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

by Hayson Manning

  So far, my life is pretty perfect. Cynthia is doing well and has taken to texting like a teen with her first phone, and I adore it.

  Asia is here, safe, and waking up tangled in my wife/assistant isn’t the worst way to wake up. Actually, it’s the best way to wake up.

  The progress on Asia’s apartment is taking time, and I’m not in any hurry for it to be completed. Gabe found her sewing machine. Sure enough, it was found in Paramount, along with her mannequin. Both are now in the corner of my living room, where my Italian furniture is covered in bolts of fabric and paper patterns, and I couldn’t give a shit. The surveillance photo shows two people entering the store with Asia’s stuff and exiting with nothing, but the likeness is too grainy for a positive ID. The owner couldn’t or wouldn’t confirm it was Jamaica and the Fucker.

  I enjoy coming home to find a bunch of fresh flowers from the farmer’s market on the table and the scent of dinner cooking. A framed photo of James laughing and me scowling at the camera which I’ve avoided for years, is now sitting on my office desk, framed alongside the photo of us in Kona. For the first time in my life, it doesn’t hurt when I look at James.

  What I haven’t been telling Asia is that her apartment is nearly finished.

  It’s been thirty days, and I’ve told Brutus to not hurry to fix hers until all the apartments have doors resembling bank vaults, the elevator is fixed, a security system along with cameras which I’ve run past the landlord are installed. He’s happy to not cough up the expense.

  Soon Asia will be ready to go home.

  Only right now, I’m not ready to let her go.

  What we have here and now is perfect.

  All I’ve got to do is convince Asia to stay. No commitments, no emotional entanglements. Perfect.

  I’ve got this.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Asia

  “Girl, are you sure boss man won’t mind us having movie night at his penthouse?” Darlene curls Blossom around her neck like a scarf. She picks up a vase, turns it over, and whistles. “I’m guessing this could buy me a car, a garage, and a house to put it in.”

  “He won’t mind.” I fuss with the bowl of Kinder Eggs, jiggling them, trying to figure out which holds a dull statue.

  Brutus gives me a hard look. “No cheating, you know the rules.”

  It’s been a month since the attack, and Jason and I have fallen into a rhythm. We ride together to work and leave together. He makes us lunch every day, which is adorable. Watching him wrestle with plastic wrap every morning with an angry scowl and frustrated eyes makes me laugh. He’s taken to putting Kinder Eggs and post-it notes in my lunch sack. It’s my new favorite thing in the world. I blush and squirm.

  I think of his notes.

  I can’t wait to wrap my hand around your ponytail while I fuck you from behind.

  Want to be hole punched in the stationery cupboard? Meet me there in fifteen.

  You can stay, but your clothes can go.

  Tonight, you on the dining table; you’re my dessert.

  And yes, I did get hole-punched in the stationery cupboard.

  Every day after lunch, we assemble our Kinder Egg bounty, then admire what we’ve made, or frown if we get an ornament, then without saying a word, we eat the chocolate. Jason stuffs the whole egg in his mouth, while I take mine apart, savoring each delicious piece that dissolves on my tongue before adding another morsel and watching Jason squirm, his eyes locked on my mouth.

  It is not lost on either of us that today we both had ornaments in our eggs. He smirks when I show him my knight in armor, and I laugh out loud when he unveils a dragon.

  I laugh until I cry, and there’s no way I’m swapping.

  We like each other. We genuinely like each other. We fight and disagree, but never like we used to. He’s softening, and I’m opening up to him more than I have another person. I’ve shared my designs and dreams of the future with him, but I won’t tell him where I want my shop. That’s a dream I won’t share. He’s working fewer hours, and instead of hitting the gym after work, we wander the streets of Santa Monica, and if it’s warm enough, go for a swim in the ocean, me on Jason’s back.

  It’s comfortable and troubling. I’m so in love with him, I’m terrified.

  Our realities and futures do not align.

  I swallow over a big lump in my throat and rapidly blink back tears. The thought of staying is frightening, and the thought of leaving is sucking my soul through a sieve, followed by my heart, until they are both pulpy messes.

  “You okay?” Brutus squeezes my shoulder, concern etched on his face.

  “Yeah.”

  I’m so not okay.

  “It’s good that your apartment is ready. You couldn’t get past the doors Jason had installed on all the apartments with a tank. When are you moving back, girl? We miss you, but get why you’d want to stay here.”

  I freeze, and the blood in my veins turns arctic. “What?”

  Brutus frowns. “Your apartment has been ready for nearly a week.” His face pales. “Fuck, you didn’t know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” Something is clamped around my throat. It might be an anaconda that keeps squeezing.

  “Keeping you safe, that’s what he’s doing.” He nods, convincing himself.

  But is he keeping me safe, or keeping me in his castle, withholding the truth because this arrangement suits him?

  Jerimiah arrives and interrupts the shitstorm going on in my head. God knows I need the distraction.

  “Praise be to Jesus; this building has an elevator,” Jerimiah Collins, from apartment eight zero five, says as he walks through the door. He’s been to every war held on this Earth if his stories are true. I had to look up the Boer War, where one of his English relatives fought. He’s a stern believer in praising Jesus at every opportunity and is lowering himself onto the buttery soft couch with his cane resting beside him.

  It’s movie night and my turn, but since my apartment isn’t finished, but now technically is, I’ve decided to have it at Jason’s. Bronte’s making popcorn and avoiding Brutus, who is now on the balcony, phone to his ear, defeat painting his features.

  My stomach is a tight knot. The big, beautiful man is being played by a woman who uses his daughter as a bargaining chip. He loves his daughter, and his ex will leave Ellery, their daughter, with Brutus when playing mama gets too much and she wants her single life back.

  I smooth my hands down my jeans. Various kids and neighbors are pouring into the apartment. Since the penthouse has two living rooms (oh, the woes of rich people), we’re going to have a kid’s movie night and an adult movie night. The theme tonight is classic movies. The kids are voting on Home Alone, The Wizard of Oz, Willy Wonka, and ET. We had a firm debate that Frozen, in all its forms, is not yet a classic. Besides, we’ve all seen it a bazillion times and know all the songs. There’s only so much princess stuff we can take.

  “Kids, have you decided?” I holler.

  Annabelle, aged seven, who came with Jerimiah as her mom has to work tonight, hollers back. “ET!”

  “Well, this is going to end in tears, and I mean in actual tears. I cry every time I watch ET,” I murmur to Darlene, who nods in agreement. She leads the kids to the other living room with popcorn, juice boxes, and promises of not touching anything. We have a view of them and will keep an eye on them.

  “So, it’s down to Titanic, The Breakfast Club, for the eighties lovers amongst us.” I look pointedly at Darlene, who grins. “And, Forrest Gump.”

  The atmosphere behind us crackles.

  Jerimiah tries to get out of his chair; Bronte tries to merge with hers. Darlene stands and plants one hand on her hip, her eyes narrowed on someone or something behind me.

  “What’s going on?” Jason stands like a statue, hands on hips, eyes roaming over the collective. He looks at the other living room where children are laughing. He walks to Jerimiah and shakes his hand. The old man lowers himself into the chair in relief.

  �
�Is this movie night?”

  I nod. “I sent you a text.” Heat is pounding my cheeks. “I, ah, didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I received your text that said M tonight.” His eyebrows shoot up. “I thought it meant…” A delightful pink slashes his cheeks. “Never mind.”

  Now that I will get out of him later.

  Gabriel is staring at Darlene, who is glaring back at him.

  “What are the choices?” Jason shrugs out of his jacket.

  “Titanic, Forrest Gump, and The Breakfast Club.”

  The sound of a ping sends Darlene stomping into the kitchen and Gabriel glaring at the wall. She marches to the kid’s living room, and there’s quiet as the movie starts.

  “Give me five. I’ll change after I say hi to the kids first.”

  I let out a breath.

  “I wish a man looked at me the way he looks at you,” Bronte says after staring at Jason’s broad shoulders as he walks down the hallway.

  “What?”

  Her green eyes swing to mine. “He looks at you like you’re his oxygen supply, and if you leave the room, he’ll die.”

  I can only stare at her. “Does your world have unicorns, leprechauns, and fairies?”

  She grins at me. “Grew up in a trailer park—no pixies there.”

  “He does, you know,” Darlene chips in, ignoring the elephant in the room in the form of Gabriel. “He looks at you like you’re his morning and dusk, his spring, summer, fall, and winter.”

  “Have you all been sucking down crazy juice? Reading way too many romance novels? Watching Breakfast Club for the seventeenth time?”

  My entire body is flushed in embarrassment. I turn to a grinning Gabriel. “Would you like to stay for movie night?”

  “I’d love to, and I don’t care what the movie is.” He makes a beeline for Darlene, who shoots him a stare that would snap steel.

  “Your man has it bad. Seen a bit in my day back in the war.” Jeremiah nods at me.

  “This is ridiculous. Stop it, all of you.” Another pinging microwave noise, and Bronte places a bowl of microwave popcorn on the table.

  “Sticky fingers and shared breath?” I jolt when Jason speaks beside me. “Bring on the bacteria. I’ve upped your health insurance and put a hospital on standby.”

  I really want to talk to him about my apartment being ready, but the smile on his face and his shining eyes, coupled with the fact he isn’t wearing a black T-shirt, but the blue one I purchased for him in Montana, has me biting my tongue.

  I huff and am pulled next to him when the haunting music starts, Jason’s arm thrown casually over the back of the sofa. During the movie I’m laughing, Jason is holding my hand and has tucked my head into his shoulder when I sob.

  As usual, Jerimiah perks up first on the discussion which accompanies movie night. “He did the right thing giving up the door for Rose. The man was a real gentleman.”

  “Agreed.” Gabriel throws popcorn into his mouth.

  “For the record, I would have insisted Jack and I share the door. I wouldn’t be going anywhere without him.” I bat tears off my face. “He’s the love of my life, so I won’t let him go under and sacrifice himself for me. We stay on the door, or we go together. We’d fight together.” I look around with watery eyes.

  “There’s my fierce little warrior,” Jason whispers in my ear, and goosebumps cascade down my neck and flutter across my belly.

  “If we didn’t both fit on the door, I’d have insisted we’d take turns going in and out of the water. We’d either do it together or not at all.” Darlene swats a tear from her eye.

  Very unlike Darlene, who rarely cries, even when there are puppy and Clydesdale commercials.

  “I don’t know what I would have done, but I couldn’t let the love of my life just slip away. I would have tried to get to a lifeboat with him. I’d never give him up.” Bronte’s eyes are awash in tears. Brutus stares at her like he’s Bezos’s long-lost love child, and he’s included in the will.

  “What about you, Jason, what would you have done in Jack’s place?” I ask.

  His face darkens. There’s my fierce warrior. “I’d fight to keep my woman, even if it meant the ultimate sacrifice.” His eyes hold mine.

  “No compromise?” I whisper, thinking we’re not talking about the movie.

  “Never. When you are handed something extraordinary and precious, you’ll buy them the moon and sacrifice yourself to gift them happiness.”

  The room is still and heavy, like before a thunderstorm.

  Shit.

  I’m saved by little people arriving into the room. The girls are crying, and the boys are trying not to and failing.

  “Why couldn’t ET stay?” Cerise throws herself into Darlene’s arms. Her niece crawls into her lap. “He could have stayed if he wanted to.”

  “No, he couldn’t, baby. It’s not his home.” She soothes her head, then shoots a look at Gabriel I can’t comprehend.

  Jerimiah stands. “Home is where the heart is. Praise be to Jesus.” He thanks us, shakes Jason’s hand, and squeezes mine. “Now come on, littlies. Let’s get you all home.”

  Brutus hired a minivan to get them here and pushes off the wall. “I’m voting Princess Bride next time. Too much crying in this one.” He grins, then walks out the door, car keys jangling. The grin fades. “Bronte, are you coming?”

  She shakes her head, her mouth a tight line. “You made your choice back in the day.”

  On that cryptic note, she slides out the door.

  Darlene hugs me, shoots Jason a speculative look, then her face warms, and she smiles at him.

  Wow. Even I’m blinded by her smile which is slow to unleash but softens her face. Gabriel walks into a wall.

  This definitely needs a conversation.

  We get ready for bed in silence, but it’s not the uncomfortable variety. Jason is finishing up in the bathroom. I’m standing in the dusky pink bra and lace panties when Jason enters the room and jolts. I have my cute goat PJs in hand waiting for him so I can use the bathroom.

  He stalks to me, his eyes never leaving mine. His mouth crashes down on mine, and I moan into him as I melt into his hard chest. He clutches me to him like I’m Rose, and he’s Jack. My back hits the bed, and he braces himself on his elbows and stares into my eyes, my soul.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” His gaze roams my face like he’s imprinting every cell into his memory. “Crazy beautiful inside and out.” He brushes hair from my face, and I can do nothing but stare at him. My breath breaks in my chest, my heart’s doing the winner’s lap at the Indy final. It’s beating so fast, surely he must feel it under my skin?

  He lowers his mouth to mine as I arch up. My arms cling to his massive shoulders, while his mouth pillages and plunders mine like a dirty sailor. My hands are in his hair when he breaks the kiss, both of us panting, sweat on his forehead. His gaze roams my face before his lips brush mine. I whimper at the softness. I’m about to do battle with him when he looks deep into my eyes.

  “Mine tonight.”

  My breath hitches, and my heart quivers. That’s what he thought M night meant.

  “Mine tonight,” he whispers against my mouth, and I nod.

  Because I will be his tonight until we have a conversation tomorrow morning.

  “Yours tonight,” I whisper back.

  He presses a fierce kiss to my forehead. “You slay me, Asia Brown.”

  I’ll never slay you.

  Instead of the usual battle of wills, tongues, and limbs, tonight Jason holds me gently, but he’s in charge, and I adore it. The look of wonder on his face is undoing me. His head between my legs as he stares up at me, his eyes dark and possessive, he never looks away even when I arch off the bed in a near spine-snapping orgasm that rips through my body on a grenade of desire.

  When he enters me, he holds eye contact, and I cannot look away. Instead of thrusting into me hard how I love it, he thrusts gently, cupping my face with one hand. It’s beautiful. He s
tills and frowns when a tear leaks out of my eye and spills down my cheek.

  “Don’t stop, it’s beautiful,” I whisper.

  He’s beautiful. My fierce warrior, keeper of dark secrets, my wounded, lonely man is beautiful and on loan.

  The feelings I have been avoiding crash over me like a tsunami, spinning me, breaking me, and making me whole. I’m in love.

  I love a man who can never love me back.

  “Stay,” he whispers after collapsing into my neck. “What we have is perfect,” he murmurs against my cheek. I say nothing but snuggle into his arms as heartache pours down my cheeks.

  The next morning I’m showered, dressed, and have packed my bag when Jason walks into the bedroom. The smile slides off his face when he looks at my suitcase next to Blossom in her crate, who is letting the universe know she is not happy.

  Makes two of us.

  “Where are you going?” He shoots me a hard look.

  “Home. My apartment is ready.” I stand firm while his face pales.

  He stalks to me. “I meant what I said last night. Stay. What we have is perfect. Why can’t we keep this?” He pulls a hand through his hair and stares at me in frustrated distress.

  I pull a breath lined with razors. “Because I want more than this. I want a commitment. I want love, a dog, a wedding on the beach, kids.” Now it’s my turn to run my hands through my hair. “I want that, Jason. I’ve dreamed about it. Yearned for it, but you don’t, do you?” I ask in a last-ditch effort, because I’m secretly holding out for the fairytale ending.

  He stares at me for the longest time, searching, scanning until he blows out a breath. “No, I don’t.”

  A thousand little knives nick my heart and all my organs. It’s a wonder I can hold myself up, but I do and wrap my arms around my shoulders.

  “I love you, Jason.”

  I’m going to push until I get him to see me, and I love him. This man wants love in his life. He’s a sponge, and I’ll fill him up if he lets me.

  “No, you don’t love me. Don’t say that.” He pales and runs his hands through his hair while pacing. “You’re confusing love with great sex.”