Page 79 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
Even I know the company wouldn't have been half as profitable these last few years without Grayson in charge. The Wolfe Group has always made money, but profits have practically tripled since he took over.
Take the symposium my event company is managing for the Wolfe Foundation, for example. It wouldn't even be happening without him. He was the one who made the proposal and convinced the shareholders to invest in it.
It's mind-boggling that Grayson's father would risk so much by gambling on George instead—just because he's getting married first. It's deeply unfair.
And what's worse, Grayson's million-dollar bet on me—his fake fiancée—helping to fix things doesn't seem to be paying off at all. His parents don't appear to be taking our admittedly fake engagement into account whatsoever. I mean, sure, we're not a real couple, but they don't know that. Surely, in their eyes, Grayson should have an equal chance of producing the next heir to the Wolfe dynasty as George does.
I sigh, shaking my head, and grab my keys.
I pick up food on the way, partly because he's probably skipped lunch, partly because it gives me a plausible reason for showing up that isn't I wanted to seduce him in my wicked-as-sin red shoes.
When I stroll into the reception area, I find Carissa at her desk.
She bolts upright the instant she sees me.
"Oh," she says, looking startled and uneasy. "You're here."
"I am. Is he in?"
"Oh, um…" She glances toward the office door. "Maybe you should come back later."
I frown. She won't meet my eyes, like she's hiding something she thinks I shouldn't know. Something that, as the boss's fiancée, I definitely should know. In other words, she's covering for him. Loyal, sure—but I wasn't born yesterday.
I smile politely and ask again, "Is Grayson in?"
She shakes her head—but her lie lasts all of two seconds, because then I hear something from inside his office that makes my blood run cold.
A woman's laughter.
Logically, it could be nothing. He knows hundreds of women—hell, maybe thousands. It could be an associate, a partner, a client, even an employee. Maybe it's his mother—no, the voice is too young for that.
But that laughter, combined with Carissa acting shady and denying he's there when clearly he is—and that flash of panic in her eyes?—
It tells me whatever's happening in there is anything but innocent.
Rage floods through me, hot and fast.
I can't believe it.
The cheating bastard and whoever's with him are both about to die.
I don't bother reminding myself that our relationship is fake and that I have no right to be this angry.
Rational thought isn't going to calm me down anyway—not right now, not with the way I feel.
I tell myself it's the principle of the thing. I can't believe he has the nerve to tell me not to see other men when he's in there with another woman, laughing it up like it's the Fourth of July.
Let's see what's going on in there that's so funny.
Without warning, I storm past Carissa, throw open the door to Grayson's private office, and stride in—nostrils flaring, pulse pounding, muscles tight.
Grayson is seated at his desk, and because he's facing the door, he sees me first.
The woman he's with is standing across from him, and when she hears the door open, she turns around.
I know that face.
The shock of seeing her here stops me dead in my tracks.
