Page 1 of My Hired Valentine

CHAPTER 1

Violet

I’ve worked at Sterling & Chase for three years, and I love my job. But that all changed last week when the new partners took over. Some of the changes have been good—new health benefits, free coffee in the breakroom, and better parking—but one of the changes is currently making my stomach churn.

“There is mandatory attendance for the firm’s Valentine’s Benefit Dinner this Saturday,” Mr. Wayne Harris announces from the front of the conference room. His voice is smooth and confident, the kind of tone you’d expect from a seasoned lawyer. But when he says the word “mandatory,” his eyes slide toward me, and my skin crawls.

He’s one of the new partners—mid-forties, always immaculately dressed, and he has this way of staring too long. It's like he’s peeling my clothes off with his eyes. It’s unnerving.

I shift in my seat, hoping he’ll look at someone else, but his gaze lingers, and then, God help me, he winks.

My heart drops. I’m not imagining it. He’s been doing this all week—hovering at my desk, standing too close, letting his fingers brush mine when he hands me a file. And now he’s making it perfectly clear that he expects me at this party.

No. Absolutely not.

I raise my hand. “I’m sorry, sir, but I won’t be able to attend. I’ve already made plans to be out of town for the weekend.”

His smile stretches, thin and humorless. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make myself clear, Ms. Turcott. This isn’t a request. It’s a requirement. Attendance is mandatory for all staff.”

Mandatory. Of course, it is because quitting my job over an event isn’t an option. Not after my last boyfriend drained my savings account before disappearing into the sunset. And definitely not with my rent due next week.

I force a smile. “Thank you for clarifying, sir. I’ll change my plans.”

“That’s the spirit.” He smirks, then moves on to some dull announcement about seating arrangements, but I’m not listening. I’m too busy imagining all the ways this party is going to go wrong.

If Mr. Harris acts like this sober, what will he be like after a few cocktails? Hands everywhere, probably. I can already picture him cornering me by the bar, slurring compliments, and reaching for my waist.

Nope. Not happening.

I’m practically sprinting back to my desk by the time the meeting ends. I collapse into my chair, my mind racing. What am I going to do? I can’t skip the party unless I want to lose my job. But I can’t go alone, either. Not with Mr. Harris waiting to pounce.

I need a date—someone who can act like a human shield for the evening, someone who can keep Mr. Harris at bay and make it clear I’m not available.

But who? My dating history is a dumpster fire. My exes are either losers, criminals, or both. Calling one of them is out of the question. And I don’t have many single male friends lining up to help me out.

Which leaves…what? A stranger? Some random guy willing to play the part for a night?

I grab my phone and open a dating app I downloaded months ago but never actually used. The neon pink heart icon mocks me as I tap it, but I’m desperate. Maybe, just maybe, I can find someone willing to fake it for a hundred bucks. Or at least keep his mouth shut about the whole thing.

I create a profile in record time. No nonsense, no fluff—just the basics.

Name: Violet

Age: 28

Looking for:A kind, discreet man willing to be my pretend boyfriend for one night. No strings attached. Compensation included.

As I hit “Submit,” my stomach flips. This is crazy, right? It’s not like normal people hire dates off the internet. But then again, what about this situation is normal?

I close my eyes and exhale slowly. One night. One date. That’s all I need to get through this. And if the universe has any sense of justice left, the perfect fake boyfriend will come through.

CHAPTER 2

Dex

My muscles ache in the best way as I wipe sweat from my face with a towel. The gym isn’t just a place to stay in shape; it’s my sanctuary, my way of unwinding after grueling shifts in the ER. But today, it seems like I’m not going to escape unscathed from the well-meaning meddling of my friend, Scott.

After a quick shower, I perch at the protein shake bar, sipping my usual chocolate fix while Scott nurses a green smoothie that looks like pond water. We’ve been friends for years, ever since I saved his life during a cardiac emergency. Now, he considers it his personal mission to inject some excitement into my otherwise quiet existence.

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