Then he hung up. I sat there with the phone in my hand, de eply aware something had gone wrong, but not sure exactly what. My eyes slid toward the mocha on my desk, and I wanted to shove it straight into the trash. Whatever was going on, it was that thing’s fault. What had I been thinking? Drinking a double - shot coffee at a new job? My eyes shifted to Lochlan, who was staring at me with a grin on his face. “What?” I asked. “Nothing,” he said, but I was sure it was not nothing. I didn’t know how, but I was sure he had heard everything in that phone call and knew something I didn’t. I decided it was something I didn’t want to know. I wanted to enjoy my confident day. I wanted to trust that my life would get better and that I’d seize this opportunity and make it all happen. So I tossed that mocha into the trash and got back to work, trying not to wonder why Lochlan had given me that look.
Another hour later, Rex came out and walked past my desk. Rather than go straight to the elevator, he stopped. “Evie, did you get that call set up for me?” That was when I remembered he’d mentioned getting a meeting scheduled when he’d sent me a batch of things to do earlier that morning. I had assumed he meant he was going to get it scheduled, not that it was part of my to - do list. I now very seriously doubted I’d understood that correctly. A sinking feeling that I tried my best to ignore followed, but I shoved it away. “No,” I said. “The only person who has called this morning was Ed Lisowski.” “That was my meeting. Did he not schedule?” “He did not,” I said slowly, and my eyes went to Lochlan again. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. What was going on?” “She was too busy talking about Quinn’s problems,” Lochlan said. “Probably turned him off.” “He’s one of the VPs, isn’t he?” I said, my voice weak as I realized how stupid I sounded. I’d made a huge mistake. I knew that much. “No,” Rex said coldly. “He’s not a VP. Ed Larson is one of the VPs. Ed Lisowski is a potential client, the likes of which Quinn Financial has not seen in a decade. He would be an absolutely massive account. What do you mean talking about all of Quinn’s pro blems?” “I — ” I started, but there was nothing I could say at that point that would sound good. “She was detailing how far behind the infrastructure was getting,” Lochlan said. “I was not! I said a few sentences to him. Max.” Rex glared at me. I felt all the blood drain out of my entire body. I wanted to die or disappear, but all I could do was stay silent and still, like a rabbit hiding in the grass from a large predator. “I’m going to give Ed a call,” Rex said, spinning on his heel to reverse course from wherever he’d been going minutes before. “Evie, wait to hear from me before you go to lunch or on a break. We need to talk.” He dashed back toward his office. Once the glass door was closed, Lochlan cackled. “Oh my God, I’ve never seen anyone commit a more delicious work foul than you just did.” “If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?” I nearly shrieked.
“What was I supposed to do? Snatch the phone from your hands? You were just sitting there, obviously clueless, chattering on. Aside from hanging up for you — which probably wouldn’t have gone over too well, either — there wasn’t much I could do.” I took a de ep breath. I thought I might pass out. This was bad. “I can fix this,” I said. Lochlan laughed. “How can you possibly fix this?” “I don’t know, but I can.” I needed Ed Lisowski to be a client. He couldn’t fail to sign on because I’d made some stupid comments about the elevator and state of the buildings. This couldn’t be happening. I had to believe there was a way out of this. When Rex called me into his offi ce, we would talk about this, and I would fix it. Somehow. Rex WHEN EVANGELINE DAY walked into my office, she had no idea what she was walking into. She sat down across from me, smoothed her skirt, and offered me a smile that was far too sweet for the situation. Her green eyes, oddly intense and lovely at the same tim e, locked onto me. I found myself entranced. I cleared my throat and filled my thoughts with business. We were here to discuss business. “Before we get started,” she said, “I’d like to apologize for the things I said to Ed Lisowski. I was stressed, but that’s no excuse for my level of professionalism to slip.” She definitely did not know what we were doing here. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one leading the conversation? She k ept her eyes on mine, no fear, steady, waiting. The woman was gorgeous, but it was more than that. She had to know she’d screwed up, but she remained composed and attempted to head the problem off at the pass. I admired that. More than admired it. It was a bit of a turn on to the point that I was disarmed and speechless. Which pissed me off. “Evangeline... Evie, Ed Lisowski decided not to go with Quinn Financial to manage his fortune because of the things you said. He questioned whether Quinn Financial is as stable of a company as we appear to be if our infrastructure is not up to snuff and if th e CEO’s own executive assistant speaks to a top potential client the way you spoke to him. Frankly, I agree with him. Had I called a company and gotten that response, I would have had the same thoughts. Your lack of professionalism was unacc eptable.”
“I know,” she said. “I am sorry, and it won’t happen again. If you would only let me talk to Mr. Lisowski, I will take full responsibility and fix this.” I was caught between wanting to laugh and yell at her. The combination of desires was confusing at best. Did she seriously think she could fix this? “You’re right. It will not happen again.” Her shoulders stiffened. She would not like what I was about to s ay next. I thought I’d revel in that moment, but instead, I felt something else, something less welcome. I felt bad about what I planned to say. I said it anyway because I had to. “I have to let you go.” All her confidence dissolved and her face crumbled, filled with anxiety so de ep that it reached right out of her and made me uncomfortable. “No, please, don’t do that.” “Evie, Ed Lisowski is worth tens of millions. His account alone could have made a significant improvement to this company’s future.” “I have been at Quinn Financial for a decade, and I have done an exemplary job every single day that I have been here. Today, I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.” “I’m sorry, Evie. My decision is final.” Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t lose this job, Mr. Claremont. I can’t.” “There are other jobs. Please don’t beg.” “There are other jobs, but I need this one and I need it now.” She took a de ep breath. “As in, I need it or I’m going to lose my house. I can’t find another job that pays like this one, and I can’t find it fast enough. I am a good worker. I made one mistak e. One.” “This is far from professional. Have you never lost a job before?” “No, I have not, and I don’t intend to lose this one.” I scoffed. I couldn’t help it. What was going on here? “You don’t exactly have a choice.” Her lips pulled into a frown. And her skirt pulled higher against her thighs as she leaned toward me. I looked away, but found I didn’t want to. “You don’t understand,” she said, her hands on my desk. “I am going to lose my house, but I can’t lose this job . I won’t lose it. Tell me what I can do to make this better. I’ll do it.” I wished I hadn’t just heard any of that. I didn’t want to know about her problems. Everyone has problems. Rich, poor, in the middle. Everyone. Problems. Problems are best bottled up and k ept inside, where they belong, not spewed forth in nervous rants after a work mishap. But now I knew her problems, and that knowledge was doing the one thing I hated more than anything — making me feel bad for her. She needed this job. Actually needed it.
“I made a mistake and I own it,” she went on. “Please don’t let me go. Let me prove myself.” Why should I have felt bad for her? I’d known her for a matter of days. Apparently, no matter how much I didn’t want to care about her house drama, I did. That care halted me in my tracks. I stared at this woman — small in stature and far too charming for her own good, yet strangely bold with her eye contact — and wondered what exactly I should say next. What I should have done was fire her. Stay the course. But now I wavered in my resolve, trying to think of a reason I should ke ep her on as my assistant simply because her begging set off a twinge of guilt in me. Why was I even considering this train of thought? While I wavered, a new thought entered my mind — one triggered by what Anya had said to me the last time we’d spoken, about how we might get out of this situation with a fake marriage. Never in a million years would I team up with Anya, fake or not, but I ne eded a date for Sunday night dinner. Ideally, I needed enough dates to stave off my father and Anya for long enough that Anya would find someone else to pursue. I needed someone who could tread a fine line — one nestled right between being believable as my date, but not someone my parents would ever want me to marry. Maybe, if I could be so fortunate as to find a woman they really, truly would never want me to marry, they would let go of their inane marriage requirement. Evie was beautiful, but extremely annoying. Plus, she had the added bonus of being a complete outsider. My parents would have a hard time with that. She was not Claremont marriage material, and yet somewhere in their hearts, my parents were romantics. A fe w decades ago, their love story had been the stuff of Hollywood legend. If I were to fall for someone they didn’t deem ideal, they would want me to be happy, but they might call off the marriage requirement. All I knew was that I was tired of getting pushed toward Anya. I was tired of being pushed around in general. I needed a date. Evie needed a job. Her need for a job would ensure she didn’t have an incentive to tell the truth to my family behind my back. Maybe Anya’s idea of a fake relationship had not been a bad one. Was I proud of myself for thinking this way? No, I was not. But faced with my tyrannical father, I overlooked my sense of what I should and shouldn’t do. Evie did not want me to fire her. She may welcome this opportunity.
I leaned forward on my desk. “Ms. Day, when I called you in here, I fully intended to let you go.” Her eyes grew wider. “But now I have a different idea.” “I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say.” “You’re probably right. In fact, you might like it so little that you’re tempted to go to HR or the news or somewhere else, but I want to assure you that if you do that, you will regret it. This conversation is between you and me, and if you break that trust, I will make you pay for it.” “I don’t know if I want to have this conversation, then.” I noticed how her fingers gripped the seat of her chair, how rigid her spine was, but also how curious her eyes were. That curiosity told me she was not nearly as afraid of me as I thought she might be, and that was intriguing. “You and I both have a probl em. Your problem is that you need this job, and you just committed a fireable offense. My problem is that I need a shield, of sorts.” She frowned, and I went on before she could get the wrong idea. “I need someone at my side for a few upcoming functions and events, some large, some small.” “Excuse me?” “You play the role of my girlfriend, you ke ep your job.” I k ept my voice professional, like I was proposing a business deal, but the fact was that when I said the word girlfriend, the thought went straight to my cock. I was asking this bombshell of an assi stant to hang on my arm at events. I had to pretend like imagining physical contact with her didn’t stir me up inside. She snort - laughed and then broke into a lovely series of giggles that lit up her face in a way that mostly made me want to go back to firing her. “Is that a no?” “No, it’s not a no. I just don’t really understand what’s happening right now. I feel like you’re pranking me, or you’re about to tell me I’m still fired. This is the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me, and I’ve had a lot of weird things said to me. Why exactly are you asking me — the woman you were just about to fire — to do this? Couldn’t you go hire someone you don’t know?” I sighed. If this was going to work, I couldn’t hide everything from her. In fact, I’d have to tell her more about
myself than I told women I was actually dating. This was a bad idea all around. What was I thinking? “I could find someone I don’t know. This is true,” I began. “But this is not a comfortable situation for me, and it’s one that comes with some risk. The fact that you need this job badly enough not to sabotage yourself by going to the press is my insurance .” And the fact that I needed someone before Sunday weighed in, too, but I didn’t want to sound desperate. “Wouldn’t going to the press probably pay pretty well?” “Going to the press will not be an option. If we move forward with this, we are going to sign an NDA.” “But we don’t have an NDA yet.” Hell. This woman was going to be trouble. What I should have done was fired her and told her never mind, but I k ept talking. Because I didn’t want to go to Sunday dinner without a date and I didn’t have enough time to find someone else. Here in front of me was a desperate woman who looked the part. I would make this work. I just had to stop noticing her body and stick to business. “Do you think you have a story to sell yet?” “Well...” I cut her off. “If you’re not interested, just tell me up front.” Her eyes shifted to the floor, then to my desk, then back to me. She was thinking. “I’m not the kind of person who would go to the press. I just don’t really understand what’s happening.” I leaned forward on my desk. “What’s happening is that I’m offering you a deal.” “I’m not the kind of person who takes deals, either. Not usually.” “I’m willing to sweeten the pot. If what it takes for you to agree is money, then let me know. I can make that happen.” I wanted to stop myself from talking, but all I could think was that she had back payments to make. She needed this. “Do you want me to pay your mortgage back payments?” Her mouth dropped open. There it was. Everyone has a price. “I couldn’t ask you to pay my debt, no matter what you’re asking of me.” “It’s literally nothing to me.” “Well, it’s something to me. This is my house that I have worked for.” “Do you want a lump sum, then?”
She seemed to think that over, but then shook her head. “I don’t want to feel like you’ve bought me.” Her voice got a little sharp, but then she took a breath and looked me squarely in the eye. “I don’t want your money. What I want is for you not to fire m e. Guarantee my job, so that I can ke ep earning my own money and take care of my own situation. That’s what I want. This job.” I stared at her for a few beats to see if she would falter, but she did not. I could barely process her choice to turn down money in favor of this job, but her choice intrigued me. I’d never met anyone who’d said no to money before. “Okay. I will guarantee this job for you, for the period of our agreement. As long as you honor our agreement, your job is safe.” “And after that?” “After that, it will be performance based, as with any job.” “But what about my mistake today? Will that still count? Are you going to be waiting to fire me later for that?” I held her gaze. “Consider that mistake erased if you do this. You’ll be starting over. Another mistake like that after our agreement is done, though, and that will be a different situation.” She let out a breath, slowly, her lips parting in a way that I couldn’t help but notice — a tiny O shape at their center. “So, will people around here know?” she asked. “Absolutely not. The NDA will specify not disclosing to anyone. That will include anyone here. I don’t want any drama.” “But your sister,” she said. Dammit. She had a point there. “We’ll figure out what to do about my sister. Right now, I just need a firm yes or no from you, and then we can talk about details.” She blanched, and I hated that I probably sounded like an asshole, but I needed to ke ep this conversation serious and under my control. I was taking a huge risk. “I need this job,” she said. “If I lose this job, I’m going to lose my house, so if you’re going to fire me if I don’t agree to this, then you have whatever loyalty you want from me. I don’t appreciate the blackmail, but I’ll do it. Consider me your fake g irlfriend. And your employee. This shouldn’t cause any trouble at all.” “Let’s meet for a late lunch outside of work today to hash through the details. Does that work for you?” She nodded.
“Excellent. I’ll see you at noon at Joes eppi’s. Do you know where it is?” She nodded again, and I was certain that I was probably making a huge mistake.