CHAPTER ONE
RICHARD


I BENT OVER THE TABLE, the din of the busy restaurant fading into the background as I struggled to contain my anger. Repressing the urge to yell, I kept my voice low, fury dripping from the words. “What did you say? I’m sure I didn’t hear you correctly


David relaxed back in his chair, not at all concerned by my ire. “I said, Tyler is being promoted to partner


My hand tightened around my glass so hard, I was surprised it didn’t shatter. “That was supposed to be my promotion


He shrugged. “Things changed. nine million. You told me if I surpassed last year, I’d be made partner.”


He waved his hand. “And Tyler brought in twelve million.”


I slammed my hand on the table, not giving a shit if it drew attention to us. “That’s because the bastard went behind my back and stole the client. The campaign idea was mine. He fucking ripped me off!”


“Your word against his, Richard.”


“Bullshit. This is all bullshit.”


“The decision is made, and the offer has been extended. Put in the effort, and maybe next year will be your year.”


“That’s it?”


“That’s it. You’ll get a generous bonus.” hitting the floor with a loud thud. I drew myself up to my full 6’4” height and scowled down at him. Given the fact that David didn’t break the 5’8” mark, sitting, he looked rather small.


David raised his eyebrow. “Careful, Richard. Remember, at Anderson Inc., we’re all about teamwork. You’re still part of the team—an important one.”


I regarded him steadily, tamping down the desire to tell him to go Bleep himself. “The team. Right.”


Shaking my head, I walked away.


A bonus.


I didn’t want another fucking bonus. I wanted that promotion. It should have been mine.

I stood up as fast, my chair toopled back hitting the floor with a loud thud. I drew myself up to my full 6’4” height and scowled down at him. Given the fact that David didn’t break the 5’8” mark, sitting, he looked rather small.


David raised his eyebrow. “Careful, Richard. Remember, at Anderson Inc., we’re all about teamwork. You’re still part of the team—an important one.”


I regarded him steadily, tamping down the desire to tell him to go Bleep himself. “The team. Right.”


Shaking my head, I walked away.

Fifteen minutes later, I had my sandwich and latte. My intercom buzzed. “I have Mr. Maxwell on line two for you.”


“Fine.” I picked up the phone. “Brian. I need to meet with you. Today.”


“I’m fine. Thanks for asking, Richard.”


“Not in the mood. When are you available?”


“I’m booked all afternoon.”


“Cancel.”


“I’m not even in the city. The earliest I can be there is seven.”


“Fine. Meet me at Finlay’s. My usual table.” I hung up, punching the intercom. “Get in here.”


The door opened, and she tripped in—literally. I didn’t even bother to hide the fact I rolled my eyes in disgust. I had never met anyone as clumsy as her—she tripped over air. I swore she spent more time on her knees than most of the women I dated. I waited until she struggled to her feet, picked up her notebook, and found her pen.Her face was flushed, and her hand shook.


“Yes, Mr. VanRyan?”


“My table at Finlay’s. Seven o’clock. Book it. My jacket better be back on time.”


“I asked for rush service. It, ah, there was an extra charge.”


I raised my eyebrows. “I’m sure you were happy to pay it, considering it was your fault.”


Her face darkened even more, but she didn’t argue with me. “I’ll pick it up in an hour.”


I waved my hand; I didn’t care when she retrieved it, as long as it was in my possession before I left.


“Mr. VanRyan?”


“What?”


“I have to leave today at four. I have an appointment. I sent you an email about it last week?”

I tapped my fingers on my desk as I observed her. My assistant—Katharine Elliott—the bane of my existence. I’d done everything I could to get rid of her, but I’d never had any luck. No matter what task I gave her, she completed it. Every demeaning chore she handled without complaint. Pick up my dry cleaning? Done. Make sure my private washroom was stocked with my favorite brands of toiletries and condoms? Without fail. Alphabetize and clean my massive CD collection after I decided to bring them into the office? Completed—she even boxed up every CD when I “changed my mind” and had them delivered back home, spotless and in order. Not a word passed her lips. Send flowers and a brush off message to whomever I had dumped that month or week? Yep.


She was at the office every day without fail—never late. She rarely left the office unless it was to do an errand for me or scuttle to the break room to eat one of her ridiculous brought-from-home sandwiches since I forbade her to eat at her desk. She kept my calendar and contacts in precise order, my files done in the exact color-coding I liked, and screened my calls, making sure my many exes didn’t bother me. Through the grapevine, I knew everyone liked her, she never forgot anyone’s birthday, and made the most delicious cookies, which she shared on occasion. She was fucking perfection.


I couldn’t stand her.


She was everything I despised in a woman. Small and delicate, with dark hair and blue eyes, she dressed in simple suits and skirts—neat, tidy, and completely dowdy. Her hair was always twisted into a knot, she wore no jewelry, and from what I observed, no makeup. She had zero appeal and not enough self-respect to do anything about it. Meek and timid, she was easy to roll over. She never stuck up for herself, took whatever I dished out at her, and never responded negatively. I liked my women strong and vibrant—not a doormat like Miss Elliott.


However, I was stuck with her.


“Fine. Don’t make it a habit, Miss Elliott.”


For a second, I thought I saw her eyes flare, but she simply nodded. “I’ll pick up your jacket and leave it in your closet. Your two o’clock teleconference is set and you have a three-thirty in the boardroom.” She indicated the files on the corner of my desk. “Your notes are all there.”


“My expenses?”


“I’ll finish them and leave for your signature.”


“All right. You can go.”


She paused at the door. “Have a good evening, Mr. VanRyan.”


I didn’t bother to reply.

CHAPTER 2
RICHARD


BRIAN SIPPED HIS RYE, REGARDING me over the edge of the glass. “I agree that must burn, Richard. But what do you want me to do about it?”


“I want another job. That’s what you do. Find me one.”


He laughed dryly, setting down his glass. “We’ve had this discussion already. With your credentials, I can get you any job you want—except here. There’re two major players in Victoria, and you work for one of them. If you’re finally ready to move, give me the word. I’ll have offers for you in any major city you want to consider. Toronto is booming.” I huffed in annoyance. “I don’t want to move. I like Victoria.”


“Is there something holding you here?”


I drummed my fingers on the table as I pondered his question. I had no idea why I refused to move. I liked the city. I liked its proximity to the water, the restaurants and theatres, the bustle of a big town in a small city and especially the climate. There was something else—something I couldn’t put my finger on that held me here. I knew I could relocate; in fact, it was undoubtedly the best thing to do, but that wasn’t what I wanted.


“No, nothing tangible. I want to stay here. Why can’t I get a job at The Gavin Group? They’d be fucking lucky to have me. My portfolio speaks for itself.”


Brian cleared his throat, tapping his glass with his manicured fingernail. “As does your personality.”


“Blunt and in charge works in the advertising industry, Brian.”


“That’s not exactly what I’m referring to, Richard.”


“What exactly are you fucking referring to then?”


Brian signaled for more drinks, and sat back, adjusting his tie before he spoke. “Your reputation and name speak for themselves. You know you’re known as ‘The Dick’ in many circles.” He lifted one shoulder. “For obvious reasons.”


I shrugged. I didn’t care what people called me.


“The Gavin Group is a family-run company. Unlike Anderson, they operate the company on two fundamental principles: family and integrity. They’re extremely particular when it comes to their client base.”


I snorted. Anderson Inc. would work for anyone. As long as there was money to make, they’d create a campaign—no matter how distasteful it was to some consumers. I knew this, and I didn’t care much one way or another. I knew The Gavin Group was far more discriminating in regards to clients, but I could work within those boundaries. David hated The Gavin Group—to leave Anderson Inc. and work there would piss him off so thoroughly he’d offer me a partnership to come back. He might even offer it on the spot when he discovered I was leaving. I had to make this happen.


“I can hold back and work within their parameters.”


“It’s not only that.”


I waited until the waiter withdrew after delivering our fresh drinks. I studied Brian briefly. His bald head gleamed under the lights, and his light blue eyes twinkled. He was relaxed and at ease with himself, not at all worried over my dilemma. He stretched his long legs, leisurely crossed them, swinging one as he picked up his glass. “What else?”


“Graham Gavin is a family man and he runs his business the same way. He only hires people of the same mindset. Your, ah, personal life isn’t what he’d consider acceptable.”


I waved my hand, knowing exactly to what he was referring. “I dumped Erica a few months ago.”


My ex-whatever, made headlines with her drug problem when she walked off the runway in a narcotic-induced high during a fashion show. I was tired of her high-maintenance attitude, anyway. I had Miss Elliott send flowers to rehab with a note saying we were done, and then I blocked her number. Last week, when she tried to see me, I had security escort her out of the building—or, rather, I had Miss Elliott take care of that task. She actually looked sorry for Erica when she went downstairs, returning a short time later to assure me Erica would not bother me again. Good riddance.


“It’s not only Erica, Richard. Your reputation is well known. You’re a playboy outside business hours and a tyrant during the day. You’ve earned your nickname. Neither sits well with Graham Gavin.”


“Consider me a changed man.”


Brian laughed. “Richard, you don’t get it. Graham’s company is family-oriented. My girlfriend, Amy, works there. I know how they operate. I’ve never seen a company like it.”


“Tell me.”


“His entire family is involved with the operation. His wife and children, even their spouses work there. They have picnics and dinners for their staff and their families. They pay well; they treat them well. Their clients love them. Getting hired there is difficult since it’s rare anyone leaves.”


I mulled over what he said. It wasn’t a secret how important family was at The Gavin Group, or how little turnover the company had in personnel. David hated Graham Gavin and everything he stood for in the business world. To him it was a dog-eat-dog world, and that was how he played. The bloodier, the better. We had lost two major accounts to Gavin recently, and David had been furious. Heads rolled that day—many of them. I was lucky they hadn’t been my accounts.


“So, I’m shit out of luck.”


He hesitated, glanced at me, then looked over my shoulder. “I do know one of their top executives is leaving.”


I leaned forward, interested at that piece of news. “Why?”


“His wife was ill. Her prognosis is good, but he’s decided to make a change for their family, and stay home.”


“It’s a temporary position?”


Brian shook his head.

“This is the sort of man Graham Gavin is. He’s giving him early retirement with full pension and benefits. He told him once his wife recovers, he’ll send them on a cruise to celebrate.”


“How do you know this?”


“Amy is his assistant.”


“He needs replacing, then. Get me an interview.”


“Richard, have you not been listening to a word I said? Graham won’t hire someone like you.”


“He will if I can convince him I’m not what he thinks.”


“And how are you going to do that?”


“Get me the interview and I’ll figure out that part.” I took a long sip of my scotch. “This has to be done under the radar, Brian.”


“I know. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m telling you—this will be hard to sell.”


“There’s a generous finder’s fee if you get me in.”


“Is it worth it to prove to David you’ll leave? You want the partnership that much?”


I ran my hand across my chin thoughtfully, scratching at the scuff. “I’ve changed my mind.”


“What do you mean?”


“David hates Graham. Nothing would anger him more than losing me to him. I know a few of my clients would jump ship too, which would add insult to injury. I’m going to get Graham Gavin to hire me and when David tries to get me back, it’ll be my turn to say ‘things changed’ to him.”


“You’re rather confident.”


“I told you—that’s what makes it in this business.”


“I’m not sure how you plan to accomplish it, but I’ll see if I can get you in.” He pursed his lips. “I went to school with his son-in-law, and we still golf together. We’re supposed to get together for a round next week. I’ll feel him out about it.”


I nodded, my mind going a thousand miles an hour.


How did one convince a stranger they weren’t what they seemed?


That was the million-dollar question.


I only had to figure out the answer.

CHAPTER 3
RICHARD


THE NEXT MORNING, I HAD an idea, but I wasn’t sure how to execute it. If Graham Gavin wanted a family man, he’d get one. I only had to figure out how to accomplish that small detail. I could do it—it was my field of expertise, after all—I was an idea man.


My main problem was the sort of women I typically had in my life. Female versions of myself. Beautiful to look at, but cold, calculating, and not interested in anything except what I could give them: the fancy dinners, expensive gifts, and if they lasted long enough, a trip away somewhere before I dumped them. Because I always did. I only cared about what they could give me, as well. All I wanted was something pretty to look at and a warm body to bury myself in at the end of the evening. A few hours of mindless pleasure until the stark, cold reality of my life set back in.


None of them would be the sort of woman Graham Gavin would believe I’d spend the rest of my life with. Sometimes I could barely spend an entire evening.


Miss Elliott knocked timidly, waiting until I shouted for her to come in. She entered, carefully carrying my coffee, setting it on my desk. “Mr. Anderson has called a staff meeting in the boardroom in ten minutes.”


“Where’s my bagel?”


“I thought you’d rather have it after the meeting since you’d be rushed. You hate eating too fast. It gives you heartburn.”


I glowered at her, hating the fact she was right.“Stop thinking, Miss Elliott. I already told you, you get it wrong more often than you get it right.”


She glanced at her watch—a simple black one with a plain face, no doubt bought at Walmart or some other common store. “There’re seven minutes until the meeting. Do you want me to go get your bagel? By the time it’s toasted, you’ll have two minutes to wolf it down.”


I stood, grabbing my mug. “No. Thanks to you, I’ll be hungry in the meeting. If I make a mistake, it’s on you.”


I stormed out of my office.





David tapped the glass-topped table. “Your attention. I have some good news and some bad. I’ll start with the good. I’m pleased to announce the appointment of Tyler Hunter to the role of partner.”


I schooled my face, keeping it blank. I could feel the sidelong glances, and I refused to let anyone know how pissed off I was with the situation. Instead, to mess with them, I rapped the glass with my knuckles. “Good on you, Tyler. Best of luck.”


The room was silent. Internally, I smirked. I could act like a decent person. It didn’t change the fact I loathed the deceitful bastard or resented David for doing this to me.


David cleared his throat. “So, the bad news. As of today, Alan Summers is no longer with the company.”


My eyebrows shot up. Alan was one of the heavy-hitters at Anderson Inc. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Why?”


David shot me a look. “I beg your pardon?”


“Why is he gone? Did he leave on his own?”


“No. He . . .” David curled his lips in a twisted grimace. “It was brought to my attention he was seeing one of the assistants.” He glowered. “You know there is a strict policy about dating within the company. Let this be a lesson to all of you.”


Anderson Inc. was firm on their rules. You followed them, or you were gone. They’d figuratively rip off your balls, leaving you floundering. Fraternizing within the company was a stringent no-no. David believed romance in the office clouded your mind. Anything that took your focus off work or his bottom line, he frowned upon. I assumed he was against his employees having any sort of life outside Anderson Inc. Glancing around the table, I realized every executive was either single or divorced. I had never noticed, or cared about the marital status of my co-workers.


“On a side note, Emily has left us, as well.”


It didn’t take a genius to know which assistant Alan had been seeing. Emily was his PA. What an idiot. You never got involved with someone at work, especially your PA. Luckily, I wasn’t even remotely tempted.


David droned on a bit, and I tuned him out, going back to my own problem. When others started to stand, I jumped to my feet, leaving the boardroom, not wanting the see all the handshakes and slaps on the back Tyler would receive.


Fucker.


I strode into my office; stopping at the sight of Brian perched on the edge of Miss Elliott’s desk, his wide shoulders shaking with laughter. They both looked up when I came in, two very different expressions on their faces: Brian looked amused and Miss Elliott looked guilty.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. I turned to Miss Elliott. “Why didn’t you let me know someone was waiting?”


Brian held up his hand. “I got here a few minutes ago, Richard. Katy offered me coffee, and to let you know I was here, but I was enjoying her company far more than I ever do yours, so I wasn’t in a hurry.” He winked at me. “She is more entertaining, not to mention prettier than you. I always like spending time with her.”


Pretty and entertaining? Miss Elliott? And what was this Katy shit?


I barked out a laugh at those descriptions.


“In my office,” I ordered.


He followed me in, and I shut the door. “What are you doing here? If David saw you . . .”


He shook his head. “Relax. It’s not as if I’ve never been here before today. And what if he does see me and suspects something? Make him sweat a little.” I paused. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. He knew Brian was the biggest headhunter in Victoria. Maybe if he saw Brian wander around Anderson Inc. it would make him a little nervous.


“Lay off charming my assistant. It’s a waste of time, and I thought you had a girlfriend.”


“I do, and I wasn’t charming her. She’s great. I enjoy talking to Katy.”


I snorted. “Yeah, she’s great—if you like doormats who masquerade as emaciated scarecrows.”


Brian frowned. “You don’t like her? Really? What’s not to like?”


“She’s fucking perfect,” I stated, my sarcasm thick. “She does everything I tell her. Now, drop the subject and tell me why you’re here.”


He lowered his voice. “I had coffee with Adrian Davis this morning.”

I crossed the office and sat down at my desk. “Adrian Davis of The Gavin Group?”


He nodded. “I was visiting Amy, and I went to see him to arrange our round of golf next week. He’s agreed to talk to Graham about interviewing you.”


I thumped the top of the desk with my fist. “Fucking great news. What did you tell him?”


“I said you were leaving for personal reasons. I told him, despite the rumors, your situation had changed and you were no longer comfortable with the direction of Anderson Inc.”


“My situation?”


“I told him your playboy days were behind you, and the way you conduct business had evolved. I informed him you wanted a different sort of life.”


“He believed you?”


Brian smoothed the crease of his pants with his fingertips, meeting my gaze. “He did.”


“Did you tell him what caused this miraculous turnabout?”


“You sort of suggested it yourself last night. I said you fell in love.”


I nodded. It was exactly what I was thinking. Graham liked the family atmosphere, and I would have to fit in.


Brian regarded me shrewdly. “Given your history, Richard, this woman will have to be vastly different from the women you’ve been linked with, especially recently.” He tilted his head. “Someone more down-to-earth, warm, and caring. Real.”


“I know.”


“Is it really worth it?”


“Yes.”


“You’ll lie and pretend, all because of a job?”


“It’s more than a job. David screwed me over—so did Tyler. It’s not the first time. I’m not taking this shit anymore.” I reclined in my chair, staring out the window. “I may be hired under less than honest intentions, but Graham will get a fucking great addition to his company. I’ll work my ass off for him.”


“And the woman?”


“We break up. It happens.”


“Any ideas who the lucky lady is going to be?”


I shook my head. “I’ll figure it out.”


There was a knock and Miss Elliott entered, placing a bagel and fresh coffee on my desk. “Mr. Maxwell, can I get you another cup of coffee?”


He shook his head, smiling at her. “I told you, it’s Brian. Thanks, Katy, but no. I have to get going, and your boss here has a huge project to work on.”


She turned to me, her eyes wide. “Is there something I need to do, Mr. VanRyan? Can I help in some way?”


“Absolutely not. There is nothing I need from you.”


Her cheeks flushed, and her head dropped. She nodded, exiting the office, closing the door behind her.


“God, you’re an ass,” Brian observed. “You’re so rude to her.”


I shrugged, unrepentant.


He rose from his chair, buttoning his jacket. “You need to watch your attitude to have a chance for your plan to work, Richard.” He indicated in the direction of the door. “That pretty girl is the exact sort of person you need to interact with Graham.”


I ignored the pretty remark, gaping at him. “Interact?”


He smirked. “Do you really think he’s going to accept a name and a brief introduction? I told you how involved he is with his staff. If he decides to hire you, he is going to want to meet your lady—more than once.”


I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I thought I could get someone I knew to pose for an evening, but Brian was right. I would need to keep up the façade for a while—at least until I proved my worth to Graham.


He hesitated at the door. “I assume Miss Elliott isn’t married.”


“That should be obvious.”


He shook his head. “You’re blind, Richard. Your solution is right in front of you.”


“What are you talking about?”


“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.”


He departed, leaving the door open behind him. I heard him say something that made Miss Elliott laugh, the sound unusual coming from her area. I grabbed my bagel,tearing off a bite with more force than necessary.


What the hell was he suggesting?


A niggling thought began to grow, and I glanced at the door.


He couldn’t be serious.


I groaned, dropping my bagel on my plate, my appetite gone.


He was totally serious.


Bleep my life.

That would be all for today. tomorrow we continue.

Love this story... Can't wait for the next update..

Loving this story ooo!!! Welldone op

CHAPTER 4
THE NOISE OF THE TREADMILL was a steady hum under my feet as I pounded away. I had hardly slept last night, and my mood was dark. Sweat dripped down my back and face. I picked up my towel and wiped it away roughly, tossing it to the side. My iPod blared with heavy music, and still it wasn’t loud enough, so I turned it up, glad the condo was soundproofed.


I kept going, almost at a frantic pace. I had gone over all my options and plans in the dark of the night, coming up with two ideas.


My first thought had been if Brian and Adrian got me in, I could try to bluff my way through an interview, telling Graham only vague details of the woman who supposedly changed my outlook and therefore, me. If I approached it right, I could manage to keep up a façade until I had proven myself to Graham, then have the unspeakable happen—this perfect woman leaves me. I could play heartbroken, and throw myself into work.


Except from what Brian had explained, my idea probably wouldn’t work.


It meant I needed to produce a physical woman—one who would convince Graham I was a better man than he believed me to be. Someone, as Brian put it, “real, warm, and down-to-earth.”


I didn’t know many women who would fall in those categories, unless they were over sixty. I didn’t think Graham would believe I could fall in love with someone twice my age. None of the women I fraternized with would be able to pass his inspection. I rolled around the idea of hiring someone—an actress perhaps—but that seemed too risky.


Brian’s words kept repeating themselves in my head. “You’re blind, Richard. Your solution is right in front of you.”


Miss Elliott.


He thought I should use Miss Elliott as my girlfriend.


If I took a step back and tried to be objective—he had a point. It was the perfect cover. If Graham thought I was leaving Anderson Inc. because I was in love with my assistant and chose her—and our relationship—over my job there, it would score major points with him. She was unlike any other woman I had ever been with. Brian found her warm, bright, and engaging. Other people seemed to like her. All pluses.


Except, it was Miss Elliott.


With a groan, I shut off the machine,grabbing my discarded towel. In the kitchen, I got a bottle of water, chugged it down, and turned on my laptop. Signing into the company site, I scrolled through the employee files, stopping on Miss Elliott’s page. I studied her photograph, trying to be unbiased.


There was nothing remarkable about her, but her bright blue eyes were wide with long lashes. I imagined her dark hair was long since I had never seen it done in any other way aside from a tight bun. Her skin was very pale; I wondered how she would look under the skillful hands of a makeup artist and dressed in some decent clothes. Squinting at the screen, I stared at her picture. Some sleep wouldn’t hurt to rid her of the dark circles under her eyes and maybe eating something other than peanut butter and jam sandwiches would help. She was rail thin. I liked my women with a few more curves.

I groaned in frustration, rubbing the back of my neck.


I supposed, in this case, it didn’t matter what I preferred. It was what I needed.


In this case, I might have to admit I needed Miss Elliott.


Goddamn my life.


My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen, surprised to see Brian’s name.


“Hey.”


“Sorry if I woke you up.”


I glanced at the clock, seeing it was only six-thirty. I was surprised he was awake, though. I knew he was a late riser.


“I’ve been up a while. What’s going on?”


“Graham will see you today at eleven.”


I stood up, feeling a flow of nerves ripple down my spine. “Are you serious? Why so fast?”


“He’s away for the remainder of the week, and I told Adrian you were considering accepting a job interview in Toronto.”


I chuckled. “I owe you.”


“Big. So big you’ll never be able to repay me.” He chortled. “You know there’s a good chance this will go nowhere unless you can convince him things are different for you, right? I laid it on pretty thick with Adrian—but my word is only going to take you so far.”


“I know.”


“Okay. Good luck. Let me know what happens.”


“I will.”


Hanging up, I checked my schedule, smirking when I realized Miss Elliott had updated it last night. I had a breakfast meeting at eight, which meant I’d be back in the office by ten or so. I decided not to go into the office. I had an idea how to introduce my so-called girlfriend into my interview.

I dialed Miss Elliott’s number. She answered after a few rings, mumbling her sleepy greeting.


“Mmmm . . . ello?”


“Miss Elliott.”


“What?”


I sucked in a deep breath, trying to be patient. It was obvious I had woken her. I tried again.


“Miss Elliott, it’s Mr. VanRyan.”


Her voice was raspy and confused. “Mr. VanRyan?”


I sighed heavily. “Yes.”


I could hear a lot of movement, and I had the mental image of her scrambling to a sitting position, looking rumpled.


She cleared her throat. “Is, ah, there a problem, Mr. VanRyan?”


“I won’t be in the office until after lunch.” There was silence.


“I have a personal matter to take care of.”


Her voice was dry when she spoke. “You could have texted me . . . sir.”


“I need you to do two things for me.” I kept going, ignoring the somewhat sarcastic edge to her voice. “If David comes in and asks where I am, tell him I’m on a personal matter and you have no idea where. Is that clear?”


“Crystal.”


“I need you to call me at eleven-fifteen. Exactly.”


“Did you want me to say anything or just breathe heavily?”


I pulled the phone away from my ear, surprised at her tone. It would seem my PA wasn’t pleased at being woken early. She was being far mouthier than usual, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I need you to tell me my four o’clock appointment has been switched to three.”


“That’s it?”


“Yes. Now repeat what I just told you.”


She made a strange sound, somewhat like a grumble, which made me smirk. Miss Elliott appeared to have a bit of a backbone if the circumstances were right. However, I wanted to make sure she was awake enough to remember my instructions.


“I’m to tell David you are on a personal errand and I have no idea where. I will call you at exactly eleven-fifteen and tell you your four o’clock has been switched to three.”


“Good. Don’t screw it up.”


“But Mr. VanRyan, it doesn’t make any sense, why would—”


Not bothering to listen anymore, I hung up.

CHAPTER 5
RICHARD


THE BUILDING HOUSING THE GAVIN Group was a polar opposite to that of Anderson Inc. Unlike the vast skyscraper of steel and glass I worked from daily, this building was brick, only four stories high, and surrounded by trees. I parked my car after checking in with the guard at the entrance, who smiled pleasantly and handed me a guest pass. Entering the building, another security guard greeted me and let me know Graham Gavin’s office was located on the top floor, then wished me a good day.


Minutes later, a secretary led me to a boardroom, handed me a fresh cup of coffee, and told me Graham would be with me momentarily. I took the time to absorb the details of the room around me, again struck by the difference between the two companies.


Anderson Inc. was all about flash. The offices and boardroom were all state of the art—white and black was the predominant palette. Even the artwork was monochrome with lots of metal everywhere. Hard, modern chairs, thick glass-topped tables and desks, blond hardwood on the floor—all cold and remote. If this room was any indication, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The walls were lined with warm oak paneling, there was an oval wood boardroom table surrounded by plush leather chairs, and deep, soft carpeting underfoot. An open area to the right housed an efficient kitchen. The walls showcased many of their successful campaigns, all framed and displayed tastefully. Various awards lined the shelves. At one end of the room was an idea board. There were scribbles and ideas sketched out on it. I stepped closer, studying the images, quickly absorbing the structure of the campaign they were outlining for a brand of footwear. It was all wrong.


A deep voice brought me out of my musings.


“From the look on your face, I’d say you don’t like the concept.”


My gaze met the somewhat amused expression of Graham Gavin. We had encountered each other at industry functions a few times, always polite and distant—a professional shake of hands and brief acknowledgment being the only interaction. He was tall and confident, with a headful of silver hair that gleamed under the lights.


Up close, the warmth in his green eyes and the low timbre of his voice struck me. I wondered if the idea board had been left on purpose—a test of sorts.


I shrugged. “It’s a good concept, but not new. A family using the same product? It’s been done.”


He perched his hip on the edge of the table, crossing his arms. “Done, but successful. The client is Kenner Shoes. They want to appeal to more than one demographic.”


I nodded. “What if you did that, but only featured one person?”


“I’d like to hear more.”


I pointed to the image of the family, tapping my finger on the youngest child. “Start here. Focus on him. The very first purchase of their product—shoes bought by his parents. Follow him as he grows, highlighting some pertinent points in his life wearing them—first steps, first day of school, hiking with friends, playing sports, on dates, graduation, marriage . . .” My voice trailed off.


Graham was quiet for a moment, then started to nod. “The product stays with you as you grow.”


“It’s a constant. You change—it doesn’t. Yours for life.”


“Brilliant,” he praised.


For some reason, his compliment made my chest warm, and I ducked my head at the strange sensation. He pushed off the table, holding out his hand. “Graham Gavin.”


I took his hand, noting the firmness of his grip. “Richard VanRyan.”


“I’m impressed already.”


Before I could reply, my phone buzzed. Right on time. “I’m sorry.” I glanced at the screen, hoping I looked sheepish. “I need to take this. I apologize.”


“No problem, Richard.” He smiled. “I need coffee.”

I turned away as I answered. “Katharine,” I murmured, pitching my voice low.


For a moment, there was silence, then she spoke. “Mr. VanRyan?”


“Yes.” I chuckled, knowing I had confused the Bleep out of her. I didn’t think I had ever called her anything besides Miss Elliott, and certainly never in a voice like the one I had just used.


“Um, you asked me to call and tell you your four o’clock was changed to three?”


“Three o’clock now?” I repeated.


“Yes?”


“Okay, I’ll adjust. Is everything all right there?”


She sounded shocked when she replied. “Mr. VanRyan, are you all right?”


“Of course, I am.” I couldn’t resist teasing her more. “Why?”


“You sound, ah, different.” “Stop worrying,” I soothed, knowing Graham was listening. “Everything is fine.”


“David was looking for you.”


“What did you tell him?”


“Exactly what you instructed me to say. He . . .”


“What? What happened?”


“He’s on a bit of a tear this morning.”


“David’s always on a tear. Take an early lunch and lock the office door. I’ll deal with him when I return,” I instructed as I smirked into the phone, injecting a concerned tone to my voice.


Bewilderment led to bravery for her. “Lock the office and take an early lunch? Are you drunk?”


That did it. I burst out laughing at her words. “Just do it, Katharine. Stay safe, and I’ll see you when I get back.” I hung up, still smiling, and turned around to face Graham. “My assistant,” I explained. He regarded me with a knowing look. “I think I know why you’re looking to leave Anderson Inc.”


I returned his look with a small shrug.


I had him.





“Tell me about yourself.”


I grimaced at his question. “I think you know a lot about me already, Graham. At least you know of me.”


He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Your reputation does precede you.”


I bent forward, hoping to appear earnest. “People change.”


“And you have?”


“What I want in life and how I get it has, yes. Therefore, the person I was, no longer exists.”

“Falling in love does that to a person.”


“So I’m discovering.”


“Anderson Inc. has a strict policy about interpersonal relationships.”


I snorted. “David doesn’t like his staff to have relationships inside or outside the office. It detracts from business, he thinks.”


“And you disagree?”


“I think you can do both—with the right person.”


“And you found that person?”


“Yes.”


“Your assistant.”


I swallowed hard, only able to nod.


“Tell me about her.”


Shit. When it came to business, I could talk forever. Strategies, angles, concepts, visualizations—I could go on for hours. I rarely spoke on a personal level about myself, so what could I possibly say about a woman I barely knew, and didn’t like. I had no idea. I swallowed again and glanced at the table, running my fingers over the smooth surface.


“She’s the biggest klutz I’ve ever met,” I blurted out—that much was at least true.


He frowned at my tone, and I was quick to cover my mistake.


“I hate it when she hurts herself,” I explained in a softer voice.


“Of course.” He nodded.


“She’s, ah, she’s perfect.”


He laughed. “We all think that of the women we love.”


I searched my brain, making a mental list of the things I knew about her. “Her name is Katharine. Most people call her Katy, but I like to use her whole name.”


It wasn’t really a lie. I called her Miss Elliott all the time.


He nodded. “Such a lovely name. I’m sure she likes to hear you say it.”


I smirked, remembering her reaction earlier. “I think it confounds her.”


He waited as I mulled over my next words. “She’s tiny and unobtrusive. Her eyes are like the ocean—so blue they’re fathomless. Everyone adores her at the office. She bakes cookies for people—they love them.” I wavered, trying to think of more. “She hates to be woken any earlier than necessary. Her voice gets all growly, which makes me laugh.”


He smiled encouragingly.


“She keeps me in line—she’s an amazing assistant and I’d be lost without her.” I sighed, unsure what else I could add. “She’s undoubtedly too good for me,” I admitted, knowing deep down it was true. I was certain I was the bad person in this scenario, especially given what I was doing currently.


“Do you want to bring her onboard with you?”


“No!” I exclaimed. This was my chance to get rid of her.


“I don’t understand.”


“She, ah, we want to start a family. I’d rather have her at home, and have someone else at work. I want her to have the chance to relax and enjoy life for a while—without working.”


“She isn’t enjoying it now?”


“It’s difficult, given the situation, and she works too hard,” I added, hoping that sounded right. “She’s looked tired the past while. I want her to sleep as much as she wants.”


“You want to look after her.”


We were getting into dangerous territory. I had no idea how to respond; I had never wanted to take care of anyone, except myself. Nevertheless, I nodded in agreement.

“You live together, I assume? I imagine it’s the only time you can relax and be a couple.”


Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that.


“Ah, we, yeah . . . we value our private time.”


“You don’t like to discuss your personal life.”


I smiled ruefully. “No. I’m used to keeping it all in.”


That, at least, wasn’t a lie.


“We’re a unique operation here at The Gavin Group—on many levels.”


“Something I’m looking forward to.”


He indicated to the board. “We believe in teamwork, here and in our personal lives. We work on the campaigns as a group, feeding off each other, much like you and I did a few moments ago. We share in the triumphs and the disasters.” He winked. “Not that we’ve had many of those. I value every employee I have.”


“It’s an interesting way of doing things.”


“It works for us.”


“Obviously. Your name is well respected.”


Our eyes met. I kept my expression open, level, and I hoped, sincere.


He rested back in his chair. “Tell me more about your idea.”


I relaxed back, as well. That was easy—far easier than talking about Katharine Elliott.





An hour later, Graham stood up. “I’m away until Friday. I’d like to extend an invitation to attend a barbeque my wife and I are having on Saturday. I’d like you to meet her and a few other people.” I knew what that meant. “I’d enjoy that, sir. Thank you.”


“With Katharine, of course.”


I kept my face impassive as I grasped his extended hand. “She’ll love it.”





Back at the office, Miss Elliott was at her desk when I arrived. Although she was on the phone, I felt her eyes watching me as I crossed her path. No doubt, she was waiting for my wrath to descend on her for whatever infraction I chose to pick out today. Instead, I nodded and kept walking to my desk, flipping through the messages, and the small pile of documents waiting for my approval. Feeling oddly disinterested, I stood up, looking out at the skyline and the city below; its bustle and noise muted by the glass and height from the street. The view and sound would be much different at The Gavin Group.


Everything would be different.


Often, by the time I finished any sort of meeting with David, I was a mass of nerve endings, pulsating and anxious. He knew how to push the buttons of every person who worked for him; how to say and do exactly what he needed to get what he wanted—be it positive or negative. Until this very moment, I hadn’t realized that. Meeting with Graham, even though I was on edge, given the premise I was meeting him under, I was still calm.


In my research of his company, and of the man himself, I had read over and again of his kindness and generosity of spirit. In fact, other than David’s low opinion of Graham, I hadn’t read or heard another unkind remark. Sitting with him, discussing the concepts in my mind for the footwear campaign, I had felt an enthusiasm that had been lacking for a long time. I felt creative again, energized. Graham listened, truly listened, encouraging my thought process with positive reinforcement, and adding ideas of his own. To my surprise, I liked his concept of teamwork. I wondered what it would be like not to be involved in the daily cutthroat world of Anderson Inc. How it would feel to work with people instead of against them. Would it make for a better life? An easier one—of that fact I was certain. Yet, I felt it would be no less challenging.


All I knew was, by the time our meeting ended, my reasons for wanting to work for him were no longer all about revenge. I wanted to feel that enthusiasm—to be proud of the campaigns I created. It was an unexpected situation, yet not unpleasant.


My door slammed and I turned, frowning, my thoughts interrupted.


“David.” I regarded him pointedly. “Good thing I wasn’t with a client.”


“Katy told me you were free. She buzzed you, but you didn’t answer.”


I had been so deep in thought I hadn’t heard the intercom. That was a first.


“What can I do for you?”


He drew back his shoulders, preparing for an argument. “Where were you this morning? I was looking for you, and you weren’t answering your phone, or returning my messages.”


“I was on a personal appointment.”


“Your assistant said it was a doctor’s appointment.”


I knew he was lying. One thing Miss Elliott was good at was keeping my secrets. I called his bluff. “Why she would say such a thing, I have no idea. I didn’t tell Miss Elliott where I would be. As I said, it was personal.”


He scowled at me, but dropped it. He walked around a bit, patting his comb-over; a gesture of his I knew well. He was going in for the kill. He pivoted to face me. “Why was Brian Maxwell here the other day?”


I shrugged, moving to sit at my desk so he wouldn’t see my smirk. Now, I understood what this was all about.


“Brian and I are friends. We were setting up a round of golf.”


“He couldn’t do that over the phone?”


“He was in the neighborhood. He likes to flirt with Miss Elliott, and he dropped by in person. Is there a problem?”


“What are you up to?”


I lifted my hands in supplication. “I’m up to nothing, David, except a round of golf and a couple hours outside the office. Dock me if you want.” I picked up the stack of documents. “I think if you checked though, you’d see I have a lot of unused vacation time—take the two hours out of there.” “I’m watching you,” he warned, turning on his heel, and storming out. The door slammed so hard the windows rattled.


I grinned at the door. “Watch away, David. Watch me walk away.”


I stretched over the desk, and punched the intercom button.


Miss Elliott answered, sounding more cautious than usual. “Mr. VanRyan?”


“I need a coffee, Miss Elliott.”


“Anything else, sir?”


“A few moments of your time.”


She drew in a stuttering breath. “Right away.”


I turned my chair back toward the window, and heaved a sigh. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do.


I hoped I wouldn’t fail. God help me—either way.

Following, I love this story

truly interesting

CHAPTER 6
KATHARINE


“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” I MURMURED into the phone, trying to remain calm. “I didn’t receive any other notice about this increase.”


“I know, Miss Elliott. We only received the instructions two days ago, which is why I’m calling to inform you of the change.”


I swallowed the lump in my throat. Four hundred dollars more a month. I needed to pay four hundred dollars more.


“Did you hear me, Miss Elliott?”


“I’m sorry—could you repeat what you said?”


“I said the new fee structure begins as of the first.”


I glanced at the calendar. That was two weeks away.


“Is this even legal?”


The woman on the phone sighed in understanding. “It’s a privately run home, Miss Elliott. One of the best in the city, but they also make their own rules. There are other places where you could see about moving your aunt—ones that are government run with fees set in place.”


“No,” I insisted. “I don’t want to do that. She’s so well cared-for and settled.”


“The staff is the best. There are other rooms, semi-private ones you could move her into.”


I rubbed my head in frustration. Those rooms didn’t have a garden view—or a space for Penny’s easels and art books. She would be so unhappy and lost. I had to keep her in her private room, no matter what. Mr. VanRyan walked in the office, staring at me. I hesitated before saying anything else, unsure if he would stop, but he kept walking, entered his office, and shut the door with a quiet click behind him. He didn’t acknowledge me, not that he ever did, unless it was to yell or curse, so I could only assume the strange call he had me make had been acceptable.


“Miss Elliott?”


“I apologize. I’m at work, and my boss came in.”


“Do you have any other questions?”


I wanted to scream at her and say, “Yes! How the hell am I supposed to come up with another four hundred dollars to give you?” but I knew it was useless. She worked in the accounting department; she didn’t make the decisions.


“Not at the moment.”


“You have our number.” “Yes, thank you.” I hung up. They certainly had my number.


I stared at my desk, my mind going a mile a minute. They paid me well here at Anderson Inc.—I was one of the highest salaried PAs because I worked for Mr. VanRyan. He was horrible to work for—his dislike of me obvious. However, I did it because it made me extra money, which all went to care for Penny Johnson.


I traced my finger along the worn edge of the blotter I kept on my desk. I already lived in the cheapest place I could find. I cut my own hair, bought my clothes at second-hand stores, and my diet consisted of ramen noodles and a lot of cheap peanut butter and jam. I splurged on nothing, using every opportunity to save a little. Coffee was free in the office, and there were always muffins and cookies around. The company paid for my cell phone, and in the warm weather, I walked to and from work, to save the bus fare. Every so often, I used the kitchen at the home to bake cookies with the residents and brought some in to work to share. It was my silent way to make up for the goodies I snagged. If an unexpected expense arose, there were days those cookies and muffins were all I could afford to eat. I checked to see if there were any in the break room before I left at night that I could put in the small freezer in my apartment.


I blinked away the tears that were building. How was I going to come up with another four hundred dollars a month? I already lived from paycheck to paycheck. I knew I couldn’t ask for a raise. I would have to get a second job, which meant I would have less time to spend with Penny.


The outer door opened and David came in, his face like thunder.


“Is he in yet?”


“Yes.”


“Is he with someone?” “No, sir.” I picked up the phone, surprised when Mr. VanRyan didn’t answer my buzz.


“Where was he?” he demanded.


“As I told you this morning, he didn’t tell me. He said it was personal, so it wasn’t my place to ask.”


He scowled at me, his beady eyes almost disappearing. “This is my company, young lady. Everything that happens here is my business. Next time you ask. Understand?”


I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t tell him to go Bleep himself. Instead, I nodded, relieved when he marched past me and slammed into Mr. VanRyan’s office.


I sighed. That door was slammed so often I had to get maintenance to rehang it almost every month. A few minutes later, David slammed back out, cursing under his breath. I watched him leave, an anxious sensation building in my stomach. If he was in a bad mood, it meant Mr. VanRyan would be in a bad mood. That meant only one thing: soon he’d be yelling at me for whatever mistake he thought I’d made today.


I hung my head. I hated my life. I hated being a PA. I especially hated being a PA for Mr. VanRyan. I had never known anyone so cruel. Nothing I did was ever enough—certainly not enough to warrant a thank you or a grudging smile. In fact, I was certain he had never smiled at me the entire year I’d worked for him. I could remember the day David summoned me to his office.

“Katy,”—he looked hard at me—“as you know, Lee Stevens is leaving. I am going to reassign you to another account rep—Richard VanRyan.”


“Oh.” I had heard horror stories of Richard VanRyan and his temper, and I was nervous. He went through PAs quickly. However, reassignment was better than no job. I had finally found a place for Penny where she was happy, and I didn’t want to take her out of it.


“The pay rate is higher than what you’re making now and that of the other PAs.” He quoted me a figure that seemed enormous, but the amount meant I could give Penny her own room.


Surely, Mr. VanRyan couldn’t be that bad.


How wrong I had been. He made my life hell, and I took it—because I had no other choice.


Not yet.


My intercom buzzed, and I steadied my nerves. “Mr. VanRyan?”


“I need a coffee, Miss Elliott.”


“Anything else, sir?”


“A few moments of your time.”


I shut my eyes, wondering what was about to happen. “Right away.” Carrying his coffee, I approached his office with trepidation. I knocked, entering only when he bade me to come in. I had made that mistake once and would never do it again. His biting remarks had stung for days over that infraction.


I made sure my hand didn’t shake as I placed his coffee in front of him and readied my notebook, waiting on his instructions.


“Sit down, Miss Elliott.”


My heart began to hammer. Had he finally convinced David to let him fire me? I knew he’d been trying since the first week I worked for him. I tried to keep my breathing even. I couldn’t lose this job. I needed it.


I sat down before my legs could give out and cleared my throat. “Is there a problem, Mr. VanRyan?”


He waved his finger in the space between us. “What we discuss in this office, I trust it remains confidential?”


“Yes, sir.”


He nodded and reached for his mug, sipping the beverage in silence.


“I need to speak with you on a personal matter.”


I was confused. He never spoke to me about anything unless it was to shout out his demands.


“All right?”


He glanced around, looking uncharacteristically nervous. I took a moment to study him as he gathered his thoughts. He was ridiculously handsome. Well over six feet tall, his shoulders were broad, his waist trim—he was the poster child for how to make a suit look good. He was clean-shaven most of the time; although on occasion, like today, his jaw bore a day or two’s growth, which highlighted his strong profile. He kept his light brown hair short on the sides, but longer on top, and had a cowlick, causing one patch to fall over his forehead. An imperfection, which only made him more perfect. He yanked on it when he was agitated, which was how he acted at this moment. His mouth was wide, his teeth bright white, and his lips were so full I knew many women envied them. His hazel eyes lifted to mine, and he straightened his shoulders, once again in control.


“I need to ask something of you. In doing so, I will be placing a huge amount of trust in your discretion. I need to know you will honor my trust.”


I blinked at him. He wanted to ask me something? He wasn’t firing me? A small shudder of relief flowed through me; my body relaxed a little.

“Of course, sir. Whatever I can do.”


His eyes locked on mine. I had never noticed how the colors swirled in his eyes under the lights—a mixture of gray, green, and blue. Often they were so dark with anger, I never held his gaze for more than a second or two. He seemed to study me for a moment, then nodded.


He reached for one of his cards and wrote something on the back, handing it to me.


“I need you to come to this address this evening. Can you be there at seven?”


I glanced at the card, noting the address wasn’t far from the home where I would visit Penny after work. To get there by seven, however, my stay would have to be short.


“Is there a problem?” he asked, his voice void of the usual hostility.


I lifted my gaze to his and decided to be honest. “I have an appointment after work. I’m not sure I can make it for seven.”


I expected his ire. For him to sweep his hand in the air, and demand I cancel whatever plans I had and be where he needed me to be at seven. I was shocked when he only shrugged.


“Seven-thirty? Eight? Can you work with that?”


“Seven-thirty would be doable.”


“Fine. I’ll see you at seven-thirty.” He rose to his feet, indicating this strange meeting was over. “I’ll make sure my doorman knows you’ll be arriving. He’ll send you up right away.”


It was all I could do not to gasp. His doorman? He was asking me to his home?


I stood up, disconcerted. “Mr. VanRyan, is everything all right?”


He regarded me with a strange look on his face. “With your cooperation, it will be, Miss Elliott.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, excuse me, I have a one o’clock meeting to attend.”


He picked up his mug. “Thank you for the coffee and your time.”


He left me staring after him, wondering if I had entered an alternate universe.


Never once in the year I worked for him had he ever said thank you to me.


What the hell was going on?

seems I'll pitch my tent here
hope the ride will be smooth
adesina12
pinkfeet
isod
ann2012
Queenite
come n check out this thread

favch:
seems I'll pitch my tent here
hope the ride will be smooth
adesina12
pinkfeet
isod
ann2012
Queenite
come n check out this thread

Join u soon
Thanx for the mention
Sweet popcorn for you

Adesina12:

Join u soon Thanx for the mention Sweet popcorn for you

uwc dear I'll definitely need d �, thanks again

My night is made! Thanks OP for the update

CHAPTER 7
I STOOD ACROSS THE STREET from Mr. VanRyan’s building, staring up at the tall structure. It was intimidating and spoke of wealth—all tinted glass and concrete looming over the city, reminding me of the man who lived within it. Cold, remote, unreachable. I shivered a little as I looked at it, wondering why I was there.


The building was about a ten-minute walk from the home, and I was on time. It hadn’t been a good visit with Penny today; she had been upset and agitated, refusing to eat or talk to me, and I ended up leaving early. I was disappointed. She had been good all week, and I had hoped today would be the same; that I’d be able to talk with her as we used to, but it hadn’t happened. Instead, it just added to my stressful, odd day. I left the home feeling despondent, and unsure as to why I was going to see Mr. VanRyan.


Mr. VanRyan.


He had already confused me asking me to his home this evening. His behavior the rest of the afternoon proved to be equally bizarre. When he returned from his meeting, he asked me for another coffee and a sandwich.


Asked me!


He didn’t demand, he didn’t sneer or slam his door. Instead, he stopped in front of my desk and politely requested lunch. He even said thank you. Again. He hadn’t come out of his office the rest of the day until he left, when he stopped, asking if I had his card. At my murmured, “Yes,” he nodded his thanks and left, not slamming the door. I was beyond puzzled, nerves taut, and my stomach in knots. I had no idea what I was doing at his home, much less why.


I inhaled a calming breath. There was only one way to find out. I straightened my shoulders, and crossed the street.


Mr. VanRyan opened his door, and I tried not to stare. I had never seen him look this casual. Gone was the tailored suit and crisp white shirt he favored. In its place, he wore a long-sleeved, thermal shirt and jeans, and his feet were bare. For some reason, I wanted to giggle at his long toes, but I tamped down the odd reaction. He indicated for me to come in, stepped back, allowing me to pass. He took my coat, and we stood staring at each other. I’d never seen him look uncomfortable. He gripped the back of his neck, clearing his throat.


“I’m eating dinner. Would you join me?”


“I’m fine,” I lied. I was starving.


He grimaced. “I doubt that.” “I beg your pardon?”


“You’re too skinny. You need to eat more.”


Before I could say anything, he grasped my elbow and led me to the high counter separating the kitchen from the living space. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the high, padded stools.


Knowing better than to argue with him, I did. As he moved into the kitchen, I looked around at the enormous, open space. Dark wood floors, two large, chocolate brown leather sofas, and white walls highlighted the vastness of the room. The walls were undecorated, aside from a massive TV hung over the fireplace—no personal photos or knickknacks. Even the furniture was bare—no cushions or throw blanket anywhere. Despite its grandeur, the room was cold, impersonal. Like the set of a magazine spread, it was well appointed and pristine, with nothing giving a clue about the man who lived in it. I glimpsed a long hallway and a set of elegant stairs that I assumed led to the bedrooms. I turned back to the kitchen—it was similar in style and impression, dark and light combined, and void of personal touches.


I repressed a shiver.


Mr. VanRyan set a plate in front of me, and with a smirk, opened the lid on a pizza box. I felt a smile tug on my lips.


“This is dinner?”


Somehow, it seemed too normal for him. I hadn’t had a slice of pizza in ages; my mouth watered looking at it.


He shrugged. “I usually eat out, but I felt like pizza tonight.” He lifted out a slice and slid it on my plate. “Eat.”


Too hungry to argue, I ate in silence, keeping my eyes on my plate, hoping my nerves wouldn’t get the best of me. He ate steadily, devouring the rest of the pizza, aside from a second slice he put on my plate. I didn’t object to it or the glass of wine he pushed in my direction. Instead, I sipped it, enjoying the smoothness of the deep red merlot. It had been a long time since I had tasted such a good wine.


When we finished our strange meal, he stood, discarding the pizza box, returning fast. He picked up his wine, drained his glass, and paced for a few minutes.


Finally, he stood in front of me. “Miss Elliott, I will reiterate from earlier today. What I’m about to share with you is personal.”

I nodded, unsure what to say.


He tilted his head to the side and studied me; I had no doubt he found me lacking in every way. Still, he continued.


“I’m leaving Anderson Inc.”


My jaw dropped. Why would he leave the company? He was one of David’s golden boys—he could do no wrong. David bragged about Mr. VanRyan’s talent and what he brought to the company all the time.


“Why?”


“I was passed up for partner.”


“Maybe next time . . .” I stopped talking when I realized what this meant. If he left and they chose not to reassign me, I was out of a job. Even if they did reassign me, I would be taking a pay cut. Either way, I was screwed. I could feel the blood draining from my face.


Mr. VanRyan held up his hand. “There won’t be a next time. I have an opportunity I’m exploring.”


“Why are you telling me this?” I managed to ask.


“I need your help with this opportunity.”


I swallowed. “My help?” I was even more confused. He never wanted my personal help.


He stepped closer. “I want to hire you, Miss Elliott.” My mind raced. I was sure, if he moved on, he would want a clean break. He didn’t even like me. I cleared my throat. “As your assistant at your new opportunity?”


“No.” He paused, as if thinking about his words, then spoke. “As my fiancée.”


All I could do was to stare at him, unmoving.

RICHARD


Miss Elliott gaped at me, motionless. Slowly, she slid off the stool, facing me, her gaze flitting around the room. “Do you think this is funny?” she hissed, her voice shaking. “I’m not sure what kind of a prank this is, Mr. VanRyan, but I assure you, it’s not amusing.”


She marched past me, grabbing her coat and purse from the sofa, whirling back around. “Are you taping this so you can watch it later? Laugh over it?” A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away, the movement jerky and angry. “Isn’t it enough you treat me like shit during the day, now you want to have fun after hours, as well?”


She stormed toward the door, and I recovered from the shock of her angry outburst quick enough to rush forward and prevent her from leaving. I leaned over her, pushing the door shut.


“Miss Elliott . . . Katharine . . . please. I assure you, it’s no joke. Hear me out.” She was so close I could feel her body trembling. I had thought about her reactions but hadn’t considered anger. “Please,” I coaxed again. “Listen to what I have to say.”


Her shoulders sagged and she nodded, allowing me to draw her away from the door and over to the sofa. I sat down opposite her and indicated she should, as well. She did warily, and it took all I had not to snap at her and tell her not to look like a frightened rabbit. What did she think I was going to do to her? Her words echoed in my head. “Isn’t it enough you treat me like shit during the day, now you want to have fun after hours, as well?”


I shifted a little in my chair—I supposed I deserved her wariness.


I cleared my throat. “As I said, I’m planning on leaving Anderson Inc. The company I’m hoping to move on to is vastly different from the way David runs his company. They value their employees—to them family and integrity are paramount.”


Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything.


“In order to even get my foot in the door, I had to convince them I wasn’t the person they think I am.”


“Which is?”


“Arrogant, selfish.” I sucked in a long breath. “A tyrant at work and a playboy after hours.” She tilted her head; her voice was quiet and firm. “Pardon my bluntness, Mr. VanRyan—you are exactly that.”


“I’m aware.” I stood and paced a little. “I’m also good at my job and tired of being shit on by David.” I sat back down. “I felt something talking to Graham—something I haven’t felt in a long time: excitement at the thought of a new campaign. Inspired.”


She gaped at me. “Graham Gavin? You want to go work for The Gavin Group?”


“Yes.”


“They rarely hire.”


“There is an opening. I want it.”


“I still don’t understand where I come in.”


“Graham Gavin will not hire someone unless he feels they fit in with the image he has: family first.” I leaned forward. “I had to convince him I’m not the playboy he heard about. I told him I’m leaving Anderson Inc. She tilted her head; her voice was quiet and firm. “Pardon my bluntness, Mr. VanRyan—you are exactly that.”


“I’m aware.” I stood and paced a little. “I’m also good at my job and tired of being shit on by David.” I sat back down. “I felt something talking to Graham—something I haven’t felt in a long time: excitement at the thought of a new campaign. Inspired.”


She gaped at me. “Graham Gavin? You want to go work for The Gavin Group?”


“Yes.”


“They rarely hire.”


“There is an opening. I want it.”


“I still don’t understand where I come in.”


“Graham Gavin will not hire someone unless he feels they fit in with the image he has: family first.” I leaned forward. “I had to convince him I’m not the playboy he heard about. I told him I’m leaving Anderson Inc.She tilted her head; her voice was quiet and firm. “Pardon my bluntness, Mr. VanRyan—you are exactly that.”


“I’m aware.” I stood and paced a little. “I’m also good at my job and tired of being shit on by David.” I sat back down. “I felt something talking to Graham—something I haven’t felt in a long time: excitement at the thought of a new campaign. Inspired.”


She gaped at me. “Graham Gavin? You want to go work for The Gavin Group?”


“Yes.”


“They rarely hire.”


“There is an opening. I want it.”


“I still don’t understand where I come in.”


“Graham Gavin will not hire someone unless he feels they fit in with the image he has: family first.” I leaned forward. “I had to convince him I’m not the playboy he heard about. I told him I’m leaving Anderson Inc.because I fell in love and want a different way of life.”


“With who?”


I reclined against the cushions. “You.”


Her eyes widened to the point of hilarity, her mouth opened and closed, with no sound coming out. Finally she spoke. “Why–why would you do that?”


“It was pointed out to me that you were the exact kind of person to convince Graham Gavin I had changed. When I thought about it, I realized that person was right.”


She shook her head. “You don’t even like me.” She swallowed. “I’m not overly fond of you, either.”


I had to chuckle at her politeness. “We can work around that issue.”


“What are you proposing?”


“Simple. One way or another, I’m out of Anderson Inc. You’ll have to leave, too.” Immediately, she began shaking her head furiously. “I can’t afford to leave, Mr. VanRyan. So my answer is no.”


I held up my hand. “Hear me out. I will pay you to do this. You will have to give up your job, as well as your apartment and come live here with me. I’ll pay you a salary plus all your expenses for however long this takes.”


“Why would I have to live here?”


“I may have indicated to Graham we live together.”


“You did what?”


“It made sense when he asked. I didn’t plan it—it happened. Now back to my offer.”


“What would you expect me to do?”


I tapped my fingers on the arm of the sofa, contemplating. I should have thought this through more.


“Live here, appear at any function I go to as my fiancée, present yourself as such at all times.” I shrugged. “I haven’t thought it all through yet, Miss Elliott. We’ll have to figure it out. Set some ground rules; get to know each other so we can actually pass as a couple.” I shifted forward, resting my arms on my thighs. “And this has to happen fast. I’m supposed to take you to a function this weekend.”


“This weekend?” she squeaked out.


“Yes. You don’t have to be living here by then, but we need to get our stories straight and at least know the basics. We have to seem close—comfortable with each other.”


“Maybe you should start by not calling me Miss Elliott.”


I laughed dryly. “I suppose it would seem odd . . . Katharine.”


She didn’t say anything, dropping her gaze to her lap, her fingers playing with a loose thread on her shirt.


“I’ll buy you a new wardrobe, and make sure you have spending money. You won’t want for anything if you agree to this arrangement.”


She lifted her chin. I had never noticed the stubborn little cleft in it until now. “What would you pay me?”


“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars a month. If the charade lasts longer than six months, I’ll double it.” I smirked. “If we do have to get married, I’ll pay you a bonus. When we can divorce, I’ll make sure you get a good settlement and handle all the details. You’ll be set for life.”


“Married?”


“I have no idea how much time it will take to convince Graham so my cover isn’t blown. It could be two months or three. I can’t see it being more than six. If I think it’s needed, I’ll marry you at city hall and we’ll end it when we can.”


She clasped her hands, her pale face now a ghostly white. Indecision and shock etched all over her expression.


“Chances are,” I spoke in a quiet voice, “even if I don’t go to The Gavin Group, when I leave Anderson Inc., David will fire you anyway. If I do get the job there, he will for sure. He’ll be convinced you knew of my plans somehow. I know how his mind works.”


“Why can’t you get someone else?”


“I don’t know anyone else. The kind of women I usually date won’t . . . They aren’t the right fit.”


“And I am? Why?”


“You want me to be honest?”


“Yes.”


“You’re practical, sensible . . . plain. I have to admit there’s a warmth about you people seem drawn to. I don’t see it myself, but it’s obviously there. The fact you’re my assistant is the perfect cover for me leaving. I could never date you and stay at Anderson Inc. Not that I ever would under normal circumstances.”


Hurt flashed across her face, and I shrugged.


“You said to be honest.”


She didn’t respond to my statement, except to say, “I’m not sure how you expect to pull this off when you dislike me so much.”


“Katharine, do you think I like most of the people I work with—or the clients I deal with? I don’t. Most of them I can’t stand. I smile and joke, shake hands and act as though I’m interested. I’ll treat our relationship the same way. It’s business. I can do that.” I paused and lifted my chin. “Can you?”


She didn’t speak, and I kept going.


“All of this rides on you. I’ve placed a great deal of trust in you right now. You could run to David tomorrow, or even Graham, and blow this entire idea for me— but I hope you won’t. Think about the money and what it could do for you. A few months of your time, for what I’ll pay you, is more than you’ll make all year. In fact, I’ll guarantee you sixty grand. Six months. Even if we part ways after three. It has to be twice what you make in a year.”

“And all I have to do is . . .”


“. . . is act as though you love me.”


She fixed me with a look, which said everything she didn’t want to express. “Do I get this in writing?”


“Yes. We’ll both sign a confidentiality agreement. I’ll pay you twenty grand up front. You’ll get the rest at the end of each month. In addition, I’ll open an account for you to use for expenses. Clothes, any incidentals; that sort of thing. I expect you to dress the part, as well as act it.”


She studied me for a moment. “I need to think about this.”


“You can’t think long. If you agree, you need clothes for Saturday, and we need to spend some time together getting to know each other.”


“If I don’t agree?”


“I’ll tell Graham you’re ill and can’t make it. Then hope he gives me a chance to prove myself and hires me regardless.”


“And if not?”


“I’ll leave Victoria, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here, and I’m asking you to help me.”


She stood up. “I have to go.”


I rose to my feet, looking down—she barely reached my chest. “I need your answer soon.”


“I know.”


“Where are you parked?”


She blinked at me. “I don’t have a car, Mr. VanRyan. I walked here.”


“It’s too late for you to be out on your own. I’ll get Henry to call you a cab.” “I can’t afford a cab.”


“I’ll pay for it,” I huffed. “I don’t want you walking. Can you drive? Do you know how?”


“Yes, I just can’t afford to own a car.”


“I’ll get you one. If you agree to do this arrangement, I’ll buy you a car. You can keep it. Think of it as a signing bonus.”


She bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to think about any of this.”


“Think of it as an opportunity. A lucrative one.” I flashed a grin. “A deal with the devil, if you want.”


She only arched her eyebrow. “Good night, Mr. VanRyan.”


“Richard.”


“What?”


“If I can’t call you Miss Elliott, you can’t call me Mr. VanRyan, either. My name is Richard. You’ll have to get used to saying it.”


“Maybe I’ll call you something else entirely.”


I could imagine what she called me to herself. I could think of several names that would be appropriate.


“We’ll speak in the morning.”


With a nod, she left. I called down to Henry, telling him to get her a cab and put it on my account. I got myself a scotch and sat down on the sofa, frustrated. Earlier, when I spoke, I made the snap decision to make Miss Elliott my fiancée rather than merely my girlfriend. It made my decision to leave Anderson Inc. all that more solid. It showed I was serious and ready for real commitment—something I felt Graham would value. It didn’t matter to me one way or another—girlfriend or fiancée—but to someone like Graham, it would. Girlfriend said temporary, replaceable. Fiancée implied permanency and trust. I was certain he would react favorably to that title.


I yanked on my cowlick in apprehension, and downed the scotch in one swallow. I had hoped to get an answer from her right away; however, it became apparent I wasn’t going to get it. So now, Miss Elliott, the woman I disliked, and from all accounts, felt the same way about me, held my future in her hands. It was an odd feeling.


I didn’t like it.


I sank into the cushion of the sofa as my head fell back, my mind drifting. My phone beeping startled me, and I realized I’d nodded off. I picked up the phone, glancing at the two words on the screen.


I accept.


With a smirk, I tossed my phone on the table.


My plan was full steam ahead.