Mr. Hired Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 4)

by Lindsey Hart

  “Gabriel, I don’t know how to ask this, so at risk of being completely offensive, which I do apologize for, are you really gay? I mean, just gay?”

  I guess this is my time to come clean, even if it’s probably the worst time. Not that there’s a good time to tell someone you didn’t really lie to them but kind of did, or just kind of didn’t correct an assumption and rolled with it.

  I swallow so loudly that the walls are probably shaking again. I really hope Pearl’s parents are asleep. “No.”

  “No, you’re not just gay?”

  “No, I’m not just gay. I’m not gay at all.”

  There’s a brief pause, and then the blankets explode around me as Pearl tries to stand up and make a break for it and literally falls straight on her ass. Or her face. Jesus, I hope it was her ass.

  “Ow ow, owwwwwwwww,” her wail starts up. The sobs that follow make me think it was not her ass that took the brunt of her fall at all.

  Fuck. Why does everything I touch have to go to complete—broken toilet, mellowing, foul, swamp rat style—shit?

  CHAPTER 12

  Pearl

  I see black. Bright lights. All sorts of crazy colors. No, I’m not hallucinating. No, I’m not talking about having the big O to end all O’s. I am talking about falling off the bed in my shock and landing straight on my forehead. Yeah, for the record, it produces some technicolor stuff like you wouldn’t believe.

  I scramble upright and force my eyes open because I can sense, even if I can’t see, a presence hovering over me. God. The lights are on, and they’re blinding. Gabriel must have flipped them on after I fell off the bed. He’s right there, hovering as I thought—a hovery-hoverer. There is no way I’m letting Gabriel lay a finger on me. Not even to help me up. Which he’s obviously trying to do because his hand brushes my arm, and when my ears stop ringing, and I realize I’m chanting an ow-ow-ow litany, I also realize he’s muttering something about being ‘really sorry,’ and ‘please let me help you,’ and ‘I can explain,’ as well as my personal favorite—‘ oh my god there’s a huge lump on your forehead!’

  I brush Gabriel’s hand away and huddle scoot around on the floor until my back touches the bed. I have no idea why Mom and Dad haven’t come running in here yet after that huge thud. They must be dead asleep, absolutely exhausted after today.

  “No! Don’t touch me. You do not get to touch me,” I hiss. No point in waking them up if they’re not already pulled from the land of slumber by my big ass fall straight onto my face.

  “I…I’m sorry,” Gabriel says from above me. My eyes haven’t really cleared off enough to see him. Oh, wait. Now they’re doing it. I see three fuzzy Gabriels slip into view, and all of them look very sorry indeed. And very worried. “Jesus. Your forehead.”

  I raise a shaking hand to my head, and sure enough, there’s a lump there that’s so big, I understand now why people term them goose eggs. Shit. That’s going to look great tomorrow in pictures.

  “I’ll get you some ice,” Gabriel says frantically. “Some frozen peas. Something.”

  “No.” I hiss, shifting my hand from my forehead and giving him a big old stop sign with it. “No, just tell me what you mean. That you aren’t gay. Why did you say you were if you’re not?”

  “I never actually said I was,” Gabriel reminds me gently. His tone is like butter, wrapping around me and soothing my injured pride and head. I don’t like that. I don’t want him soothing anything. “Your friend just assumed I was. He also assumed that Sebastien, the guy I was there with, was a friend. He’s not. Sebastien is my brother, and he’s gay. I was just there with him.”

  “What? Oh my god. I can’t take this. I can’t even begin to process this when my brain is probably swelling inside my skull.”

  “Jesus. What if it is? What if you have a concussion? I should go wake your parents up.”

  “No. No! Don’t you dare wake them up!” With some effort, I manage to get to my feet and perch on the edge of the bed. I slap my hand over my head in hopes that it will stop the throbbing brutalizing my skull and everything inside it, but of course, it doesn’t help at all. “Please don’t wake them up.” I moderate my tone to sound saner. “I’m not concussed. I don’t think. Anyway, it’s the night before my sister’s wedding. Please, please, please. I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone. It’s bad enough I’ve already done all of this. I guess I deserved a good knock on the head for even letting Dean talk me into this.”

  “It was his idea?’

  “Yeah. Only because he knows me so well, and he’s heard me complain about a million times lately. He was just trying to help.”

  “I see. That’s why he jumped to conclusions at the bar instead of taking a breath to find out the truth.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I know.” Gabriel hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I wanted to. I just…I wanted to hear what you had to say, and I didn’t think I’d talk to you for more than a few minutes, but then I changed my mind. I wanted to give this a chance. I wanted to give you a chance. Wait, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck. I seriously didn’t mean it like that. That sounds bad.”

  “About as bad as me asking you to be my fake boyfriend because you’re supposed to be gay, and that’s supposed to be safe?” I whisper, and my voice is full of self-recrimination.

  “I’m sorry,” Gabriel says again. “I just couldn’t find the right time to bring it up. I thought you would have been pissed, and it doesn’t exactly change anything. I’m still not going to do anything. You can trust me not to touch you and to respect you. And I really am sorry. Again. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I can see that it was really inappropriate, and I’m not someone who usually lies. Or does any of this. So, just…I’m sorry.”

  He backs up a step and rests against the wall in this strange, non-threatening way that makes other spots start pounding. Oh, did I forget to mention that all his muscles are bulging and popping when he leans like that? They’re definitely bulging and popping all over the place. That cuts through the pain in my brain just fine. I need to process this. God, I wish my head would stop hurting. Maybe I do have a concussion? Do they say you shouldn’t go to sleep if you have head trauma? But I’m not tired. I’m not dizzy. I’m not nauseous. And I’m not confused. I don’t think. Whatever confusion I do feel is natural because I’ve worked myself into what some spider enthusiasts would probably term a real sticky web.

  “You can’t leave now,” I whisper. “We have to keep it up. Just for tomorrow, and I’ll leave early the next morning. You’re right. This doesn’t change anything. And I do trust you. I’m sure you’re a gentleman.” I don’t mention the whole popping a boner when he kissed me yesterday incident. It wasn’t his fault any more than it’s my fault that my lady cave starts rejoicing whenever it even sees Gabriel, and when my eyes see him. Is that the same thing? God, my head…

  Wait. This does change things. I mean, Gabriel isn’t gay. Does that mean I have to feel guilty about being attracted to him? Does it mean I can be attracted to him? I mean, it doesn’t change the fact that this is fake. So it’s safe. Right? But can I rightfully feel attraction now? Does he feel it back?

  “This is too much to process right now,” I moan. “The best thing we can do is get some frozen peas, since Mom always has those around, and go back to bed. I’ll jam the blanket in between us. It’s hot anyway. I don’t need it. I…yeah. We both should get some sleep. Hopefully, the swelling on this goes down, and if not, I’m a whiz with makeup. I hope. If I can’t tame it, maybe one of my sister’s friends can. It’s going to be fine. All of this. It’s fine, I guess. It kind of has to be.”

  Gabriel stares at me like he doesn’t quite believe me, but he doesn’t move.

  Why in the farge of fargiest farge did I ever suggest we practice kissing? Was that bad of me? The evil parts of me, the devil on my shoulder, my lady cave, surging hormones, undeniable chemistry, and the attraction I couldn’t control—was it all of that talking? W
ere my inner demons coming out? It was a thing. I think people used to think it happened when you sneezed.

  “Okay, yes. It will be fine. Don’t move. I’ll go search for the peas, and I’ll adjust the blanket.” Gabriel winces. “God, I’m really sorry.”

  “Stop saying that.” I flop back onto the pillows, throw an arm up over my eyes, and moan. “It’s okay. I mean, this was all because of me. So don’t apologize. It’s out there now, and I’m sorry I reacted so badly and fell off the bed. I should have actually talked to you before instead of just using you to reach some terrible goal. Karma is kicking my ass now.”

  Gabriel actually smiles at that. I can see it creeping over his face, turning him all handsome and stuff, from underneath the arm I threw over the thundering pain in my head. At least it’s not spreading. The rest of my face doesn’t hurt. I think. I think I can still feel it…

  “What’s so funny?” There isn’t any humor in my voice. I’m exhausted, but to be fair, it’s not Gabriel’s fault. I was already tired before.

  “I thought the same thing last night when I thought I broke the toilet. And when I imagined how it might have to be dealt with. I actually thought I was doing a walk of shame to come to confess my sins to you.”

  A snort bursts out of my throat and nose simultaneously and echoes through the room. “Oh my god,” I giggle. “Freaks. That’s enough karma for both of us. Get the peas and get in bed and let’s just go to sleep. Everything is going to be fine in the morning. I refuse to entertain any other notion. And karma can just mess right off. We are going to rock that wedding tomorrow.”

  “Even the kissing?” Gabriel asks sheepishly.

  “Yeah.” I manage to lift my arm and flash a thumbs up. “Even the kissing. Peas now? Please? They’re in the fridge freezer. We have a deep freeze too, but only the stuff that needs to be banished goes in there, like extra gravy and shit that never sees the light of day. I don’t even know why my parents have that thing.”

  “Emergency dead body storage?”

  I’m not a snorty person, but for the second time in just a few minutes, I snort-laugh. I laugh until my abs hurt as much as my forehead. Gabriel doesn’t wait around for my response. He disappears fast. I can’t wait for my peas. And for the morning. I don’t know if you can will your own destiny into being, but I’m willing hard. As hard as I ever have.

  Please just let everything be fine for my sister’s wedding. And please, please, please, let me not have a lump the size of a bowling ball on my head. And please, please, please, stop me from being attracted to Gabriel, because now the biggest barrier is gone, and this is still fake. It can only be fake. I want to be single too much for this not to be fake. Right? Yes. Yes, I still want to be single. Damn it!

  I continue willing myself hard. So hard that my brain would probably be hurting even without the head trauma. Yeah. Single. Single is where it’s at. That’s what this whole thing was about. Being single, staying single, and ditching guys. Being proud to be by myself and not dealing with the bullshit, drama, heartbreak, and let downs.

  I’m not in denial. I know who I am, and I know how I want my life to be. I know what it takes to make myself happy, so yeah. I tell karma to quit pointing fingers at me. My overworked, overtired, sore as hell brain can’t take it at the moment.

  CHAPTER 13

  Gabriel

  If I ever get married, I’m not going to have my stag the night before the wedding. I’ll give myself at least a few days to recover, if not a week. Getting blitzed off your rocker the night before is just bad for business. Case in point? The groom and half of his wedding party.

  Yeah.

  It’s a perfect day for a wedding. Bright. Sunny. Hot, but not hot enough to make everyone sweat off their makeup and fancy outfits. There was hardly any humidity to ruin carefully styled hair, and the weather cooperated. Pearl’s parents did a rock star job setting up the backyard. I pitched in to help set up chairs, but I can’t take credit for the handmade arch that Fred put together using rough lumber or for the natural green thumb that Marnie has. All those flowers blooming in the backyard are gorgeous. The setup is simple, but it’s what makes it beautiful.

  The bride is stunning. Susan and her bridesmaids went for the understated look. Susan’s dress isn’t too fancy, either. It’s flowy and beautiful, perfect for a beach or backyard wedding. Of course, I think Pearl is the most beautiful woman standing up at the front. Or in the whole backyard. Maybe the whole universe. Her yellow dress, which goes to just below her knee, with the sweetheart neckline and nipped-in waist, as well as the stunning combination of classy makeup and gorgeous, breezy curls that flow around her shoulders, makes her look astounding. Correction, she makes the dress astounding. She could make anything look astounding.

  I get assigned a seat right in the first row beside Marnie and Fred, which would be fine if I wasn’t trying so hard not to stare at Pearl while combatting my dick’s urge to appreciate said staring.

  Anyway, everything was great right up until the guys arrived. The women walked up the aisle of grass between the chairs first. Then, the dudes followed suit. All five of them look like they’ve seen better days. Way better ones. They’re sweating even though it’s not hot enough for sweat. They’re also squirming with bloodshot eyes and are probably combatting some major headaches.

  The groom entered right before Susan was walked down the aisle by her dad, and good lord. The guy looks like he hasn’t slept in a decade. I’d guess Chase is normally a pretty good looking guy, but at the moment, standing up there, he looks like he came out on the wrong end of a fight with a dragon if dragons existed. Maybe he was eaten and pooped out. That would be just about accurate for how terrible he looks. I bet that later, in private, Susan is going to give him a piece of her mind.

  Pearl keeps casting anxious glances at her sister and Chase throughout the ceremony. Somehow, everyone makes it through right up until the vows.

  That’s when shit gets real.

  Or rather, puke.

  Right before he’s due to say his vows, Chase motions frantically to no one in particular before he turns to the side since no one scurries in to save him, and pukes, straight up onto the front lawn. There are collective gasps from the crowd and muttered ‘holy shits’ and ‘oh my gods’ and ‘did that actually just happen,’ before Chase wipes his mouth, gasps for air, and gets himself fully upright again.

  Susan gives him a look of horror, which quickly changes to something stormy and murderous. She stamps her foot as the poor dude doing the ceremony looks on helplessly. People fidget in their seats, and the second groomsman down the line looks like he might follow suit.

  “Well?” Susan asks sharply. “Are you going to say your vows or what? Just because you’re hungover and you barfed doesn’t mean we’re not getting married.”

  Someone titters near the back. A few more nervous laughs follow suit. Then, remarkably, someone young and dumb and full of, well, you know, yells out, “Say them! Vows! Vows! Vows!” The chanting starts up, and a few people echo it.

  “Oh my god,” Fred groans.

  “For farging sakes,” Marnie echoes.

  “What the heck is going on?” This from one of Pearl’s grannies, who is sitting a few seats down from me. Also, a good reason not to pop a boner while looking at Pearl. I have my hands artfully arranged in my lap, for the record.

  “Chase…” It’s Chase’s mom, who is on the other side of the aisle, in the front row.

  “Son, you and I are going to have a serious talk after this,” his dad mutters under his breath, but everyone probably heard it since the guy has a pretty deep, booming voice.

  “Sorry…” Chase addresses the crowd hopelessly. He turns back to Susan. “Yes, sorry. Please…” The last part is directed at the Justice. “Continue.”

  The guy follows directions, getting the vows and rings over as quickly as possible and declaring Chase and Susan man and wife. Chase kisses Susan on the forehead (I’m surprised she allowed even that much), and
she—because she clearly loves him—takes his arm and tucks herself in at his side.

  “Whatever,” she says to the rest of us watching. “We’re married. Yay! Let’s go take pictures and get to the good part where everyone eats and drinks enough that they look like this tomorrow morning.” She grins, displaying remarkably good humor, and walks down the aisle to the back of the backyard where I guess they’re doing their receiving line thing.

  Pearl gives me a troubled look as she passes by. I can tell that she’s pissed about the whole puking incident almost ruining the wedding when she took so many pains to make sure her sister got to be the star of her special day. But that’s not it. She looks angry, but she also looks helpless. It’s an I guess we just go with it no matter how bad it is kind of a look.

  The families get to hug and give handshakes first, and I kind of just tag along, feeling awkward as hell. Not that anyone makes me feel that way, but I’m sandwiched between Pearl’s parents and grandparents. One of her grannies pinches my cheek when she tries to say something to me, and I have to bend down to try to hear her (Pearl did warn me they would both try it).

  Pearl’s other granny elbows her husband, the cutest old man I’ve ever seen with a completely bald head and a huge smile full of dentures, and mutters, “Remember when your bottom used to be that tight?”

  He elbows her back and says, “Remember when you didn’t have to tuck your ta-tas into your pant’s waistband for extra support?” They both giggle wildly.

  I turn around to hide my grin. Obviously, they’re just poking fun at each other using all the old people clichés, but they’re funny. And so clearly in love that it hurts a little bit to look at them.