Page 41 of Baby For My Bossy Fake Fiancé

I sank into my chair once I returned to the study.

Day one.

Chapter Eleven

Renee

I didn’t know what to wear. And I was panicking.

“Just chill out.” Sierra’s narrowed eyes pierced me through the phone. “It’s not a date with the hot douche. It’s just his sister.”

“Yes, I know,” my shoulders slumped.

Wait, hot douche? Hot?

That was a fact I wasn’t ready to accept yet. So I wrinkled my nose like her words had an odour.

She snickered. And I shook my head before recalling my sudden predicament.

It was the day of our outing. Me and Sarah’s. And though it was still two hours away, I had found myself suddenly panicking after waking up.

What clothes do I wear? Did they even match up to hers? Did sh-

Who was I kidding? Of course, they didn’t. They could never.

Usually, I wasn’t like this. But there was just something about going out with my boss’s sister. I didn’t want to show up looking like less.

“Do you think it’s wrong to feel this way? I mean, am I trying not to be myself?” I furrowed my eyes into my forehead as I continued searching for the perfect fit.

My things were still in my box. I hadn’t unpacked.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not lazy. But if you were suddenly thrown into a mansion with a walk-in closet four times the size of your apartment, you’d be scared. I didn’t want to mess up its luxury with my clothes.

Cheap clothes.

When she didn’t respond, I craned my neck to check her- the phone. Her glare bore holes through my head.

“What?” I stuck my neck out.

“What?” She mimicked my actions with an eye roll. “Of course not. You’re the realest person I know, and whatever you’re going through is simply because it’s your first outing with a wealthy half-stranger.”

Technically not, if you counted my boss. But maybe she was right.

“That makes sense.” I returned to digging through my box.

She let out a small ‘hmph’ before the sound of crunching filled the air. I didn’t need to look to know she was eating her favourite crackers again.

“So tell me. How has living with your boss been like.”

Resisting the urge to recall the embarrassing encounter, I scoffed. “I moved in just yesterday, Sierra Maxwell.”

“I know you didn’t have to use my family name,” she quipped.

“That one,” she suddenly yelled at the dress in my hand. It was a mid-length pink dress. Armless and skintight.

“It’s not a party.” I folded my lips.

“That’s not party attire.”

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