Page 6 of The Fake Affair

“You must be joking,” I say, harsher than intended. Of course she applied to Monarch Ventures. She couldn’t have known I owned the company; I’ve buried my involvement under layers of corporate structure.

She’s pale but composed. “I didn’t realize…”

“Obviously,” I cut her off, my fury mingling with hurt. “Sandra, leave us.”

The door shuts, leaving us alone.

“Your application failed to mention you’re my sister’s best friend,” I say coldly. What truly bothers me is how she left—after years of careful distance, one night of giving in, and she’s gone without a word.

Her chin lifts. “Like hell I would have applied if I knew my boss would beyou. Is this some game? First, you find me on the terrace, take me to your penthouse… and now you’re my boss?”

“Let’s get something straight. You’re here because Sandra hired you. I’d never have approved it had I known.”

“Then fire me.”

The challenge in her eyes makes my blood heat. It’s the same look she gave me at Audrey’s university party years ago when she’d called me out on my arrogance before dragging me down for a kiss—our first.

“Unfortunately,” I stand and move around my desk, enjoying how she tenses, “I have a major acquisition in progress and can’t waste time finding someone new. So we’re going to establish some ground rules.”

“I don’t need?—”

“Rule one.” I let my accent thicken, remembering how it affected her on the balcony. “The wedding night never happened. Rule two: you will be professional, efficient, and invisible. Rule three: one mistake, one slip suggesting any...personalhistory between us, and you’re gone. Clear?”

Her smile is pure venom. “Crystal clear, Mr. Fraser. Shall I start by organizing your calendar? I notice it’s a mess.” She glances at my computer screen.

She’s already pushing boundaries and challenging me, just like she always has. I should fire her now.

“Fine.” I return to my desk. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“That dress is inappropriate for the office. I expect proper corporate attire tomorrow.”

It’s a lie. Her dress is perfectly professional. I just need to erase the memory of peeling an equally flattering one off of her that night at the wedding.

“Of course,sir,” she practically spits the words. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Cancel my nine o’clock. I suddenly have a headache.”

She exits my office with perfect poise but slams the door hard enough to rattle the framed awards on my wall. Through the glass partition, I watch her settle at her desk, a frown on her beautiful face.

My phone buzzes. Sandra. “I assume the introduction went well?” she asks.

I hang up without answering, then toss my phone onto my desk.

What a bloody mess.

I should have paid attention to the hiring process. I should have known she’d eventually cross my path again professionally—she’s too talented not to. Should have ignored her on that terrace at the wedding, like I’ve managed to do at every other family event for years.

Should have run after her that morning instead of letting my pride win.

My calendar alert pings. Bella has not only kept my nine a.m. but moved it to eight forty-five. It’s eight forty-three.

Bloody hell.

I grab my acquisition files and stride out. “Meeting room three,” I bark as I pass her desk.

“Yes, Mr. Fraser,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly. “Would you like me to grab coffee first? I make an excellent cup. Though I don’t know for sure how you take it—black like your soul, right?”

---