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

by Hayson Manning

  My hand is over my shaky heart; tears rattle my sinuses.

  With an act of kindness, he has the potential to slay me, dice me into tiny pieces, and throw me to the wolves, if I let him, but I’m a big girl who he’s burned before.

  It won’t be happening again.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jason

  “Did you know about this?” Gabriel waves a piece of paper in front of my face. “I didn’t know about this. Fuck. I would have been all over it. A date with Asia. Jesus.” He’s pulling his hands through his hair and pacing.

  I read the flyer, and my stomach bottoms out.

  Asia, my assistant/wife, is auctioning herself off to save her pussies. I reread the flyer, quelling the violence in my fingertips.

  We are going to save Asia’s pussies! The headline reads.

  Please email the address below. Everyone will be vetted so crazies need not reply. Everyone in the area knows our gorgeous Asia Brown, and who wouldn’t want to go on a date with her and help the pussies in the area Asia feeds and shelters? One, in particular, is facing enormous medical costs.

  I scroll down to find a picture of Blossom looking regal with her mangy coat, missing ears, and a stump of a tail.

  Ah, baby girl.

  Finally, something I can fix.

  Any excess funds will go to feed our community, the momma cat about to give birth, kids who need medication, and folk who are struggling with medical bills, groceries, and helping our neighbors.

  If you could email me back with your bids in the next three days, the winner will be announced at the end of the week.

  Darlene

  There’s an email address, but I crush the paper into a ball.

  I’m going to have to bid for a date with my wife.

  Gabriel is still pacing in front of me. I stare at him with an eerie calm. “Don’t go fucking near Asia.”

  He laughs in my face. “I know there’s more going on with you two. You’re like mules pulling on a rope with a bucket of golden carrots in the middle. Neither of you will give way.” He scans my face, and his voice drops. “An idiot would be a fool to let Asia get away. But this?” He stabs at the flyer. “There are going to be crazy fuckers coming out of the woodwork.” He pales. “Does she have any idea she may never be seen again?”

  “It’s not going to happen.” I shrug into my jacket, and I’m heading out the door, his chuckle following me. Asia’s not at her desk. I follow her laughter to the break room, where I find a blond surfer type hanging off her every word. Our eyes clash before she pulls hers away and resumes the conversation.

  “I’m not paying you to stand around and talk about what your favorite nail polish color is. This isn’t Sally fucking Hansen.”

  Surfer guy smirks then slinks off. My assistant/wife glares at me.

  I now have a face for the punching bag.

  After battling LA traffic for an hour, I bang on a peeling painted door.

  “I wondered if you’d show.” Asia’s neighbor opens her door. She leans in and sniffs me.

  I frown. “Can I help you with something?”

  Her eyebrows pull together. “Asia handed me a bottle of shower gel she took from your place and wondered if we stocked it at the Rack, but since it’s in a plain bottle, I couldn’t identify it. It has to be on warm skin for the notes to come through.” She cocks a dark brow. “I can sell hand sanitizer as Chanel, and I know my scents. This one I do not.”

  The little sneak. I wondered where the bottle of gel went. Luckily, I have them shipped by the dozen.

  “I have it made for me. Shipped in from the UK.”

  She folds her arms across her chest and tsks. “Rich people and all their first world problems.”

  She’s a tiny woman, like Asia, with long dark hair, sparkling green eyes with a hint of attitude, and a lot of sass. I like her immediately.

  I hold out the flyer. “Can we please discuss this?”

  She opens the door wider. “By all means.”

  Ten minutes later, I’m back in the car, a dent in my wallet, and a smile I can’t keep off my face.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Asia

  “You’ve vetted him, right?” I swallow over the ball of nerves trapped in my throat.

  “For the fifteen millionth time, we have. Thoroughly.” Brutus lounges against the wall of Darlene’s bedroom going through his phone.

  We’ve been here for what feels like a light year as she does my makeup and hair for the date of doom.

  “What if he’s used an alias and is on the dark web buying acid to dispose of bones and my nipples will be in a jar by his bed? And I really don’t want my skin fashioned into a handbag.”

  Brutus looks up. “As well as being an excellent Costco employee, I’m an outstanding hacker.”

  He is. Word is he could get dirt on the Pope.

  “But—”

  He holds up a hand. “No buts. It’s all good, Asia.” He pushes off the wall and plops a kiss on my temple. “You’re going to have a grand night, help our neighbors, purchase medication for Marcus, and raise money for your pussies.” I eye-roll when he and Darlene giggle like tweenies. I’ve given up trying to change the name; every time its mentioned, they break into howls of laughter. “You’re doing a good thing.”

  I give him the stink eye, which makes Darlene swear I’m messing up my makeup. Brutus walks into her living room.

  “Are you sure about the dress?” A strapless underskirt of dark red satin lands mid-thigh. Over the satin is a delicate blush lace with beads of every color woven like cats’ tails. The glass beads shimmer in the light. Luckily, I’m a fast sewer and managed to finish when dawn struck. Darlene’s jaw dropped when she saw it and insisted I make one for her in green.

  “Yes, I’m sure about the dress. Keep still.”

  She is applying red to my lips and won’t let me look in the mirror until she’s finished.

  I smooth my hands down the dress, which hugs every curve. Since I have barely eaten for the last few days, it fits beautifully. I refuse to eat the daily feasts Jason brings into the office and tries to insist I eat. Today I told him to box it up, and I’ll bring it to movie night this weekend with all the shared breath and sticky fingers. Something I later learned was a stapler hit the wall. To be honest, I didn’t know he had a stapler or would know how to use one. He gets frustrated with a mechanical pencil.

  Darlene pats my hair and beams at me. “Turn around,” she whispers.

  I turn and freeze. “Holy shit.” My skin glows with a hint of gold on my cheeks. My eyelids are dusted in various shades of gold, green, and brown, which make them bright and glittery and huge. My hair is a riot of ringlets. My bare shoulders are shining with a faint golden glow along with my legs where the dress lands mid-thigh. My red lipstick matches my dress. Diamanté earrings sparkle in a line of stones toward my shoulders.

  “You’re a miracle worker.” I touch my hands to my lips, and Darlene quickly smacks them away, a smile on her face.

  “I work with what I got, and you’ve got a lot. You’re beautiful Asia, inside and out. I couldn’t be prouder of being your bestie.”

  I hug her, shushing her attempts to pull out of the embrace. She is not a hugger; more like Cynthia, she’d opt for a handshake. Jason’s turbulent face morphs into my mind.

  Not tonight. I’m going on a date with a man who wants to go on a date with me. Paid good money.

  I swallow heavily. “You’re sure there is no expectation of sex tonight?”

  “For the love of Jesus. No, for the millionth time.” She gathers my bag which has my phone, a can of mace which I insisted on, and lipstick.

  I walk into Darlene’s packed apartment and stop dead when the voices in the room quiet all at once. A dozen eyes scan me. It’s all I can do not to turn, run, call the whole thing off, and change into PJs and watch Princess Bride for the millionth time—my sister’s favorite movie and mine.

  “I brought reinforcements in the form of movie ni
ght peeps.” Darlene squeezes my hand.

  “I see that.”

  Brutus pushes off the wall. “You’re gorgeous. I’d do you myself if I were into you and all.”

  I swat his shoulder. “Gee, thanks.”

  “If I was fifty years younger.” Jerimiah Collins lays a soft kiss on my hand.

  “Forty, Jerimiah.” I smile at the wrinkled old man I adore, who tries in vain to get us to choose war movies. We’ve watched Bridge over the River Kwai, Dam Busters, and Dunkirk, which was a winner. Harry Styles? Hot Damn.

  “Your chariot awaits.” Brutus holds out a hand that I take. I’m so nervous my knees are shaking.

  I’m so glad Brutus is accompanying me. I don’t think I’ll make it to the restaurant, and if I do, I’ll want someone as massive as Brutus by my side when I meet my mystery date.

  Darlene fluffs my hair. “I think you’ll have a better night than you think. Go enjoy, have fun, and see where the night takes you.”

  “It had better not be to an early grave,” I mumble.

  Brutus escorts me to his Tacoma truck. I stare out the window, having no idea where we’re going and not seeing anything but a blur of lights. My stomach is a bunch of butterflies. My mind? Let’s not go there, but I’m wondering how much my skin-handbag will fetch on the dark web.

  “We’re here.”

  I startle when Brutus opens my door. My hand is shaking stronger than a quake hitting nine on the Richter scale. Brutus’s hand is guiding my elbow as we walk into a restaurant of murmuring diners. He scans the restaurant, nods once, and whispers. “Go.”

  “Go where? Where am I going?” I hiss as he takes a step back. He gives me another nudge, then he’s gone.

  Should I go to the bar? Is there a particular signal I don’t know about? Should I dial up Batman and get him to shine the bat thingy in the sky to let the mystery date know I’m here?

  I’m biting on my lip, scanning the dining room, and stop when I see a man stand and walk toward me. I can do nothing but stare at the ravenous, predatory look in his stormy dark eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” I shiver when his hand lands on the bottom of my spine.

  “I’m on a date.” He steers me toward a table.

  What are the chances?

  Wait.

  I stop and look into amused eyes.

  “Yes, Asia. I’m here. On a date. With you.”

  “You’re here to save my pussies?”

  He stares at me hard. “If you only knew.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jason

  I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud. I’m nervous. I, Jason Johnson, am nervous about a date being perfect for my assistant/wife. I literally stopped breathing when she entered the restaurant. My heart slammed to a halt, then all the hairs on my body stood to attention at the beautiful woman standing at the entrance, scared, beautiful, and mine. Well, for the night at least. There is no way on Earth I would let another man near her, especially under the heading ‘Saving Asia’s Pussies’. She can hold her own, sure, but she’s tiny, brave, and mouthy, all things that would get her into trouble.

  I guide her to our table.

  “This place is amazing,” Asia breathes, taking in the surroundings.

  “Named after his grandmother, I believe.” I pull out her seat.

  “Thank you.” She slips into the chair.

  Her eyes are jewels in her face. Gold, brown, and green form the perfect shade of hazel.

  She gazes around the room. “This is fancier than—”

  “Kevin Colty’s picnic at Griffith Park,” I finish for her.

  Her eyes gather me up. “I didn’t think you heard me.”

  “I always hear you, Asia.”

  She studies me. “How did you know about the auction?”

  I flick open the thick napkin and settle it on my lap.

  “Gabriel saw the flyer.” I take a sip of water and my eyes narrow on the vision in front of me. “What were you thinking, offering yourself up like that?” My hand shakes when I think of what could have happened to her.

  She tilts that stubborn chin of hers. “Why are you here, Jason? I get the impression you don’t like me very much. Why would you fork out that kind of cash to go on a date with me?” She takes a sip of water. “You give me whiplash.”

  You’re not alone there.

  “Of course I like you. I wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t.”

  She leans forward, her forehead creased. “But why are you here? I was actually thinking I could go on a date with a nice guy who’d be proud to be seen with me. Maybe it would lead to another date, then another.”

  I stare at her in confusion. “I’m always proud to be seen with you, Asia.” I shrug. “As for your questions, it’s complicated.”

  For both of us. Part of me wants to protect her, keep her safe from harm, and yes, not be with another man, because the thought of another man’s hands on her makes my vision turn red. Part of me knows I can never be part of her future.

  I don’t want to want her, but I do.

  So, whiplash.

  She looks down at the menu, her eyebrows drawn in like she’s not sure of my answer.

  Makes two of us.

  “How’s Cynthia?” she asks, settling the napkin on her lap.

  “Good. I spoke with her today. She’s feeling better, stronger, and is spending time with Angus, who is now the leading authority on herbal supplements.”

  Her eyes sparkle. “I’m glad. I hope they make the most of the time they have.” She opens the menu.

  That sentence swirls through my mind.

  Her head shoots up. “You’ll let me know if there are any blobby things on the menu with a cheaty name, won’t you? Like Pommes de Terre Frites is French fries. Caviar could be lurking.”

  I laugh, really laugh. God, it fills my lungs with joy, even though she murdered the French language.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.” Her eyes are wide, and a smile lingers.

  “It happened once before, June 2018, there was a funny cartoon in the LA Times.” I reach across and touch her hand. “I’ll let you know if there are any sneaky foods under the guise of another name.”

  She smiles, takes a sip of champagne, and moans.

  I wish she wouldn’t do that. It does impulsive things to my dick and balls. Not ideal in a public restaurant.

  We order. Lamb for me and Halibut for her.

  I can do nothing but stare at the vision in front of me.

  “What’s up? You’ve got your shifty eyes on.” She twirls the champagne flute.

  “Nothing,” I say, harsher than I meant. “You look different.”

  Hurt flashes across her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to my boring self in the morning. Cinderella and all. It will end at midnight in a giant poof.”

  I’m fucking this up. I reach for her hand. “What I meant to say is you look gorgeous in everything, even the hot librarian look you’ve got down.”

  “Well, thanks, I think. Lately, I’ve been broadening my fashion sense.”

  I’ve noticed the fitted dresses and heels that make my mouth water.

  Our mains arrive and are paired with glasses of wine.

  “Can I ask you something?” She hooks me with her eyes.

  Anything, you can ask me anything.

  “Shoot.”

  “I know I asked earlier, but why did you do this tonight?” Something must flash across my face because her eyes widen. “I was expecting to have dinner before slowly being taken apart by a medieval torture device in the dungeon of pain.” She glances down. “You don’t even want to know about my nipples.”

  Actually, I do very much want to know about your nipples. Swirl my impatient tongue around the tight buds, whipping you into a frenzy.

  “Jesus, Jason, we’re in a public restaurant. You’ve got your serial killer look going on.”

  I’m ripped out of the fantasy to find myself indeed staring at her bre
asts and her silky skin.

  “My apologies.” I’m so hard right now I should snap my dick off and beat myself over the head with it until I’m unconscious.

  “I did it for Blossom, and as I can use it as a tax deduction, I thought it a worthy cause,” I lie. There’s no way another man is going to take one look at my assistant/wife and not want to bend her over all available surfaces, mark her, claim her as theirs.

  She pokes the piece of fish around her plate and takes a bite.

  “Good to know I’m a tax break.” She takes another bite.

  “Actually, this is the first date I’ve ever been on,” I admit. Usually it’s a charity event or a gala with a conversation going on about expectations.

  She puts down her glass of wine. “What about the swipers, don’t you woo them with food and adult beverages?”

  I shrug. “We meet at bars, public places, or a hotel.”

  She perks up. “Hey, I get to be one of your firsts.”

  “One and only.” And just like that, I buzzkill the vibe.

  I bite into the delicious, perfectly cooked lamb and sneak glances at Asia, who looks thoughtful and stays silent. The portion sizes are on the small side, and before long, we’re both finished.

  Weirdly, I don’t want the evening to end.

  “So how about them Patriots?” I say with a smile, knowing this will get a reaction from her.

  She cocks her head, considers me, then smiles a perfectly evil smile. “Just so you know, I’ve booked an intervention for you next week. You will be unavailable Friday through Sunday. You’ll be forced to watch the worst team in the NFL—which we all know is the Patriots—play every game, with your eyes held open with toothpicks until you’re crying and wearing adult diapers and begging to become a Bills fan.” Her gorgeous eyes twinkle. “We are very selective. I’m not sure you’d get in.”