Bound to her Fake Fiancé Boss: A Fun Sexy Feel Good Billionaire Office Romance

by Hayson Manning

  An invisible punch lands in my gut, solar plexus, and throat.

  Christ.

  It’s the same, exactly the same, except not coated in years of dust.

  “Your grandmother cleans it herself every week. No one else is allowed in here. I have it on good authority from Annika.” Asia looks down at a pad full of messy scribbles with additions and subtractions in the middle of a Monopoly board. The edges curl up, faded money in groups on my side of the board. Even when James was the banker and cheated like shit, he still couldn’t beat me.

  “James owed you two million four hundred thousand and eleven dollars.” She smooths her hand across the pad. “And you said he’d make more money for the company. I think not.”

  I ignore her comment. James would have been a better everything. “Yeah. We’d been playing on and off for ages. I wanted to end the game, but he was determined to win back the money. He only had Marvin Gardens, the Electric Company, plus two railroads, but he wouldn’t give up. No matter how many times I begged to start over, James would tilt his chin and, with fire in his eyes, continue to play. He was stubborn to a fault when he wanted to be.”

  The warm memory soaks into me like summer rain.

  “Sounds like you two were exactly alike,” Asia says softly.

  I smile at the tokens on the board. James was always the flashy race car while I was the reliable Scotty Dog. Mom’s set battered and peeling; it was our treasured heirloom.

  Asia picks up books on my side of the room. “Charlotte’s Web. It’s one of my favorites, along with James and the Giant Peach.”

  I nod, swamped by the memory of James and I reading under covers with a flashlight well after we should have been sleeping. James with Tolkien, me with the awesome Wilbur and anything by Roald Dahl—James and the Giant Peach being on high rotation. James, my brother, not the peach, pretended not to listen when the wind howled and hail bashed against the window. He’d crawl into my bed, where I’d read to him until the shaking stopped and he breathed deeply. We both dreamed of a gigantic peach growing where we’d meet our insect friends.

  “Yeah. He thought the book was written for him. If we could just find those magic orange crystals, my parents would stop fighting, then we’d go back to being a happy family, which, in hindsight, we never were.”

  “No family is perfect,” Asia says, a sad smile pulling her lips. “I bet even the queen of England gets annoyed by her kids and all the corgis.” She looks around. “I take it this is your side with swords, shields, books, and cars in various forms of being dismantled and put back together.”

  I stuff my hands deep into my pockets. “I was always going to ride in and save the day.”

  I was going to ride in and save my mom when the fighting was bad. Our dad never really had an interest in child-rearing. He’d be on a mission to get funding for another scheme which would make us all rich, so we didn’t have to come back to his mother-in-law’s house when the scheme didn’t work, and we couldn’t pay the rent, again. As for the cars? Nothing makes me happier than when I’m tinkering with a car engine, even a toy one.

  She runs a hand over James’s desk and his electronic chessboard where he’d play against a computer for hours because I had no interest. I’d rather be outdoors with Angus than playing a game I didn’t like or particularly understand.

  Fuck.

  I freeze at the object Asia picks up from James’s desk. Blood turns to ice, and I can’t pull a breath, and grip the side of the desk to stop from falling to my knees.

  She drops the object on the desk, her eyes huge in her white face.

  “Jason?” she whispers while I double over, trying to pull air that is thicker than tar into my body.

  I wave her off when she approaches and starts rubbing my back.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay.” I straighten. Air pools in my lungs like thunderclouds.

  I pick up the object remembering I placed it on James’s table after the accident as if it could bring him back.

  “I always meant for him to have it.” I trace over the crude J and J I’d spent ages etching into the plastic. My voice is a raw whisper. I stare at the compass.

  I clear my throat, hating the raw emotion scraping my voice box. “He was always my home.” A thought stabs in my heart. I suck in a breath at the pain that slices through me.

  “Why didn’t I remember this before?” I mutter to myself. “I’d forgotten all about it.” There must be something in my eyes. The initials are blurry.

  “Mom and Dad had another big fight that morning. I don’t know what it was about. Who does at seven when their parents are fighting?” I flip the compass over. “If James and I ever got lost, we’d find each other.”

  And I meant it. I’d never leave him alone in a storm. I’d always find him. The better part of me.

  A soft hand lands on my arm. “That’s beautiful.”

  I crush her to me. Her arms wrap around my body, and I drown in her compassion, empathy, and strength. I hold her a little tighter as emotions wash over me. I don’t know how long we stand wrapped in each other before I detangle our limbs. Really, this has got to stop. Awesome sex, yes. Thinking there’s more going on here than there is? Not on the horizon.

  “Want to carry on the game?” She angles her head toward the board.

  I huff out a laugh.

  “Or we could start a new game. I’ll be the thimble.” Her lovely face screws up. “But I remember reading they retired the token.” Her eyes light up and give the sun a run for its money. I breathe in her joy, and the muscles gripping my vertebrae relax. “I’ll be the cat. Like Blossom, but with teeth, ears, and more than half a tail.”

  She grins up at me, and my heart swells. Fucking swells. Jesus. Next thing I know, I’m going to want to talk about her period and stand in the feminine hygiene department at CVS and buy her tampons, or worse yet, something called a mens cup. I started reading about menstrual cups at the dentist, thinking I could save the world a bit by buying a reusable organic coffee cup. I’d dropped the magazine faster than a rabbi holding a leg of ham when I saw the picture and instructions on cleaning it.

  “You can be the T-Rex. All outside scowls and indifference, but inside with a heart bigger than Atlanta and a sweet, sweet soul.”

  I pull away from her like I have a cattle prod up my ass and stare in horror at her dreamy eyes.

  “We’re not here for sentiment, flowers, and hearts, Asia. We both know the end game here,” I say, harsher than I intended.

  I’ve done two things today I vowed would never happen. Got married and stepped into this room. There’s a lot of shit I’ve dealt with, I think, successfully today, but what I can’t deal with is Asia getting emotional and reading more into this sham marriage than there is.

  She rolls her eyes at me as if she doesn’t believe the words I just spoke.

  This is over before it began.

  We’d better get to where we are going for our honeymoon. The only reason I’m going on a honeymoon was because it was a stipulation of Asia’s. No honeymoon, no marriage.

  I have no interest where we’re going as long as it has a bed, room service, and a never ending supply of silk restraints. I intend to tie my assistant/wife to the bedposts, then I’ll be a happy man.

  “Come on, there’s one more stop.”

  I pocket the compass, grab my books, and head out the door after taking one long sweep of the room. I rub at a spot on my chest that is tight, burning, and filled with lead.

  You’re always in my heart, James. Love you, big brother.

  The wind has picked up, whipping the hair poking out of Asia’s woolen blue hat. She pulls her phone from her pocket, scans it, and pulls on my hand.

  “Come on. I don’t want Cynthia out here more than she needs to be.”

  “Why would my grandmother be out here?” I ask, alarmed.

  “Hurry,” she demands, and walks faster.

  “For the love of Mega Dopplers, where are we going?” My words freeze white in
the frigid air. My hand lands on her shoulder. At least she’s wearing the green woolen coat and not the excuse for a puffer jacket, but it’s freezing out, and I don’t want my grandmother or Asia out here.

  “There.” She points.

  I jerk to a halt.

  Nope. Not happening.

  “No, Asia,” I growl, pulling on her hand, but Asia being Asia pulls me harder. I spy my grandmother sheltering under the massive maple tree. Angus in a golf cart lingers nearby.

  My legs tremble along with my hands. Asia squeezes my hand.

  “I’ve got you,” she whispers.

  Nothing has me except the hounds of hell about to drag me back home with them.

  “Jason.” My grandmother holds out her hands, which I take.

  Christ.

  All the things I swore would never happen are happening today.

  Got married, visited the room I shared with James, now I’m standing where the ashes of the people I loved most in the world are scattered at my mother’s favorite tree.

  I look up, half expecting to see the rope swing hanging from the branches where James and I would swing out over the lake and drop in shrieking and laughing with mom watching us. If mom wasn’t in the house, she’d be here sprawled out on a blanket with a book. Her favorite place in the world where she’d hung out as a child.

  “I’ll just be over there.” Asia inclines her head. “Give you some family time.”

  “For all intents and purposes, you are family,” I say gruffly, and wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side.

  Shit I don’t want to deal with is easier when Asia has my back.

  She attaches herself to me in true limpet fashion. I breathe in her intoxicating scent, and for a moment, I’m not standing where my brother and mom are scattered, but on a tropical island with Asia where it’s warm, and an icy wind isn’t ripping through my soul.

  “Their ashes were combined, so they’d always be together.” Gran’s bottom lip wobbles.

  Jesus.

  I screw my eyes closed at the onslaught of memories that punch me in the gut with a sledgehammer.

  A picnic blanket, sandwiches, and the scent of Coppertone while lying on a blanket with mom and James making shapes out of the clouds. James and me on the rope together, letting go at exactly the same time. We’d plunge into the lake and surface laughing.

  “Why?” I grit out. I feel like I’ve just come out of surgery. Everything hurts and is fuzzy. “How could you possibly think of gifting this house? How can you when they’re here?” I try and swallow but can’t. Asia’s breath on my cheek is the only warmth I feel.

  “They’ll always be in my heart, but this house haunts me as well, Jason. I’ve kept living here thinking one day you’d come home and wouldn’t be haunted by your past, but by the look on your face that isn’t true.” Anguish washes over her face. “We both need to move on and heal.” She looks upward. “I find it hard to talk about them, the pain is too much, but I’ve been wrong. We should have celebrated them, talked about them.”

  Yeah, we probably should have, but that’s a lot of water under the bridge.

  “I’m fine with being here.” I tear my hand through my hair. “I don’t get why you think I’m not.” It’s getting harder to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “We can’t undo the past.”

  “You’re not fine.” Her eyes slide to Asia. “But I think you will be.”

  Asia kisses the side of my jaw, her lips warm and comforting. I want to drown in her.

  Gran nods to Angus, who arrives in a whir. He’s out and helping Gran into the cart.

  I take one last look around. “Where are we going for our honeymoon?” I ask distractedly.

  “Antarctica, where else?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Asia

  “Welcome. We hope you enjoy your honeymoon with us.” A beaming man passes us both a glass of chilled water with orange and lime slices colliding like boats. I down mine in a single gulp. Jason smirks next to me and hands me his. That’s gone too.

  Note to self. Even though champagne is nectar from the gods, it doesn’t mean you should drink an entire bottle by yourself on a private jet.

  I had, embarrassingly, passed out cold, only waking when Jason buckled my seatbelt as we were coming into land. I’d lifted my fuzzy head, wiped a hand across my face praying I didn’t drool, then yelped when the wheels hit the tarmac.

  “Thanks,” I whisper to the attendant while Jason hands over his credit card. While he is signing paperwork, I gaze around the Kona resort. Pink hibiscus flowers spill from terracotta pots. A beautiful gardenia tree covered in white flowers bathes the air in its sweet scent. A large, drunk bumblebee lands on a flowering shrub and flaps its wings lazily before flying off through the urns. Overhead fans move the salty, sultry air that puffs over the back of my neck. I raise my hair off my head in relief. I’m going to be a fuzzy mess the entire time we’re here unless I flatiron the crap out of my hair or use industrial-strength taming products.

  “Come, wife.” Jason tags my hand and leads me to a waiting golf cart.

  “What about our bags?” I look around for my two cases and Jason’s carryon leather bag.

  “Already there.” He’s in the cart, scowling at me. “Hurry up, I don’t pay you by the minute.”

  My body blooms with heat. The smiling attendant’s eyes widen, and a couple who were walking hand in hand now stop and stare.

  “Jason,” I hiss, jumping into the cart. “Did you hear what you just said?” I use my hair as a shield between the attendant and me to hide my flaming face.

  “Shit. Didn’t mean it like that.” He grins, and I grab the dash as we race off. I’m holding on for dear life while Jason tears around corners until we arrive at a villa on the outskirts of the resort. Black lava icicles erupt from the ground, contrasted against the spearmint colored grass. I shield my eyes against the sun hanging in a forever blue sky. Plump waves land on the white beach with a sigh where two turtles are partially burrowed. I pull in a breath at the beauty. I knew it was lovely from the website, but seeing it in person is like landing in your own technicolor dream.

  I toe my Converse sneakers off and head into the villa. Jason appears from the main bedroom with his trademark scowl lining his forehead. I make a mental note to jump online later and see if I can get a device that can permanently remove those indented lines, or book him in for a Botox session.

  “What now?” I ask on a sigh. “What isn’t perfect about this place?”

  “Us not making it in the mile-high club in my own plane has left me with blue balls.” He stalks toward me. “The other is there is only internet for ninety minutes a day.”

  It was a stipulation I made at the time of the booking. Ninety minutes or no booking. They were happy to oblige. We are supposed to be honeymooners, after all—albeit fake honeymooners—but I’m going to show Jason he can have a life outside of work and brooding about everything.

  I take a step toward him. “We are on our honeymoon, Mr. Johnson. I don’t see what we’d need the internet for—”

  “To download the Kama Sutra so we can rewrite it.” He spins me around. Something hard and menacing juts at my back. Jason nuzzles my neck; I arch, giving him access.

  “Pretty sure there’s a couple of times where your battery boyfriend will come in handy in position number seven hundred and four.” He’s kissing my neck, and goosebumps travel my body. My nipples tighten and ache for his tongue.

  I huff out a breath. “That’s a lot of positions in three days.”

  “You bet your sweet ass it is, so we’d better get started.” He lifts my hair and bites the back of my neck like he’s a vampire. If his arm wasn’t banded around my waist, I would pool at the floor. His teeth on my neck whips my blood.

  “As for your blue balls, I think I have something to remedy them.” I reach behind and cup him through his jeans. He groans and hisses.

  “I could fuck you against the door.” His hand is
now down my jeans, cupping my sex. His breath is hot against my skin. His voice is low.

  “Do it,” I whisper. “I want to feel you. All of you. I’m clean and all.”

  “Same,” he rasps.

  I’m so turned on, I’m wet, needy, and flushed everywhere.

  In three steps, I’m against the wall, my jeans are gone, my underwear is yanked to the side. I vaguely hear a zipper. His hands on my butt cheeks, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his hips. He fills me in one thrust. My eyes cross, blood roars through my veins.

  “You’re always so wet, hot, and tight. I can’t get enough of you,” he hisses in my ear like he’s thoroughly pissed off admitting he can’t get enough of me.

  I grip his shoulders, digging my fingers into his fevered skin. I’ll leave marks, and I don’t care. He wants to mark me like I want to mark him. My mouth lands on the side of his neck, and I nip, hard. We are going at it like vampires today. He spasms inside me and grunts when I kiss the bruise that will form. He pulls back, and we lock eyes. Desire, a bit of rage, and wonder swirl in the dark depths. I don’t know what he sees in mine. Want, lust, and something I hope I’m keeping hidden. Whatever it is, he slams into me harder. My head whacks the back of the door, but I don’t feel it. One finger finds my backdoor, and he wiggles in.

  “I’m going to fuck you here,” he whispers. I melt and struggle to hold on to him as I sag. My blood is now lava surging through my body. Our sweaty skin slaps at each other. All I hear is the roar of blood, his labored breath, and his name falls from my mouth when I come apart in his arms. I writhe, shake, and jerk as an orgasm sweeps through my body. Jason grunts and follows me home a few thrusts later.

  He walks us to the bed and lays me down. I frown as our bodies disconnect. He stares down at me, silent, watching, assessing. I hold my breath under his scrutiny, knowing I look like a wreck, exposed to him from the waist down, swollen and engorged. Our scent clogs the air. If I stick out my tongue, I’d taste it. Taste us. He stares at me for a few seconds more, then turns on his heels and disappears into the bathroom.