“But it is, I’m afraid. I’ve been known to lose my head when I’ve had too much to drink,” I explain. “All kinds of women throw themselves at me, trying to get the chance at becoming the next Mrs. James Douglass. I’ll need you to make sure I don’t get into sticky situations that are hard to get out of.”
“So you’re saying you literally can’t beat them off with a stick, huh?” I grin at her, impressed by her wit. “I still don’t get why you’ll need a pretend fiancée for that. Why not just a regular date? Or a bodyguard?”
“These women could be…determined. They won’t be discouraged by just a girlfriend, and I’m tired of politely rebuffing their advances. It’s honestly much easier to say I’m engaged, and that’s exactly what Jessica used to do for me.” I look at her, confused why I even need to convince her to do this. “Okay, look, you like to negotiate. How about this, you do as I ask, and you’ll earn a raise.”
“That makes me sound an awful lot like a whore.” Yet she says it with a polite smile, a smile so simple that it confuses me and tightens the muscles in my belly.
“Who said anything about sex? It’ll be in name only.”
She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up, emphasizing that delicious, oh-so-lickable cleavage. “If I’m going to be your pretend fiancée, I’ll need a diamond engagement ring, won’t I?”
She’s naughty as hell. “I suppose.”
“And you, because you’re a hotshot billionaire, wouldn’t get some cheap imitation. Not for the woman you choose to marry.” Now I see the devilish glee in her eyes. She’s manipulating me and damn if she’s not good at it. I can’t do anything but back down or put something else on the table. “So, get me a ring—which I get to keep.”
“You’re an expensive date.”
“Better than a cheap whore. If you want something easy, put out a Craigslist ad.” She turns around, getting all the way to the door before I stand up.
I cross the room and slam my hand on the door, keeping it shut. Her body is almost against mine. I feel heat rolling off her. “I’m your boss, Claire. I expect to be treated as such.”
She turns slowly, looking up at me with guarded eyes, her back flat against the door. It takes so much effort to keep my hand on the door and not wrap it around her neck, just to remind her who is in charge. Such a bratty, spoiled little girl.
“I’ll buy you the fucking ring, but you’re going to play the part of my fiancée perfectly. Your eyes better be on me and only me.”
“Or what?” A hiss.
I swallow my lust, as if it will soften my cock. I want toshowher the punishment, not tell her. I take a deep breath, inhaling her floral perfume before meeting her eyes again. “You don’t want to know, but it will start with returning themodestring.”
She stares at me a moment longer. I practically feel her simmering. “When is the party…Mr. Douglass?”
“Tomorrow night. I’m giving you an hour, on the clock, to go get a dress that can be approved by Jessica. I’ll be picking you up.”
“I’m perfectly capable of driving.” Another challenge.
I let the silence draw out, then lean toward her. Our chests are almost touching. One deep breath, and I’d have my first feel of her body on mine. “I will pick you up. Be ready by seven.”
Her lips purse and her cheeks go a little red. It’s not from flattery though. I know I’ve frustrated her. Still, she nods and tries the door again. I hold it and arch my eyebrow, leaning my head to the side in anticipation of her answer.
She groans. “Yes. I’ll be ready. Congrats, you bought a fiancée.”
An hour later, Jessica relays her approval of Claire’s dress. I don’t miss the frustrated glare that Claire gives me when it’s time to leave for the week. She turns around and tosses her hair back over her shoulders. It dangles right above her ass. The same ass thatseriouslyneeds to be thoroughly spanked.
I smirk at the thought of putting her in her place, of getting her sweet, obedient side—the side I know is lurking under all those layers of sass.
Tomorrow night will be fun.
* * *
Ipick her up and watch her slide into the car. Four-inch heels make her legs stunning and the dress only enhances her natural beauty. She looks mature, elegant, ever so fuckable. As she sits, the dress reveals the creamy skin of her thigh, nearly up to her underwear. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go white. I want to slide my hand over her thigh and dig my fingers in, pry her legs apart until I can bury my fingers into her pussy and bring her to the edge so she’s trembling and wet at the gala.
But I can’t. I won’t. I’ll just squeeze the steering wheel until it hurts.
“First event like this?” I ask instead, trying so hard to ignore my body.
“Something like that.” She chews her lip.
For some reason, that gets my attention. A lot of girls do it, but in this lighting, it seems strangely familiar.Sheseems familiar. No. I shake my head. It’s not even possible. My luck can’t be that bad.