Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales)

by Diane Alberts

  As soon as the door shut behind her, he went into his private bathroom, locked the door, and undid his pants. Gripping the counter with his left hand, he closed out the world, a small smile slipping into place as he slid his right hand inside his pants, squeezing his erection. She was honest, fresh, sweet, and even better? Naughty as hell underneath those knee length pencil skirts and soft silk blouses.

  He moved his hand faster, grunting as the pleasure made his balls tighten and pull up close to his body. The more frantically his hand moved, the more he pictured Maggie’s face as she came, and how she’d ridden his leg—until, letting out a long groan, he came, hard and fast. It wasn’t enough.

  It wouldn’t be until he had Maggie in his arms again.

  Chapter Four

  The next night, Maggie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a big mistake when she’d agreed to be her boss’s fake fiancée. This whole thing was a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad idea. Ever since she’d agreed to pretend to be Mr. Gale’s fiancée, nothing had gone her way.

  From the moment she’d woken up that morning to her eventful trip to the restaurant to meet Mr. Gale, it had been a day from hell. While she wasn’t exactly the superstitious type who read tea leaves or life lines on her palm, she couldn’t help but think it was an omen of things to come.

  And it might be best to listen.

  Even so. Here she was.

  Being an idiot, yet again, over Benjamin Gale III.

  She’d spent the day getting “made over” by her roommate and best friend, Becca, and the result had been quite stunning…even if she’d been burned by the curling iron three times to achieve it. She wore a light gold dress that looked as if it belonged in a ballroom instead of some fancy restaurant, and her heels were sky high. High enough to hurt her ankles and make her wobble unsteadily every now and then, but the pain was totally worth it. Her hair had been swept into a loose side braid, and she couldn’t help but feel like a princess.

  She pulled out her phone. I’m almost there. Wish me luck.

  You don’t need it. Becca replied quickly.

  Maggie looked out the window. They were almost there. Are you going out?

  Nope. I have a hot date with Netflix and a bottle of wine.

  Wish I did, too. Maggie blew out a breath.

  Becca didn’t reply back.

  The cab she’d hired stopped outside a fancy restaurant that she’d never have set foot in on her own. A plate here cost the equivalent of a month’s worth of groceries for her. Luckily, she wouldn’t be paying. Her freaking rich fiancé would.

  A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat, choking her.

  “Oh, God,” she said out loud. “What were you thinking?”

  She’d lied, and she’d have to deal with the consequences. Next time she wanted to swoop in and help someone out…she’d keep her stupid mouth shut.

  No matter how hot the guy was.

  Or how great a kisser.

  Her stomach tightened when she remembered the way he’d made her combust in his office. She’d never, ever, come so hard, so fast, before. The way he touched her had made her whole body come to life, begging for more. It was all she’d been able to think about. But whatever. She’d be fine.

  It wasn’t as if she needed another taste. Or even wanted one.

  God, even she snorted at that bold lie.

  Yesterday, after his knee brought her to heights she’d never seen, she’d been a quivering mess. Benjamin had stepped back, watching her with cool detachment. That had been the worst part about that mind-numbing kiss. Sure, he’d said all those things about them being a good team, and working together was a pleasure, blah blah blah, but his tone had been cool. Aloof. Uninterested.

  Completely unreadable.

  Just like him.

  After taking a long, deep breath, she paid the cabbie and opened the door. She’d go in there, they would plot their strategy just like they did in a normal business meeting, and she would treat it like any other day in the office. That was the secret. It would be fine. Everything would be fine. As soon as she—

  She stepped out and landed her best pair of heels in a big, dirty puddle of questionable origins. “Oh, come on.”

  The cabbie turned in his seat. “There a problem?”

  “No. It’s nothing.”

  As she climbed from the cab, she smacked her head on the top of the car. This time she didn’t even bother to cry out, because she wasn’t even in the least bit surprised. It was just the way the day had been going. And would continue to go, from all appearances. She shut the cab door, and it pulled away…

  Two seconds after she realized she’d left her purse in the backseat.

  “Wait!” she screamed, raising her arm and chasing after him.

  He stopped, and she managed to retrieve her purse in the nick of time. Hugging it to her chest, she closed her eyes and took a second.

  Because, God, she needed a second.

  “Come on, Maggie. You can do this. You’re not cursed, and it’s not an omen. Go in there, and it’ll be fine. It’s just another job.”

  “You weren’t kidding, were you?” a slightly amused voice asked. “You really do like talking to yourself.”

  She shook her head and wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow her, since that freaking meteorite had been a no-show last night. It would be better than whatever was coming next. “Sir?”

  “Benjamin. You have to call me Benjamin.” He walked up to her, and his woodsy, male scent washed over her. She breathed it in like it had healing properties. “Look at me, Maggie.”

  She did.

  But she immediately wished she hadn’t.

  His blue eyes were locked on her, and his five o’clock shadow begged to be touched. His wavy hair curled to perfection next to sharp cheekbones that belonged on a statue of a Greek god, not a mere man. And his eyes…they were cold. Rock hard. “Everything will be fine. We’re a good team, remember?”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I know.”

  “I’m glad.” Funny, he didn’t look glad. “In this relationship, you’re the boss, not me. It’s only fair, since I’m the boss in the office. What you want, you get. What you don’t want, you don’t get. I want you to be one hundred percent happy. I don’t want you to feel trapped, or taken advantage of. Not with me.”

  She just stared at him.

  He kept saying nice things, but never seemed to actually care.

  And she didn’t think that was an act. Did he feel anything around her? Okay, he felt something, because she’d gotten up close and personal with his impressive erection last night, but how could he just shut it off like that? How did he remain so cold, all the time?

  When she remained silent, he cleared his throat. “You look gorgeous, by the way. Simply stunning.” Her stomach hollowed out, because the coldness in his eyes gave way to a heat that burned through her dress, leaving her bare. Even though he was only looking, it was if he’d touched her. Everywhere. “You’re a true beauty. The kind that no amount of makeup will ever recreate.”

  Her whole body flushed. Yep. Everywhere. “I feel like Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”

  “How fitting.” He cocked his brow. “I guess that makes me the Beast?”

  “If the shoe fits…”

  He skimmed his gaze over her again, almost possessively. Didn’t he know how much that made her tremble? He rested his hand across her lower back, dangerously close to touching her butt, and she pressed her thighs together. “Oh, it fits.”

  Just three little words. Nothing racy or scandalous. Even so, it made her want to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her again. God, he was good.

  “Benjamin.” If he showed the slightest sign of burning desire for her right now, she had no doubt she’d be combusting on Forty-fourth Street. And that wouldn’t work. “Another rule: You should save the intimate touching for when people are watching.”

  “There are tons of people outside,” he deadpan
ned, running his thumb over her lower lip. “Doesn’t that count?”

  Yes. It totally does. Kiss me again. “No.”

  “All right.” He stepped back and let go of her, like she’d asked. “Like I said, you’re the boss. If you want me to keep my hands to myself, I will.”

  She didn’t want him to. She needed him to.

  She had a feeling if he didn’t, she’d forget all about this being pretend. She’d fall for him, and he’d hurt her, just like all the other men in her life had. She’d end up quitting her job anyway, and this pretense would have been for nothing. “I do.”

  “All right.” He inclined his head and offered her his arm, hardly looking brokenhearted over her rejection. “Ready to go inside? Or do you need to continue your little pep talk to yourself first?”

  “I’m good, thank you,” she managed to say with her head held high. Her cheeks, though, were on fire. “I’d just finished when you came up to me.”

  She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and he hugged it close to his hard side. Just that slight contact made her legs shake. The man was made of pure, lean muscle. When did he have time to work out? He spent all day and most of the nights in his office. “I find it charming, you know. The way you talk to yourself.”

  Oh, she doubted that. Especially since he’d said those words without a hint of a smile. But she’d humor him anyway. “Thanks.”

  They walked inside Macaluso’s, and as soon as he set foot on the threshold, it was as if the restaurant knew it. Waiters bowed and scooted out of the way, greeting him by name, and he led them to a small, private room in the back left corner of the dining room without any help. It was ensconced within dark red curtains, and there were at least ten candles flickering on random tables…

  That were all empty of place settings except one.

  He led her to that table, pulled her chair out for her, and waited. “Maggie?”

  “Uh—” She blinked. “Is this whole room for us?”

  “Yes.” His brow wrinkled, and he looked confused, as if he didn’t realize that most men didn’t do that. How…How…ridiculous. “I don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to have spies following us, to see if we’re the real thing or not.”

  “Oh. Right.” That, at least, sort of made sense. She sat down, and he pushed her chair in close. “Thanks. After the day I’ve had, I can’t wait to get an appletini. Or five.”

  Anything to make her forget all about this.

  And that sexy kiss last night.

  He sat across from her and picked up a dark, expensive looking bottle of wine she’d somehow missed sitting in an ice bath. “No need to wait for a drink. I pre-ordered our wine to go with our meal. This is their best bottle of white.”

  I hate white. She smiled anyway because booze was booze, and at this point, she’d take it. She’d drink muddy water if it dulled the panic rising inside her with each word he said. Now that they were out, alone, the enormity of what she’d agreed to hit her. This was her boss, and she was on a date with him because she was pretending to be his lover. How had this happened? “Uh…thanks. Sure.”

  “Oh.” He brandished a bouquet of red roses from under the table like some sort of hot, designer-suit-wearing magician. “Also, some flowers for you.”

  He said that with no emotion whatsoever, as if he could do this in his sleep. She had the impression he was, right now. “Thanks.” She lifted the tablecloth and glanced underneath. “What else do you have under there? A waiter? A string quartet with a violin?”

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Heaven forbid he show some small sign of amusement. “No, they’ll come in later.”

  “Seriously?”

  A slight tip of his head. “No.”

  “Thank God,” she breathed.

  This whole “date” thing was so cliché. And more than likely? It worked every freaking time. This was obviously his play when he took women out, and he had all the right moves to make a normal girl swoon and fall into his arms. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t a normal girl, and she knew a well-honed player move when she saw one.

  It wouldn’t work on her.

  She’d learned her lesson the hard way. Not that it mattered, of course. He didn’t have to woo her. She was already his fiancée.

  Laughing lightly at that, she took the flowers and set them on the empty table next to them without smelling them. She was well aware what roses smelled like, and they made her sneeze. She preferred snowbells. “Pretty flowers. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She smiled, not saying anything else.

  His forehead scrunched, and he scratched his head.

  He seemed confused, and she almost felt sorry for him. He obviously couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t swooning at his feet. But the risk outweighed the reward, and she couldn’t afford to be an idiot over her boss’s dreamy eyes. Her job was too important. Her parents counted on her to help them, and her rent had to be paid, and poor Lucifer needed that vet appointment.

  So he could turn those sexy eyes elsewhere.

  He poured a full glass of wine, and held it out to her. Their fingers brushed on the hand off, and the skin on skin contact sent her pulse soaring and her mind racing back to that kiss for the millionth time. Seemingly unaware of her reaction to him, he settled in to pour his own glass. Before he’d even finished, she’d taken a big gulp. It tasted awful.

  It might be their best bottle of white, but it still tasted like butt.

  She must have made a face, because he sighed and set the bottle down. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with slight annoyance.

  “Nothing.” She folded her hands in her lap and smiled, trying to ignore all the unsettled feelings swirling in the pit of her stomach. “Why do you ask?”

  “You’re acting strange.”

  Did that mean she wasn’t acting like the million other women he’d practiced his way too smooth moves on? “Lucky for you, this date is all for show, and you don’t need to worry about what I’m thinking.”

  He downed some of his wine and tugged on his tie. The waiter came in carrying salads—wait, they hadn’t even ordered anything—and set them in front of them. She took the opportunity to check him out since he was talking to the waiter.

  He, of course, was as devilishly hot as always.

  Benjamin—not the waiter.

  He wore a black suit, a light blue shirt, and a gray-and-blue striped tie. He seemed to like stripes—probably because they were even and never out of place. His jacket hugged his body perfectly, since it had clearly been custom made for him. Guys like him didn’t buy off the rack. That would never change. He came across as every inch the gentleman accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle…

  While she felt like a little kid playing dress up, hoping her mother wouldn’t come in and catch her wearing her favorite pearls before she could put them back where they belonged. And that was something that would never change, either.

  Their two worlds just didn’t make sense when put together.

  The waiter bowed and left without even speaking to Maggie, or leaving a menu behind for them to read. She glanced down at her salad. It had blue cheese dressing on it.

  Moldy cheese. Yum.

  She pushed it away and set her hands back in her lap, linking her fingers together. “When will they bring the menus?”

  “I already ordered us both their finest,” he answered dismissively, looking devishly handsome as he picked up his fork. How the man managed to make a freaking fork look sexy? She had no idea. But he did. “They’ll bring the courses in when we’re ready for them.”

  Oh. My. God. He really had this whole thing down pat.

  “Excellent,” she said drily. “Can’t wait to see what I’m eating tonight.”

  He set his fork down and sighed again. “You’re displeased.”

  “No. It’s just that this isn’t going exactly how I expected it would.” She smiled and downed the l
ast of her wine. “More wine, please?”

  He poured her more and lifted a finger. A waiter brought another bottle within seconds. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the man for an appletini instead, but he left as quickly as he came, yet again without even glancing at her. She rolled her eyes at the slight, picked up her wine, and drank some more. It would go straight to her head on her empty stomach, but she was past the point of caring.

  At this point, she’d do anything to get through this evening without telling her boss that he sucked at first dates. Because he did. Horribly.

  Too bad he didn’t suck at kissing, too.

  It would make resisting him so much easier.

  Her stomach growled angrily, so she picked up a piece of bread and took a bite. That, at least, was delicious. “Mm. Good bread,” she said, holding it up to Mr. Gale—Benjamin. “You should try some. Don’t worry, I won’t throw it at you this time.”

  He ate a bite of salad and watched her. Once he swallowed, he patted at his mouth with the linen napkin. “What’s going on?”

  Besides the fact that this was the most awkward date she’d ever been on? “Nothing.” She picked up her glass of wine and took another sip, fighting back the cringe that tried to creep out. “I already told you that.”

  He leaned back, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and let his hands cross in front of him. They fell silent. He sat there looking sexy, and she pushed her salad around on the plate. Sighing, he picked up that darn fork again and ate a few bites. After a while, though, he must’ve realized she hadn’t actually eaten any of hers.

  Frowning, he studied her with an intensity that sent goose bumps crawling over her skin. “You might think you’re good at pretending you’re all right, but I can read you like an open book, so I see you’re not happy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Why do you care?” she asked softly. “What’s it matter to you?”

  “I didn’t exactly say I did care,” he replied, cocking his head. “I just said I could see it. But regardless of what you seem to think, I want you to enjoy yourself. I’m not that cruel.”