Page 22 of The Wrong Promise

“Already?”

“You’ll need heels and a nice dress. Not to mention familiarity with the restaurants where we’ll be with SirJames, so it won’t be overwhelming when we are on our first date.”

She unzips her case.

For the love of God, what a mess.

“So tonight is not a proper date?”

“Tonight is practice.” I walk out of the room because her mess overwhelms me, and that is no easy feat.

I open my laptop to a never-ending list of emails. Several are from Hayley, my PA, in Los Angeles, telling me to take action on certain emails as soon as possible.

Hayley has worked for me for the past eight years. Her work ethic exceeded my expectations and in time, I knew I could count on Hayley even as my partner to important functions and gala balls. People judge without intention when I continually attend meetings and special occasions with my PA or alone. They doubt my responsibility and integrity, and some older businessmen, like Sir James, have a dated opinion that my personal life reflects on business matters. If I cannot be loyal to one woman, then how can I be trustworthy in business negotiations?

My cell buzzes on the table with email alerts from Hayley. Why is she working this early on a Sunday?

I have everything open in front of me. Hayley is almost as competitive as me. It’s why I pay her well. If I land this deal, her bonus triples.

I send her a text.

Any news on Sir James’ previous business partners?

She replies within seconds.

I have a few more contacts to reach out to. My email is to alert you to other business matters. The merger. Let me know if you want me to action anything. Have a nice Sunday.

I lose track of time following up on emails and attending to business. When I glance up, Zara is standing in the kitchen, and I no longer have the desire to work.

“Wow,” I murmur as though I have lost the ability to speak.

Her gold dress glimmers under the lights, the fabric hugging her curves and falling loosely from the hips. The cut is perfect, with a slight dip to show her cleavage, but still classy.

Where the hell does she wear this?

I close my computer and stand. “Gold suits you.” Her eyes are outlined in black lines, with long seductive and mesmerizing lashes.

“Thank you. I bought it when I first arrived and haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

I stare at her plump, red lips as she speaks. I’m doing everything in my power not to take her face in my hands and kiss her. I’ve never forgotten the way she kissed me on the night we pretend to have forgotten.

“What?” I snap out of the trance.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m remembering…”

Her gaze flicks over my face. “Remembering what?”

I shake my head. We can’t do this now. My attraction to her on that first night will distract me from what we are really doing here.

“I’ll call Ben and ask him to meet us out front in ten minutes. Would you like something to drink before we go?”Because I fucking do.I need to pull myself together and remember this is a convenient arrangement for both of us.

I pour myself a whiskey, then change my shirt and tie. Walking back into the room, I’m finishing knotting my tie when Zara smiles as she approaches me. Then, with delicate hands, she helps me tighten it.

“If anyone were to own a gold tie, it’s you.” She grins, her eyes dancing with humor.

“Why do you find it amusing?”

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