Bossy Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Nicole Snow

  Lovely. It’s not getting any easier to tear my eyes away from his totally Orion chest.

  “Come on in, the water’s warm.” He lounges against the side of the pool, a glass with a thin layer of amber liquid on the ledge.

  I slip in beside him with flashbacks of middle school swim class. You know how it feels the first time you’re in your swimsuit with boys who notice?

  Yeah.

  This is me.

  Only, I’m an adult, fake engaged to a billionaire hottie, and this is—whatever this is—it’s not how I imagined life in my mid-twenties.

  Shoot me now.

  Ward’s gaze falls from my eyes to my lips, where it lingers for a few seconds before slipping down to the bow flowing from my neckline. He stretches both arms across the gutter, meaning he now has an arm behind me.

  Red alert.

  Something red in the clear water catches my attention, all right.

  Bright red swim trunks with a firm, unmistakable bulge. My eyes linger there too long.

  Is that—did I cause that?

  Frick. I hope he doesn’t notice I’m gawking at his rather impressive—um, assets.

  “You’ll be happy to know this is working,” he says.

  “It is?”

  “Mrs. Winthrope must have put in a good word for us. Ross invited us out on his yacht tomorrow evening. I hope you don’t mind coming out on such short notice.”

  “That’s what you’re paying me for.” I nod. “It’s fine. I’m glad all this acting is paying off,” I lie.

  And it’s not the glad part I’m lying about. It’s the acting.

  When I’m alone with him in his stripped-down wonder, nothing feels like pretend anymore.

  He’s quiet for a minute.

  “Paige, I want this to be your victory, too. Is Brandt Ideas still in your future? You’re going to be a millionaire. I’m not sure why it would be.”

  “I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I’m still trying to get through one day at a time.”

  “Have you thought about what you’ll do with the money? It’s none of my business, of course, but you should consider investing anything left over from the studio. If you need help with that, I have people who get paid very well to beat the market.”

  “Thanks. I haven’t figured that out either, but I do know this will be the first time where I’m fully in charge of my life.”

  He smiles, his dark hair hanging over his eyes, dousing my heart in flames.

  “Hard to believe. Seems like you’ve been in charge for a while.”

  “My parents met at college. It was kind of expected that my sister and I would go to Northwestern, too. So, I just did. I majored in art. They wanted another MBA. There was always this pressure to keep up with the other side of our family...”

  “Oh, yeah. Your pop star cousin and the author, right?”

  “Yep. They hoped I’d somehow wind up with money like Milah and Liv, but without the scandals, much less the dangerous situations they were in,” I tell him. “Dad would’ve helped me set up an art business after I graduated, but I didn’t want to owe my parents anything. I signed up with freelance agencies a semester before I graduated and tried to build clients. Graphic design and websites were still art, but it’s not my thing. Brandt Ideas was closer to my interests, and I loved working with Beatrice. But I don’t get the chance to create for myself as often as I’d like.”

  “You’re stubborn as hell, and that’s a compliment. Grit’s one thing money can’t buy,” he says, his eyes flashing with this mad respect that warms every bit of me. “So you’d go straight for sculpture if you get your own studio, huh?”

  I nod, secretly flattered he remembers.

  “Do you have anything I can see? Examples?”

  “Yeah, my phone’s on the lounge chair. Hang on.”

  We climb out of the pool together. He picks up the oversized towel I left on the chair and wraps it around me, melting those goosebumps with a heat so divine it hurts.

  My thighs pinch together as I grab my phone, open my photo album, and hand it to him.

  “Here,” I say. “Have a look.”

  He winces as he slides his finger across the screen a few times, taking in my early works.

  “What?” I start laughing at how pained he looks and slap his chest. “You’re adorable. You must have found some abominations. It’s funny watching you try to keep a straight face.”

  “Were you trying to butcher Tim Burton?” he jokes.

  “Practice makes perfect, Wardhole. Keep going.” I wait, watching anxiously as he flips on through the gallery.

  His expression softens. “Hmm. This looks like the piece in front of one of the corporate buildings Grandma designed. She modeled it after the Trojan horse.”

  I lean over to see what he’s talking about and grin. The real horse statue has perennial flowering vines falling down from inside, a homage to hidden peace instead of grim-faced warriors exploding out the belly.

  “Oh, yeah, I used hers for inspiration, but I had a hard time mimicking the plants as you can see.” I shrug. “At least it’s recognizable.”

  “Paige, you’re the best fake fiancée a man could ask for, but whatever you decide...you’re talented enough to be the best anything else too.”

  “Am I really—I mean, the best fake fiancée?”

  “Definitely.”

  Oh, man. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s so not joking anymore.

  I stare at his lips. There isn’t much space between us.

  It would be so easy to taste him, to run my hands up and down his body like I wanted to so badly the first night I found him shirtless.

  It sucks when Brina’s right. I should kiss him, and I should love it.

  I’ve never been shy with men.

  But Ward Brandt isn’t any man, and that’s what makes him so wildly intimidating, a walking question mark.

  Why do I feel so anxious, so riled, so afraid every time I imagine where one more unruly kiss could lead?

  18

  Sunset Cruise (Ward)

  Until last night, I never knew I’d signed away my soul.

  But when I burst back in my room that night, there was no stopping the eruption. Swimming trunks down, hand against the wall, teeth grinding with her name burned on my lips, and my fist pumping my cock with my pulse beating in my ears.

  When I came, I could still feel her soft ass brushing my length, the same way she did in the pool.

  Paige Holly’s name charred my lips when I exploded like a grunting madman.

  She knew how bad I wanted her last night.

  She fucking had to.

  She tried to play it off for my sake, but damn that hard-on was damn hard to miss. No, try impossible.

  Mansions, fancy cars, and nine-figure deals...I’d give them all up to be inside her.

  And I know there’s nothing better in store for me tonight.

  She’ll wear another cowl neckline. I had the closet stocked with new formalwear in her size before we came.

  I’ll want to dip my finger in the loop. So will every other man in the room.

  A bad move, maybe.

  If I want her as much as I did last night, it could be hard to focus on Winthrope, the whole reason for this whacked out sham that’s slowly chipping my brain apart.

  It was pure torture not kissing her again last night, especially when she tossed her head back and laughed at my visceral reaction to her early works.

  I’ll have to be on my highest guard. If she shies away from me in front of Winthrope, it could ruin everything.

  Would she shy away from me, though? She leaned into the last blazing kiss.

  A willing participant or one hell of an actress.

  Was she just keeping up appearances? Her ex was there too, of course. Maybe the scorching way she kissed me back was more about him than me, medicine for the heart.

  The phone rings, pulling me away from thoughts of my beautiful fake bombshell and the hundred ways I’d like to own
her.

  “Hello?”

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Nick asks.

  “There’s bad news?”

  What the hell is it now?

  “Erm—right, I’ll start with the good news then. I just left the hospital, and Grandma’s fine. The doctor told me she’ll be discharged soon,” Nick says gently.

  I sigh. “Thank God. When you mentioned bad news, I was afraid she’d taken a turn for the worse.”

  “No, she’s great, and really, the bad news could be worse.”

  How reassuring. “Can you get to the point?”

  “She told me Dad came to visit.”

  What the burning fuck? I guess I didn’t scare him as much as I thought. I’m losing my edge.

  “What does he want?” I snap. “Dammit, Nick, if he threatened her while she was in the hospital—”

  “Let me finish! She said he wasn’t a jackass this time. Surprise. He brought her flowers, said he loved her and he hopes to reconcile. He’s worried something horrible might happen to her, and he doesn’t want it to happen while they’re on bad terms.”

  My chest feels like solid lead.

  “Tell me she didn’t buy that shit? He’s scheming,” I bark into the speaker, wondering why I feel like I need to convince myself it’s true.

  “I don’t know. Do you want her to die on bad terms? Do you want us to?” Nick asks quietly.

  I swipe a hand over my face, hating this shit.

  He’s always been the sensitive one.

  “As long as they die first, I don’t care. And if they don’t go first, then I have to worry about what they’ll do to everyone I leave behind.” To Nick and Grandma. Maybe even Paige. But they won’t screw with her. There’s no reason.

  “Ward, you don’t have to protect me anymore, or anyone. I can hold my own.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s scheming, Nick, it’s all he knows. Stay the hell away from him, and keep Grandma away from him too. She doesn’t need another sting to the heart.” I sigh.

  “I know,” Nick says.

  “Has she given any thought to what we mentioned last time?” I ask.

  “Staying at her place in Maui for a few months? She was open, and the doctor said she’ll be fine to travel after a few more days of rest.”

  “Good, that will give her some space. He’s probably too broke to follow her there.” I hope he is, anyway.

  Nick laughs. “Give the guy a break. He’s our dad.”

  “And a murderer.”

  “And that was proven when?” Nick throws back.

  “It was never disproven, and I always refuse to talk when I’m innocent too. We need to figure out what the bastard wants before he sinks our company or detonates Grandma’s heart.” I need to make another visit to the Express Inn.

  If I have to beat the hell out of him, I will. He’s not dicking with my family.

  They’re both too forgiving to see him for what he is. Irredeemable.

  Luckily, that’s why they have me.

  Nick’s quiet for a minute. “I don’t know...maybe you’re right.”

  Paige walks into the room. Her dress is a pale-blue velvet corset tied with lace. Her full breasts bubble like they were made for my damnation. From the corset, a fitted full-length gauze skirt so airy the blue could almost be white with a single drop of dye flows to the floor.

  It’s not a cowl neck, but I still want to shred it.

  “Do you like this? I found it in the closet and thought, why not? It screams Cinderella.” She spins around in a flutter of gauzy silk.

  I can feel my dick pulsing in my temples.

  “...radiant,” I manage to choke out.

  Nick laughs, reminding me he’s still on the call. “What are you two up to today?”

  “Big meeting on the lake with Winthrope. We should probably go,” I say weakly.

  “Good luck with him, bro, and with your fiancée.”

  Damn. If I weren’t laser focused on keeping my eyes off her tits, I might notice him deliberately skipping the “fake” word. I cut the call and tuck the phone in my pocket.

  Paige sucks her plush bottom lip. “Are you sure I look okay? You didn’t say much.”

  Am I sure?

  I’m sure I’d like to pick her up, skip this stupid meeting for my bed, and rip that thing to pieces. Nothing on this planet would bring me a bigger delight than sinking down inside her, legs locked around me like a vise, schooling her on how sure I am that she’s the hottest woman ever.

  “It’s just my brother. The dress is perfection. Let’s go.”

  I offer her my hand, not sure she’ll take it. There’s no one to put a show on for right now, but she does.

  Fingers entangled, I lead her to the Lincoln. Reese’s jaw hangs open as she holds the door for us. And when my arm goes around her waist, Paige just smiles and drops her head on my chest.

  Too bad it’s all fake.

  A man could get used to having a Siren like Paige Holly around.

  “Now that’s a sunset. Are we in Chicago or Honolulu?” I ask, allowing my gaze to drop to the lower deck.

  That’s a beautiful sight, too, one that puts the unusually vivid sunset to shame. Paige is decked with shimmering blue and gold as the wind tosses her hair and dress around.

  Mrs. Winthrope stands beside her, pushing a pair of binoculars into her hands. Apparently, she’s a massive bird watching geek. I’m grateful Paige is happy to oblige.

  “Indeed, it’s stunning. I’m glad you accepted my invitation to come out today,” Ross Winthrope says. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

  I turn to him and grin. “And miss this? Why?”

  He removes a cigar from his coat pocket and offers me one. I’m surprised he can even see through the neon-red aviators perched on his nose. They complete today’s weirdness perfectly, though, as he stands next to me in a red suit that looks like it was washed in blood.

  My gut says take it.

  It’s a bad idea to turn down gifts from a potential client, even if it’s obvious I’m not a smoker. I gave it up after I left Iraq years ago, and my lungs protest every time now.

  “No, thanks. I quit years ago and well...you know how easy it is to dive back into certain habits.”

  He nods, sticks the cigar in his mouth, and lights it with a flame shooting from a silver brick in his hand. “I do. I also know I’ve been a judgmental beast, Ward. That’s why I thought you wouldn’t come.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

  He stares past me, straight into the sunset. I hope the fiery glow parsed through those hell lenses isn’t baking his brain.

  “I overreacted when Beatrice had her heart incident. I let—shall we say bad news from the past?—color the present. That was hardly fair.”

  I’m silent. I know exactly what bad news he’s talking about when my parents gave the world nothing else.

  “I realize now Brandt Ideas has always been a family business and it appears to be in good hands. I shouldn’t have been so quick to fret over all Brandts not named Beatrice. You’re nothing like your old man, considering you’re engaged to such a lovely creature, and very serious about showing the world your love. I’m sure your brother isn’t terrible either, despite his Epicurean proclivities.”

  Nick’s not like Dad, but he’s not like me either. No point in dwelling on my brother’s embarrassments with bedding starlets and entertaining Brazilian businessmen who like to drink their weight in expensive booze.

  “He’s a good man, even if it’s hard to believe he’s my little brother sometimes. When you grow up with infamous parents, you get used to gossip.”

  “That’s unfair.” Winthrope coughs into his hand.

  “So is life, or else my grandmother wouldn’t have wound up with heart surgery. It’s just made us work harder, Mr. Winthrope. We may be better off than we would be if we’d had a normal family.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it, son.”

  Progress. I’ve g
one from an overprivileged frat boy in his eyes to “son.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase,” he says abruptly, turning those red discs on me. “Do you have a contract on you? I’m ready to move forward.”

  My heart drums against my ribs.

  Damn it.

  I don’t, and I don’t need this guy getting cold feet again. I never imagined he’d come around so fast.

  “Sorry, I don’t.”

  “No problem, just send it over and I’ll get it back to you promptly,” he says, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

  “Thrilled to hear it, sir. You’ll love this hotel when it’s complete. I assure you, we’ll give every detail the respect it deserves. I’d stake the entire family name on—”

  Winthrope cuts me off with this high-pitched laugh. “I like you. You’ve already sealed the deal and you’re still selling me.”

  I snort. Have I, though?

  This feels too easy. Or maybe I’m just used to unexpected black magic derailing good things at the last second.

  We actually did it.

  Ross Winthrope trusts Brandt Ideas with a billion-dollar contract.

  Grandma’s dream just got the jolt of lightning it needs to live.

  So why the hell does it feel like it’s happening too soon? We’re only a few weeks into this fake arrangement. We’ll have to play the contract out to keep up appearances, of course, but what if she’s less vested once she knows the contract is signed?

  Winthrope’s still staring at me. I fidget with my rolled-up sleeves and give back my politest grin, then turn to the horizon with my retinas melting.

  “That sunset. Man. Feels like the whole universe is celebrating this partnership,” I say.

  Winthrope gives me a firm nod and holds his cigar up in a salute, which I mirror with the highball glass holding my mai tai.

  I should be over the frigging moon, but it isn’t the money or the majesty of the hotel on my mind.

  It’s her.

  Why do I care what Paige Holly thinks?

  Why do I feel like I’ve lost my shirt when I just hit the jackpot?

  “Look at that skyline!” Paige says, letting out a low whistle.