Page 175 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
Max snaps up on all fours, and bounds toward me. He circles me once, then drops down on his hind legs, right in my path.
I blow out a breath, lean, tap his head. He rolls onto his back. Yeah, okay, it's a second more. I drop down on one knee, tickle his stomach.
His jaws open; his tongue lolls out. He wriggles his little body around, his eyes rolling back in his head.
A shocked gasp reaches me from the direction of the reception table. I glance up and the she instantly reddens. She looks down, shuffles the papers in front of her.
I straighten, walk toward her.
She pales.
"Alia, right?
She blinks, peers up at me. "You... you remember my name?"
Lucky guess.
I'd assured Bird I'd tone down the grumpiness. This is me keeping my word. Make a note. Yeah, and on that... I gave in to her and saw a shrink yesterday; I'll survive. Besides, she's promised me a whole lot more in return. I smirk.
"You bet, I do, Ste—I mean Alia." I brush away an imaginary speck from my collar. "I know all of my employees by name." Not. Though, I had asked for the employee list. Another step toward the softening of my profile to the world.
Apparently, internal PR is more important than external, and the fastest way to fix our reputation in the market is to begin on home ground, by turning our people into ambassadors who'll amplify that message blah-bloody-blah... a whole lotta soft arse corporate bullshit if you ask me, b-u-t—Summer had asked it of me, and I'd never turn down my wife.
Besides, I have a sneaky suspicion that it might build the market image of FOK, which will go a long way in driving up the capitalization of 7A. Which is what I need right now. The butterfly effect, huh?
Bird had pointed all of that out to me—when I had finally let her share her marketing ideas with me... i.e. when I had spared her mouth long enough for her to get a word in. I’ve been keeping her busy, all right.
She'd seconded Saint's idea of holding a quick press briefing where we'd play the role of happy couple—no strike that—where we'd be ourselves, and introduce FOK Media properly to the public. Get the positive coverage, blah-fucking-blah.
I'd hated the idea and told her so. But she'd insisted, and well, that was that.
Besides, my wife's bloody smart, and that's the goddam truth. Though sneaky woman that she is, I know when I'm being manipulated into getting to know my employees better. Still I want her to have this little victory; and no, I'm not softening. Not.
She'd hated the name FOK... wanted me to change it; but I wasn't giving it to that... yet.
I scowl and the receptionist swallows.
She backs away from the desk. Bloody hell. Who knew trying to tone down my assholeness would take so much effort, huh? Eyes on the prize. If this makes Bird happy, it's worth it. I'll be nice to my employees if it’s the last thing I do.
I peel back my lips, flash my teeth. So it's more a grimace than a smile, but it’s the best I can do.
"Uh... Ah... Mr. Sterling, are you okay?"
I keep the smile fixed on my face. "Of course, Alia." I tilt my head, "You're doing a good job." I knock my knuckles on the receptionist's console. "Keep up the good work."
Her jaw drops.
Guess I convinced her, huh? I deserve an Oscar for my performance. I push away from the platform, stalk toward the elevators.
Then pause, "Oh, and Alia?"
I turn to face her.
She's staring after me, her mouth half open. "When Mrs. Sterling—"
She smiles, "You mean Summer?”
My heart jumps. Summer. My Bird. My sunshine. The woman I'd do anything for... because I am a pussywhipped motherfucker. That's me, all right, and her happiness is paramount. I want her happy. And naked. And content, after she's come in my arms. Everything else takes second place, including my wants.
I straighten my spine.
"Exactly. When my wife comes in, please ask her to come directly to my office?"
"Of course, Mr. Sinclair."
I pivot. Did she call me Mr. Sinclair? I pause, then raise my shoulders. What-bloody-ever. They can call me motherfucker for all I care. As long as they do what I command.
I stalk across to the elevators, pause in front of mine as the doors slide open. Max bounds in, and I follow. Stab the button for my offices, then drop down to one knee and scratch behind his ears.
"You think she'll enjoy the surprise, little bugger?"
