It was crazy to be attracted to someone she barely knew, other than over the phone or through email. On the other hand, she knew very nearly everything about her demanding boss, because it was her job to ensure his day went smoothly no matter where he was in the world, or where she was located.
She was the one who arranged his traveling itinerary and selected hotels. It was up to her to call and speak to the concierge service to ensure they had his preferred brand of bottled water and assortment of fruit and nuts on hand for when he was ready to snack.
She was the one who kept track of his bills and paid them, reordered his toiletries and forwarded them to various hotels as needed, and kept his penthouse apartment ready for his occupation at any moment, should he jet through New York on his way to some other international destination so he could drive around at breakneck speeds and try to kill himself before the other drivers on the circuit did the same.
“We’re here, miss.”
Startled from her reverie, she reached into her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill for the driver. It was an exorbitant fee, but it was a long way from her apartment on the Lower East Side, and she reminded herself there was a bonus in her future to pad the expense. For that matter, she could simply submit the receipt to petty cash as a business expense the next day. With that thought in mind, she added another twenty dollars, deciding Mr. Blackwell—Connor, at least for tonight—could be a big tipper.
She flashed the driver a smile as she got out, taking one more chance to adjust her dress before she walked up the marble stairs and tapped on the ornate wooden door. It was only after she had done so that she saw the doorbell, but when the door opened a moment later, the uniformed butler-type didn’t seem bothered by the fact that she had knocked rather than rang the bell. He simply bowed to her at the waist and cocked a thin eyebrow. “Good evening. Do you have an invitation?”
“I’m with Connor,” she said with what she hoped was a confident smile.
The butler frowned slightly. “I see. Will you wait here for a moment, miss?”
She shifted impatiently on the too-high heels as she waited for the butler’s return, presumably with Connor, or at least his okay to let her in. There was a slight chill in the early May air, and she wished she had taken time to grab a shrug on her way out. She’d skipped it because she didn’t really have anything dressy to match this kind of party, but now she regretted not taking anything, even if it had stood out amid the glitterati.
Fortunately, the butler opened the door for her a moment later, allowing her to walk inside. “Thank you for allowing me entry,” she said with only the slightest hint of irony as she stepped into the opulent home.
She had barely felt the breeze of the door closing behind her before Connor appeared, putting his arm around her waist to draw her close to him. She stiffened at the familiar touch, trying to pull away. “Let go of me,” she hissed at him.
“Play along, and I’ll pay you triple your annual salary, and I’ll cover the taxes. I’ll give it to you in cash tonight, after this party.” He had whispered the words in her ear in what probably appeared to be a tender gesture from anyone observing them.
She quickly realized someone was definitely observing them as she looked around him to see an older man who bore a striking resemblance to Connor, flanked by a pale woman. With her silvery blonde hair, ivory complexion, and large silver eyes, she should have been an ethereal beauty. She probably would have been if she hadn’t been giving Angelina the stink-eye. As soon as the other woman realized she was looking at her, the expression changed to one of welcome, though there was no warmth behind the smile.
Feeling frozen, she sort of shuffled along when Connor stepped back from her, his arm remaining around her waist as he steered her toward the older man and the cold angel beside him.
“Dad, this is Angelina. She’s my assistant, and I couldn’t live without her.”
She gasped, and the other woman echoed the sound when he lifted her hand to his mouth to brush his lips against her knuckles. What the hell was Blackwell up to? She glared at him with her eyes, though struggled to find a more pleasant expression when she looked at his father. “How do you do, Mr. Blackwell?”
The older man gave her an appraising look before nodding. “Call me William.” He turned his gaze back to his son. “She’s definitely not one of your cheap girls that usually hang on you, son. Looks like you did a fine job.”
“Fine job of what?” she asked, eyes focusing on Connor. From the intensity of her gaze, she would bet he felt like a bug pinned to the wall at that moment.
“Selecting a fiancée,” said William before Connor could reply.
She actually dropped her evening bag in her shock as she turned to look at the older man. “What?” she asked in almost a screeching tone. “I’m not his fiancée.”
Suddenly, before she could say anything more, Connor had pulled her into his arms completely, and his mouth slanted over hers. The kiss broke her concentration as passion stirred to life. Words fled her when his fingers threaded through her kinky curls, which she hadn’t bothered taking time to straighten in her rush out the door.
He held her tightly against him, and his mouth ravaged hers, his tongue slipping between her lips to taste her mouth and turn her insides to goo. She moaned again, pressing her hands to his chest in a feeble attempt to escape. Instead, her treacherous hands simply grasped his lapels and tried to drag Connor closer.
When he lifted his head a moment later, she was dazed and confused, having a difficult time remembering what they were discussing before he had kissed her so abruptly. And why had he kissed her?
“We aren’t engaged yet, Dad, and thanks for blowing the surprise.” He sounded genuinely annoyed with his father.
She turned her dazed eyes to her employer, silently begging for an explanation.
“I was saving this for later, but since Dad has ruined the surprise, I might as well do it now.”
“Do what?” she asked through lips that felt slightly bruised and plumped from his possessive kiss. Why had he kissed her? Why was he… Oh no, he’s wasn’t…was he? He absolutely was. The crazy man in front of her was getting down on one knee and holding out a ring.
She stared at it with shock and horror before transferring her gaze to his. His eyes were pleading with her, and she remembered how he’d implored her to go along with events in exchange for triple her salary. She absolutely couldn’t do that, could she? It was completely unethical to consider doing such a thing.
“The last two years with you have been amazing, Angelina. It’s your voice I hear in my ear before I get ready to race, and you’ve made such a difference in my life. I can’t imagine living without you. Will you marry me?”
She opened her mouth, prepared to snap a furious no, and shocked herself by whispering, “Yes?” in a questioning tone instead. She wanted to pretend like it was the money that had swayed her, because goodness knows old-fashioned greed was a much more sensible motivator than being unable to deny the pleading in his gaze as he had silently asked her to say yes.
She was a weak fool, no doubt the world’s biggest sucker, but she couldn’t help a small shiver of delight as he slid the ring onto her left ring finger. It was a perfect fit, as though the universe was trying to send her a message.
Chapter Three
That message was he was insane. She came to that conclusion all on her own as the evening progressed. She was being quiet and watchful, trying to glean as many details as she could without revealing too much, but when she heard Connor calmly agree to hold the wedding in this house in a month’s time, she quickly lost her ability to be quiet and watchful.
Through gritted teeth, she took his hand and led him away from his father and that Brenda woman, who watched her with suspicious eyes. The party was in full swing, and it wasn’t strange for them to slip onto the dance floor. She cuddled close to him, denying the thrill that shot through her at the feel of his body against hers, and wrapped her arms aroun
d his neck. She was certain she looked like she was stretching on her tip tiptoes, despite her high heels, in order to brush her lips against his cheek.
In reality, she was using the opportunity to whisper furiously close to his ear. “What the hell is going on here? And what are you up to? You told me to go along, but we’re not getting married.”