Executive Engagement: A Boardroom to Bedroom Fake Fiancee Romance
Page 1
Executive Engagement
A Boardroom To Bedroom Fake Fiancee Romance
Alexis Angel
Naughty Angel Publishing
Contents
Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
Author’s Note
Table of Contents Instructions
1. William
2. Katrina
3. William
4. Katrina
5. William
6. Katrina
7. William
8. Katrina
9. William
10. Katrina
11. William
12. Katrina
13. Katrina
14. William
15. Katrina
16. Katrina
17. William
18. Katrina
19. William
20. Katrina
21. William
22. Katrina
First Comes Love
Cunning Linguist
Red & Blue
Princely Passions
Offense & Defense
Dirty Darcy
Lust Muscle
Executive Engagement
By Alexis Angel
Copyright 2018 by Naughty Angel Publishing
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
Abby Angel
Men of the House
Woman of the House
Mergers & Acquisitions
Profit & Lace
Boxers & Briefs
Secrets & Silk
Goldicox
Harem
Show & Sell
Alexis Angel
Jailbait
Red & Blue
Wicked Lil Brat
Python
Men of the House
12 inches
Woman of the House
The Virgin Market
DILF
Dirty Daddy
Gambling For The Virgin
Mr. President
Profit & Lace
Stories From The 6 Train
24 Inches
100 Days
Cindersmellya
The Biggest Licker
Lust Muscle
Princely Passions
Offense & Defense
Blessed
Head Hunter
Single TV Dad
Brittney vs. Banker
Cunning Linguist
36 Inches
Dirty Darcy
Kim vs. Stepbrother
Protein Shake
Dark Angel
The Virgin Market
Gambling For The Virgin
Buyer’s Market
Hostile Work Environment
Murder/Love
Three Beasts
Seven Deadly Sinners
Overtime
12 Days
10 Commandments
Overworked
Captive Bride
Dedication
To all the angels who have lost and found love again.
Author’s Note
Have you ever met a man so hot, you just wanted to like…own him?
Angels, let’s be real—sexy-fine men are a hot commodity in the bedroom and out of it! Who doesn’t want a hunky dreamboat at their beck and call, am I right?
This is a book about a hot, sexy billionaire and the CEO who makes him hers. Even though they love and lose…we all know that what the heart wants, it wants. At the end of the day, love always finds a way—and when two people are meant for each other, nothing can stop them (not even themselves).
When we talk about love in the romance world, it’s always full-blown, head first, all-in and happily ever after guaranteed—but it’s not just about the kissing when it comes to the characters we all love.
It’s about learning to let go of all the little things that keep us from believing we deserve love…and it’s about coming together, despite all our flaws and the set-backs that life throws at us—to live life to the fullest, let our guards down and be vulnerable for once, no matter how scary that is.
I totally love this story—and I think you Angels will too. There’s a lot of me in this book…and I hope you’ll see a little of yourself in here, too.
Enjoy, and as always…I hope you get your halo dirty with this one, babes ;)
xoxo
Alexis
Table of Contents Instructions
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Alexis Angel
1
William
This is really fucking stumping me. My head’s reeling as I try to figure it out.
When my golf caddy removes her shirt, I ought to be enjoying her tits, right?
But all I can fucking think about is whether Golden Acres Country Club is hiring their caddies from the strip club down the road, or if she’s been equipped with these massive breast implants as precautionary flotation devices in case I hit my ball into the lake or something.
“Like what you see?” she coos, shimmying in the dim, flickering light.
The whole course is illuminated with tiki torches right now—because when William fucking Ambrose wants to golf at midnight, even the country club scrambles to oblige.
I shrug and give her a golf clap.
I’ve seen better.
Seen worse, too.
“Bend over,” I say, selecting a driving iron and weighing it in my hands. Feels good. Nice, hard and heavy. Perfect for what I’m about to do.
“Face down, ass up.”
“Oooh,” The caddy giggles, obliging me. “What are you gonna do? Spank me with your big, thick iron?”
“No,” I say, repositioning her hips to my liking and polishing my golf ball on my shirt.
“I’m gonna tee off your ass.”
The woman giggles, and I roll my eyes. She sounds like some valley girl from California.
On the bright side, she has a nice fucking ass.
Though I’ve seen better.
Seen worse, too.
“Better squeeze that ass. I don’t want my tee falling before I take my swing.”
“Ooh. Yes, sir!”
Another swig of whiskey—expensive fucking whiskey, and worth every penny—burns the back of my throat. But it’s fucking good. At two grand a bottle, it had better be.
The caddy giggles and looks at me over her shoulder. She gives her ass a little wiggle that, admittedly, makes my cock twitch just a bit under my pants.
It’s a nice fucking ass after all.
I slip the tee down between her cheeks and balance my ball on it. The smirk on my face widens as I step up to her and line up my shot.
Maybe after I nail this shot, I’ll take a moment to nail her, too. A little quickie between holes never hurt anyone.
“Will? Are you fucking serious right now?”
The sound of a mom voice from behind me completely ruins my swing, and my club
hits the cabby right in the ass. I’m more pissed at the ruined swing and less that I just hit the naked bimbo, since she seems to have fucking liked it.
The caddy moans, not in pain, but in delight.
Masochists, right?
But I don’t have time to deal with her saucy little kinks at the moment. I recognize the voice that spoiled my swing—I recognize it all too well.
“I can’t believe how fucking childish you are, Will.”
Sarah’s using the same fucking voice mom used on us when we were caught doing stupid shit as kids.
I fucking loathe that tone.
And she knows it.
Hell, she even looks like mom in her little pencil skirt and heels.
“Do you mind? You’re fucking up my golf game right now.”
“Tough shit, cupcake. You’re thirty-five, and you’re out here shooting golf balls off the ass of some hooker? Your retirement party is still going on inside, you know.”
“Actually, she’s my caddy.”
I bend down and give the caddy a little swat on the ass that makes her coo again.
“You. Stay put.”
“This your plan for the rest of the night, Will?”
I shrug, slinging my golf club over my shoulder, and staring out across the green.
“Mostly, yeah.”
“You should be going home to a wife, Will. A kid or two. Being a fucking adult. Not here with some naked broad, trying to shoot golf balls off her ass.”
“Would have succeeded if you hadn’t come up on me like some creepy fucking ninja.”
“Come on, Will. You’re still acting like you’re some twenty-two year old college student whose only goal in life is to get his dick wet and drink over-priced booze. You should be settling down. Finding a woman to love and have a family with.”
I groan. It’s a spiel I’ve heard from her before. Far too fucking often of late for my own liking.
“Love doesn’t exist, Sarah. The world isn’t some fucking fairy tale Jennifer Aniston movie. Guy doesn’t find girl and fall helpless in love. That’s not how the world works. Love is a joke without a punchline.”
Sarah shakes her head at me. If we were kids, I’d be ripping the heads off all her Barbie dolls tonight just for dragging this shit up.
“You can’t seriously believe that.”
“And why not?” I shrug and take another drink of my whiskey. “Who the fuck are you to lecture me on love? You order men from that creepy-ass dating website like you’re ordering a burger and fries at a drive-thru.”
She shifts in her stance, and I can see I’ve hit a nerve.
“MaleOrder.com is not a drive-through.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “I bet you take super-size portions with extra helpings of special sauce, too.”
Her lips twitch, and I know I got her good.
Will, one and Sarah, zero.
“Besides, what classy woman is going to want me? I’m not the guy you take home to mom and dad. The only women I‘d want to have kids with respect themselves too much to want me. I play better to the slut demographic, and you know it.”
“Hey!” the Caddyshack of strippers protests. I just give her another love tap with my club again. She giggles at the attention.
Sarah rolls her eyes. “But if you got married—”
“Marriage is a contract; one I’d rather not sign.”
Sarah’s lip curls in frustration. “Okay, hot shot. How about we try this a different way? A wager of sorts.”
“A wager? You don’t know the difference between a flush and a full house.”
There’s a smirk on Sarah’s lips that I don’t like. Not one fucking bit.
She goes to my golf bag and grabs a club of her own.
“If I can hit this ball off this woman’s ass and score a hole in one, then, you, my dear brother, will put yourself up on MaleOrder.com for purchase.”
I laugh. Not just a regular hey-that-was-a-good-joke kind of laugh.
No, this is the kind of laugh that comes from the stomach. A laugh that hurts so much I can feel my eyes begin to water. The last time I’d laughed so hard, I was fleeing forty horny sorority sisters with tassels around my dick and whipped cream over my nipples.
“Well, considering there’s no fucking way you can make that shot…Yeah, I’ll take that fucking bet.”
She takes my ball and tee from my hands. She looks confident. A little too confident.
We shake hands to seal the deal.
She doesn’t bother to kick off her heels. She just slips the ball and tee between the caddy’s firm ass cheeks and lines up her shot.
“Don’t fuck it up now,” I warn.
She takes her swing. I hold my breath and watch that white ball soar across the sky toward the green. It hits it and rolls with purpose towards its destination. I pray that it just fucking stops there, but it doesn’t.
No, it slides right up to the edge of the hole with the last of its momentum and sits for a moment. I get ready to celebrate.
Not quite, little sis.
Then, the fucking thing tips right over the ledge and into the hole!
Christ. Mocked by a fucking golf ball.
Will, zero; Sarah, fucking infinity.
“Okay,” I level with her, “when the fuck did you turn into Tiger Woods?”
“You’re not the only golfer in the family, big brother.”
With shots like that, apparently fucking not.
I stand there speechless as Sarah grabs my caddy and my whiskey.
“Be sure to use that picture from the Christmas party last year. You looked really good in that Santa hat,” Sarah suggests, draping her arm around the caddy and taking off.
I toss my club onto the green and pull out my phone.
MaleOrder.com. Fuck’s sake.
Well, this will be an adventure, if nothing else.
2
Katrina
“No way, dude,” Beatrice groans, leaning over my balcony and looking down. “That’s just fucking creepy.”
“Stop being such a worrywart, Bea,” I reply, grabbing her by her bra straps and hauling her back up. “I’m on the twelfth floor. It’s not a big deal.”
“Kat, babe, you are one horny, sex-crazed stalker away from a full security breach,” Bea responds as she shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, showing off the tattoos of lilies and roses on her forearms. “Seriously, I bet a guy could just climb from balcony to balcony and be up here in, like, five minutes flat.”
I roll my eyes. Have you ever met someone who’s been studying something for all of two weeks and is suddenly an overnight expert on the subject? That’s my baby sister.
Bea started training as a security guard two weeks ago, and it’s been nonstop with this shit ever since.
“I just think there are more secure places in Chicago, is all,” Bea argues.
“Too late for that, babe.”
I turn to look at my freshly purchased penthouse with pride. “This place is mine—theoretical balcony climbing creepers and all.”
I can’t help but feel a fierce sense of achievement. This is everything I’ve been working so hard for.
While my friends were out partying and taking selfies on Friday nights, I was working with clients and following up on paperwork.
Sure, it didn’t leave a lot of time for things like dating, but who the fuck even cares about that? The whole time-wasting, hook-up scene is all about seeing and being seen, and I’ve never had time for that.
What I do have time for, right now, is enjoying the fruits of my hard labor—and hanging out with my baby sis, of course. I smile at her as I refill our glasses with some very expensive bubbly. I pluck a strawberry off the gourmet platter and offer it to Bea with a wink.
“Can I tempt you?”
“Consider me tempted!” Bea bites into the strawberry and moans in delight. “Oh my God. Amazing! Where did you get these?”
Bea’s a real foodie, so, of course, she wants to hone in o
n where I’m getting my delicacies these days.
“That deli just down the road. You know, the one that has that hot waiter?”
“The one with the biceps like footballs?”
“That one. And the old guy behind the counter really knows his salami.”
“I’d like to try some salami.” Bea chuckled, sipping the bubbly and munching on a handful of biscuit and cheese.
“Time to break out the hard stuff.” I grin, pulling out a gorgeous bottle of whiskey as we sit down around my glass coffee table. Bea gasps.
“Where did you get that?”
“A gift from my new boss. His favorite, apparently, at like, two grand a bottle.”
“I know, jeez! I’ve been salivating over that stuff since I saw it. I still have that subscription to cocktails.”
Laughing, I crack the seal, pouring two not-so-cautious nips. Bea couldn’t decide if she was a foodie or a bodybuilder. I keep telling her it doesn’t work.
“The important thing, my dear Bea, is to enjoy the spoils. The spoils of war.”
“Not the spoils of love,” she snaps, rolling her eyes as she gulps the whiskey down.
I toss a chocolate-covered strawberry at her, and it bounces off her shoulder and plops onto the mushroom fabric of my designer lounge. I want to gasp, but instead I just burst out laughing.