly.

  He has a leg between mine to keep my legs and hips from moving, but all it does is add to the pressure on my already sensitive clit.

  I refrain from moving my hips against it for a release, ignoring my overwhelming need.

  I bite his hand, and he releases his hold.

  “Ah, fuck!” he shouts. “What the hell, Elsa?”

  “Looks like Viagra didn’t work after all.” I smile and wink at him, feeling some vindication.

  “Or maybe your wicked mouth lost its charm,” he whips back.

  I glare at him, and he sneers at me, knowing that his last insult didn’t sound like a line in our game.

  “Oh, my mouth is
the best damn thing you’ve ever had the chance to meet.”

  I move away from him, but he quickly grabs my waist, pulling me under him again. I squirm, not wanting to feel him so close.

  “It’s too bad it’s become so damn shy around me, then. I’d love to get reacquainted.” He stares down at my lips, his eyes hooded with desire.

  I swallow, unsure how our game has become so real so fast.

  “Well, like the body it’s attached to,” I look down at my breast and wiggle my ass, “it only likes men who are worthy of its time.”

  “Well, that can be easily arranged.”

  “Oh, dear boy, I don’t think you have that ability.” I pat him on his cheek, condescending.

  “Last I heard—I believe it was at Central Park—I’ve shown just how precious your time is to me. And you and that damn mouth of yours should always know that I never waste my time because I finish what I start.”

  He traces a path up my arm with his fingers to my collarbone, then up my neck to my jaw and lips. I shiver at every lingering moment.

  Thumbing my bottom lip, he pulls it down and inserts the tip of his thumb in my mouth. Instinctively, my tongue teases it, licking it delicately. I melt underneath his touch, and I begin to move against him.

  But suddenly, both of us spring up, distracted from a loud crash on the other side of the room.

  We look to see what it is, and to our annoyance, it’s looks like a fallen picture frame, another victim to the aftershocks of our disastrous play.

  I survey the room and take in the devastation and laugh at the sight.

  “Shit, we really did a number here.”

  He looks around and smooths his hair in place. Smiling at me, he stands up and reaches his hand down to help me up. I take it and use it to find balance on my shaky legs.

  “We did good,” he says, laughing and winking at me. “So, should we take our curtain call?”

  I appreciate his ability to turn our performance off and on so easily, as I was aiming to do, but I also find it slightly disconcerting how well and quick he can do it.

  Suppressing my thoughts, we move to the door, and I slowly open it. We both peek out to face our audience.