Page 12 of Strictly Business

But I already know the answer.

I’m not.

There are a lot of things about myself I like—qualities someone might even come to love someday. But I’m not delusional enough to think Nicholas would ever be one of those people. He’s too polished, too confident… too far out of my league.

I don’t belong in his world, and definitely not in this room, surrounded by businesspeople in suits that probably cost more than my entire yearly paycheck.

As much as I try not to admit it, Nicholas is a walking, talking Greek god. With a body that should come with a warning label and a face straight off a runway. Every inch of him screams power and control, from the sharp lines of his jaw to the way his suit fits him like it was made just for him.

And I’m just the assistant. The girl with hair that’s always a bit too frizzy, thanks to drugstore shampoo. The one who never quite fits in. The girl with a bunch of shirts shoved in the back of her closet, collecting dust because they’re way too small, waiting for some miracle to make them fit again. We’re galaxies apart, and I’m pretty sure everyone here can sense it.

“We’ve kept our relationship quiet to avoid the press,” Nicholas continues. I can’t help but admire how effortlessly he handles this, like he’s been doing it his entire life. “But I can promise you, while the tabloids paint a very different picture of me, I am a family man to my core.”

I glance up at him, unable to hide my surprise. I swear, if he ever decided to trade his suit for a movie script, Hollywood would be knocking down his door.

“Isn’t she your assistant?” one of the board members asks, breaking my trance.

My stomach drops. Shit. Am I about to get fired? Is this some twisted test? Will HR hear about this and boot me out the door?

I try to pull my hand away from his, but Nicholas’s grip tightens, his fingers weaving through mine with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down my spine. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t waver. Doesn’t even blink.

“She is, yes,” he affirms with a sharp nod. He’s so sure of himself, so utterly confident, in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever be.

“Well,” the gentleman in the center clears his throat, his pen stopping mid tap. He leans back in his chair, an almost amused glint in his eye. “That changes things.” Nicholas’s hand tightens around mine at those words. “We’d love to move forward now that we know you’re… pursuing something more stable.”

Nicholas nods once. “I appreciate that. And I would love to continue this discussion another day, but right now my fiancée needs me.” The word strikes like a chill, crawling up my spine. I freeze for just a second, caught off guard by how casually he drops it.

Nicholas doesn’t seem fazed. Without missing a beat, he stands and walks to the door, turning the handle. “It was nice to meet with you today.”

One by one, they stand and file out, each of their gazes lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary as theypass me, I hold my breath, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace, trying to channel even a sliver of Nicholas’s confidence.

“Congratulations,” the man in the center says, his gaze flicking toward me.

“Thank you,” Nicholas responds with a short nod.

The man’s eyes stay on me a moment longer than necessary, my heart pounding under his scrutiny. Finally, he gives a brief nod and turns, the door clicking shut behind him.

Nicholas stays by the door, his hand on the handle, and for a brief moment, his gaze shifts downward as his fingers slowly slip from mine.

“Fiancée?”

It’s the only word I can force past my lips, the only thing my brain can latch onto right now. I can’t make sense of what’s happening. What he just said. What this all means.

Nicholas lets out a slow breath, his gaze locking with mine as he turns toward me. “I can explain.”

I cross my arms, trying to keep some semblance of control, even as the tequila still clings to my system. Dressing up, getting drunk, it all seemed like a great idea at two a.m. But now? Not so much, especially with this bombshell he just dropped. “Please do.”

Nicholas steps away from the door, his jaw tensing, and I catch the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s not as calm as he’s pretending to be.

“Before my dad passed,” he starts, voice rough, almost like the words hurt to say, “he had plans to take Blackwood Hotels international. He wanted Blackwood to be a global empire. It was everything to him. But then…” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “He died before he had the chance to. And when I took over as CEO, I did everything I could to keep his dream alive, to make sure his vision of Blackwood in every major city around the world became a reality.”

I blink, and shake my head, clearing out the last traces of the party fog. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” I reply. “What doesanyof that have to do with me?”

His jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly as his gaze locks onto mine. “I’m sorry,” he grunts, his voice low. “I should never have dragged you into this. The board… they told me they wanted someone who came across as a ‘family man.’ And, let’s face it, I clearly wasn’t what they wanted, not with my—” he pauses, his lips pressing together as he swallows, “my dating life all over the tabloids. The deal was about to fall through because of it. And then you… you walked in, and I—” He stops, running a hand through his hair in frustration as his eyes soften. “I’m sorry, Amara.”

God, he has got to stop saying my name like that. It does things to me I don’t even want to think about. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his posture stiff. He’s clearly just as uncomfortable as I am.

And yet, I ask the last thing I ever expected.

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