Executive Engagement: A Boardroom to Bedroom Fake Fiancee Romance

by Alexis Angel

  I’m a creative, after all. I find inspiration after hours when normal people sleep. I like to do things the abnormal way—or at least a little differently. You’d never find me at a nine-to-five job.

  And that’s why I’m walking home to The Bradford, anxious for my bed and a long, hot bath.

  Every night, I take a sea salt bath, and I listen to Reiki music and just try to calm down after a day of being surrounded by swarms of people.

  NYC is no joke. You gotta be tough to live here. You gotta have a kind of armor on at all times that says, Don’t make eye contact with me. Don’t even fucking look at me. It’s the attitude on the streets, and I am nothing if not full of attitude.

  But in my downtime, it’s a different story. When I’m alone, I can relax and act not so tough and just be myself.

  I walk my tired body home but appreciate the bright lights all the same.

  I may rag on it, but NYC is my home, and it always will be. I’m happy here, happier than anywhere else in the world.

  And just as I start to lower my guard because The Bradford is in full view, that’s when it happens…a limousine pulls up, and the window rolls down, and it’s him.

  My heart beats a little faster in my chest. My breathing becomes unstable.

  He says through the window, “Hey, don’t I know you?”

  I look into his deep hazel eyes and nearly melt.

  “Um, no, I don’t think so.”

  “Sure, I do. We’re neighbors. You live in The Bradford, right?”

  “Um, yeah,” I say, trying to pretend with all my might that I haven’t spent countless nights trying to see if he’s home.

  “Well, listen, can you do me a favor?”

  “Maybe,” I say walking to his limousine.

  I know he’s a not a monster. I’ve seen him many times. He looks safe enough.

  “I have this business function to attend, and my date canceled. Think you could come with?”

  He can’t be serious.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am. My name’s Paul, and I live in that building right over there,” he points to the place across from mine. “Come with me?”

  I’m not gonna deny this smoldering man. And I am dressed for any occasion in my black Valentino dress. But first thing’s first.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you. But first I need to go change my shoes. These heels are killing me.”

  “I’ll be waiting right out front.”

  I can feel his eyes watching me as I cross the street and go into my building.

  This is fucking crazy. If I hadn’t spied on him a million times already, I wouldn’t even consider this. But as it is, I kind of do know him—and I’m dying to actually get to know him.

  So I swiftly enter my building and ask the doorman as I go, “Hey, do you know a Paul? Lives across the street?”

  “You mean Paul Armstrong? Sure, moved in a couple months ago. They say he’s richer than anyone, old money.”

  “Hmm, thanks, that helps a lot.”

  Paul Armstrong. What a name. I take the elevator up to my place and hurry in. I run to the closet and put on my most comfortable yet classic come-fuck-me boots. Then I hurry to my vanity, tousle my hair with some spray, smear on some lipstick, and then I’m back out the door.

  I turn around to lock it, and I see Emilia and Evan in a heated moment. When did they become a thing?

  I try not to look, but he’s got her pinned against the wall between his arms, and they’re fighting about something in heated tones.

  Should I say hi?

  Should I see if she’s okay?

  I decide that Emilia’s a big girl and that she can take care of herself. Besides, their argument seems more lust-driven than anything.

  I casually walk past them to the elevator in preparation for my own big moment with Mr. Paul Armstrong. Emilia sees me and delivers a small smile that lets me know she’s okay.

  Then the next thing I know she and Evan are going at it—in a totally non-argumentative way.

  I smile to myself as I press the elevator key and suddenly feel myself experiencing waves of mixed emotions.

  I’m about to go out with Paul—mystery man extraordinaire, sexy neighbor, and man with rippling abs.

  How I got in this position I’ll never know, but I can see that tonight promises to be extraordinary.

  Paul

  She comes out of her building looking fucking hot.

  She changed her shoes, but everything else is the same. I haven’t even got her name yet, and I already know I want to fuck her.

  She runs to the waiting limousine, and I do her the honor of opening the door myself.

  My fake excuse about needing a date worked. I do have a work function to attend, but I didn’t need a date. It’s a dinner, a fundraiser, and totally unnecessary.

  Normally, I’d just write them a check and call it good. But not if she’s gonna be my date. I’d sit through a thousand boring dinners just to be in close proximity to her.

  “Hi,” she says breathlessly.

  “I didn’t even get your name,” I say, inhaling the sweet scent of her rich brown hair as she gets in the limo.

  “Oh, hi, I’m Naomi. And I think you’re right. We are neighbors. I think I’ve seen you before,” she says with a smirk as she gets in.

  Oh, fuck. She’s seen me all right. I knew she had, the little minx.

  My apartment is right across from hers, and I’ve seen those green eyes staring at me from a distance, especially and most conveniently when I’ve got my shirt off.

  I slide into the limo next to her, and she smiles something wicked. I know she’s thinking what I’m thinking. I know she’s wishing I would spread her out right here and claim her and drag her back to my apartment.

  But time will reveal all things.

  “Drink?” I say, proffering some of the best bourbon on the planet.

  “Yes, thank you,” she says swishing the amber liquid around in her glass.

  She takes a sip, eyes locked on mine the entire time.

  Fuck, this girl has the potential to get me in deep. I may never swim out of her endlessly sexy green eyes.

  She’s provocative and seductive and fucking perfect. My time in NYC is looking very worthwhile all of a sudden.

  “So, where are we going?” she asks lightly.

  “A hotel downtown. A boring dinner,” I say, taking in her curves.

  It’s nice to see her up close and personal.

  “Boring, huh? Sounds like a great time,” she quips.

  I look at her intently and say, “I promise we’ll just make an appearance and then we can get out of there.”

  “Okay,” she says simply, staring into my eyes.

  For a second, we’re locked in this moment, sparks flying and an unspoken connection between us. This girl has me on fire already, and I barely even know her. But I’ve watched her for long enough to see that she intrigues me and that I’m dying to get to know her more intimately.

  My driver takes us to the place, and all the while, Naomi chatters nervously away. She tells me about her job as a stylist. She mentions the fact that she was cheated on about a year ago, and all I can think of is what a total fucking idiot that guy was.

  She tells me that she’s lived at The Bradford ever since and that it’s where she licked her wounds, and now she calls it home.

  I can’t seem to stop staring at her. She’s trying to gauge my reaction and to get me to open up, but I’m just not that kind of guy. I hold my cards close to my chest on everything. I’ve found that it doesn’t work to my advantage to have people knowing too much too soon about who I am.

  We get to the hotel, and I help her out of the car. She looks fucking gorgeous.

  We go inside, and the room is spinning with all manner of financial people. A lot of society folk are here, and Naomi seems to fit right in. She, of course, has more style than any of them.

  I lead her easily around the room, making introductions.
r />   “Hi, Simon, this is my date, Naomi.”

  “Naomi Parish,” she says holding her hand out to greet him.

  The girl is friendly and sociable—qualities I admire, because I don’t possess them. She’s like a goddamn social butterfly making the rounds, getting to know people.

  We drink, and we dance, and we make our appearance—then I decide it’s time to go. Time to enact phase two of the plan.

  “You ready to get out of here?” I breathe the words down her neck as we walk away from the dance floor.

  “Ready when you are.”

  I drag her away from the function and back to my waiting limousine. Suddenly, the idea of restraining my cock for one single second more is too overwhelming. Yes, I want to fuck this girl. But more than that, I find myself wanting to be with her.

  I knew she was gorgeous from the times I saw her through the window, but I never imagined she’d be so fucking charming and smart and funny.

  “Geez,” she says, trying to pull back from my grasp. “You in some kind of hurry?”

  “Yes,” I growl so low that only she can hear me. “I’m in a hurry to get you home so I can peel that black dress off your body and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

  Her eyes widen at my bold assumption. I know she wants it, too—otherwise, she wouldn’t be licking her lips and staring at me with a kind of glazed-over expression.

  I’m about to show her exactly what being neighborly means—and it’ll be a night she’ll never forget.

  Naomi

  He drags me away from the fancy hotel and back to the limousine.

  The man’s got some confidence to do a thing like that, but I’m not about to argue. Something about the look on his face and the blaze in his eyes tells me that he’s not a man to argue with.

  I find myself submitting under the pressure of this moment. Besides, I want to be with him in all ways, especially this—especially what I know is coming.

  I trust him, though I don’t know why.

  Maybe it’s the way he handles me so roughly—and yet there’s a tenderness there, too. Maybe it’s because I’ve been secretly obsessed for so long.

  He’s in control, and I’ve never had a man be like that with me before. It’s something I’ve been craving in the dark recesses of my soul, but I haven’t even been able to admit that to myself…until now.

  With him, my deepest desires threaten to come to the surface, and I think I might be game.

  And yet, his touch, his force—as thrilling as it all is, he causes a steady stream of nerves to run through my body.

  “Come on, baby,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist.

  Gravity gives way to his touch, and I feel like I’m falling into an ocean of need, an abyss of temptation and entrancement—and I never wanna come out. I want him to touch me all the time, to talk to me all the time, and to ravage me in any way he sees fit.

  “I want you, Naomi. And tonight you’ll be mine. Understand?”

  Oh, fuck, yes, I understand. I’m dying to quiver underneath his capable hands. I’m dying to feel and to taste that large cock of his that I can see is straining against his pants.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask. And then I joke to lighten the mood, “Your place or mine?”

  “Mine,” he growls, and the gravelly sound of his voice sends shivers down my spine.

  I feel myself getting wetter by the second.

  Paul gets me into the limousine and instructs the driver to go fast.

  The entire ride, my heart is beating hard against my chest, and I wonder if he can tell how fucking nervous I am. His commanding presence makes me feel weak, and I ask him for another bourbon to try to gain some liquid courage.

  He pours me some in a crystal glass, and I take it down in one gulp, thankful that the liquid burns my throat and does something to offset my focus on him.

  He’s my dream guy, and this is my fantasy come true—and yet I can’t help but feel like my world is about to shatter into a million pieces.

  We get to his place, and I feel…not ready.

  I take his hand and allow him to lead me into his building. I look at The Bradford and think how my home is close, and I’ll be okay. I can handle this. He’s just a guy, after all.

  He goes to a private elevator in the building, and once we get inside, his fingers are snaking through my hair, and he’s pulling me in for a kiss. He tastes and smells like bourbon and earthy sandalwood…a masculine scent all his own that I find myself becoming addicted to.

  He tugs the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing my mouth to meet his own. And he kisses me there in the elevator. I feel like all the parts of me that have been fragmented are falling into place.

  I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

  This man is the one.

  Is it crazy to say that? I just know. It’s a feeling.

  He’s the guy I’ve been dreaming about all these years—and it’s finally coming to fruition. A dull ache of desire forms inside of me as I realize what I’m in for.

  “This is me,” he says as the elevator doors open to reveal his extremely nice place.

  I walk in and try to take measure of it, but before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling me towards the double doors that lead to his bedroom.

  The master suite is bigger than my entire apartment. It’s all grays and blacks, luxe and chic and manly.

  He throws me down on the bed and makes good on his promise.

  “Let’s get this dress off you,” he says, and he begins to tear the fabric away.

  “Not my Valentino!” I find myself objecting.

  “Fuck the Valentino,” he says in a measured tone. “You better be focused only on me.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say automatically, and I don’t even know why I say it—except that it seems like the correct way to address his commanding presence.

  “Good girl, Naomi. You already know how to play the game.”

  Game? Wait a minute, is this a game to him?

  Because it’s not to me. I like this guy…a lot. I think I could maybe love him one day.

  I’m suddenly afraid that this is all one-sided. Unrequited love and all that.

  Before I have time to ruminate any further, he’s pulling me towards the edge of the bed, sliding my legs open. I feel utterly exposed, and yet I’m craving him to consume me, to fill me up with his darkness.

  He kisses my inner thighs lightly, and then I feel it: his tongue probing along my heat, forcing my clit out of hiding.

  I breathe deeply and try to keep up with what he’s doing down there, but the spasms begin all too quickly, and soon I find myself in another world.

  “No, Paul, fuck, it’s too soon,” I say, pulling at his hair.

  Like I said, my world just shatters, and it’s so fucking worth it. Game or no game, this moment is mine.

  “Yes, baby. You came so quickly like a nice little fucking slut.”

  His words turn me on more than I care to admit, and I find myself giving in to him in every way.

  I watch him take a step back, and then to my delight, I see him slipping out of his pants and there’s that beautiful, huge fucking cock that I crave.

  He strokes it and looks at me, spread out on the bed.

  “Like what you see, baby?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, licking my lips.

  I watch him, not daring to move a muscle. I can’t believe this man—the guy I’ve been window-stalking for the past couple weeks—is here doing this to me, doing this for me.

  I’ve never been so turned on in my life. A flush of hot desire spreads across my body, and there’s only one way to cool down: him.

  But then instead of entering me, instead of climbing on top and sinking his thick muscle deep into my soaking pussy, he does the unexpected.

  He turns to a panel in the wall and opens a secret door. It’s lit perfectly, and I see all manner of…toys.

  He has a glow in his eyes as he checks my reaction. There are whips and chains,
handcuffs and blindfolds, and things that I’ve never seen before...like clamps and stuff.

  “Shall we get started?”

  My senses are heightened, on high-alert. I’m not sure if this is right or wrong or somewhere in between. The only thing I do know is that there’s this fierce arousal threatening to overtake me if I don’t get him between my legs soon.

  Do you ever think you’ll just explode from the feeling?

  I’ll do anything to be his—even this.

  I had highly underestimated Paul. I figured he was just your average tall, smoking hot hunk…but this? Looking at the closet, I shudder to think what might happen to me under his control, but I invite the feeling willingly.

  I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t know how I’ll feel later, but the thing is: I inexplicably trust him, like I’ve never trusted anyone before.

  Weird, right?

  In this moment, it feels like he’s always existed in my heart somewhere.

  And in this moment, I can choose—to run away and to never see him again, or to give into the passion and desire and to let him do what he wants with my body, mind, and soul.

  I bravely choose the latter.

  I choose to confront this raging fire that burns so bright for him.

  I’ll walk through the flames and become a fucking phoenix, free at last.

  He’s my undoing and my rebirth all at the same time.

  I close my eyes and wait for it to begin.

  Alexis and WineBar #9

  It was the most amazing of times.

  But scary at the same time.

  WineBar had two bars in Miami. He traveled there every other week.

  When he was in town, he fucked me like it was the first time he met me.

  But when he was gone, I tried to find ways to distract myself.

  I went to the spa. I spent time with my parents. I babysat for my aunt.

  But there was a hole in my heart.

  And no amount of FaceTime was able to fill it.

  It got worse the closer we got.

  He missed my friends’ birthdays where we were invited as a couple.