Fake Love Rich Boss Series

by Peterson , Sloane

  I lose myself in typing, the only sound in the office is the clicking of my fingers against the keyboard. I’m pulled from my train of thought when the door opens behind me, I turn around to just see Oliver.

  “The others decided to call it a day. Said something about it being too much of an emotional toll,” he rolled his eyes; I can tell he doesn’t buy it.

  “And you?” I asked.

  “It’s my job,” he tells me. “I don’t get to just take a break because I want to.”

  He comes around, taking a seat in the desk chair that his stepmother had previously occupied. He extends his arm to me, a takeout box in hand.

  “Eat. You need food too.”

  “I told you I’d get something later.”

  “I didn’t believe you.”

  I save what I was working on on my laptop and stuff it back into its bag.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  “Don’t mention it,” Oliver said shaking his head. “I stopped by my lawyer’s office on the way back. I have the NDA for you to sign.”

  There I was, thinking we were actually getting somewhere. Instead, it all came back down to business. I don’t expect to become best friends with Oliver, or any of the Windsors over the course of working together, but I’d like to keep things friendly between us and not just have a strictly business type of relationship. It usually makes it easier for them to open up to me about things. I brush it off, sitting back in my chair.

  “I’ll sign it after I eat,” I said.

  I open the container that Oliver had handed me. I don’t say another word before I take a bite. As soon as I swallow, I realize that this is the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life.

  “Amazing,” I sighed contently.

  Oliver looks at me and he appears to be amused. It’s a total one-eighty from the stress and annoyance that had been imprinted on his features since we’ve met. I can’t help but question what has him so happy.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked after another bite of the sandwich.

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.

  “No. Tell me.” I put the container down on the desk, next to my laptop, as I wait for his answer.

  “When you first took a bite, you did kind of a dance-sway thing. It was amusing.”

  My nose wrinkles, “I did?” I hadn’t even realized it.

  “You did. Girls usually do that when they like the food they’re eating. It’s amusing.”

  I don’t know if I should be offended over the fact that he found me ‘amusing’ or not, but I’m going to go with not. Our relationship will never get anywhere if we continuously find something to argue over. I finish my sandwich and fries, making sure to eat every bite of the delicious food. I toss the empty container into the trash can by his desk before we settle back down to business.

  “I won’t be going home until tomorrow afternoon,” I tell him. “We need to hold this conference tomorrow morning, like we have planned, and I need to be the one to present it.”

  “I’ll book your ticket,” he said. “What else do you need from us?”

  “A lot. We still need to flesh out this statement. We can’t dismiss the crime, but we need the public to know that Alan is innocent and as a family, you all stand behind him. After that, I’m sure there will be questions and if we run away from the questions, it’ll look even worse. I should probably prep you for those.”

  “Luckily for you,” Oliver smirked at me, “I have no meetings planned for the rest of the day because either nobody wants to do business with Alan’s son, or nobody wants to do business with the company of a murderer. I’ve heard both today.”

  I have to admit that I feel bad for him. Oliver was thrust into this position of power with no prior knowledge of how to run things, so of course people aren’t going to respect him in the business world. He is going to have to figure out how to run this thing from the ground up, all I can do is make sure it doesn’t go under.

  “Well, hopefully that’ll change tomorrow,” I said before going straight into the question prep. “They’re going to ask things like, ‘Oliver, do you believe your father is guilty?’ You will answer...”

  “No.”

  “Good. Don’t elaborate on that answer. A simple ‘no’ is what you need to tell them. Anything else opens up the line for more questions and gives you the opportunity to get caught in a lie. Now, I’m sure you’ll get hit with a bunch of questions about the business. I checked over my lunch break and the stock for Windsor is dropping, any idea how you will respond?”

  Oliver runs a hand through his hair, freshly messing up the blonde locks that I assume he had fixed during lunch.

  “I didn’t even know the stock was falling,” he admitted, sounding defeated.

  “You tell them that it’s just a small hiccup, that everything at Windsor Books is running smoothly, that you have a good idea of what you’re doing. You lie, I’m sure you know how to do that.”

  “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Instead, Oliver just huffed and turned to look out the window. I can’t help but find myself smiling at his ridiculous behavior, so I move on to my next question.

  “How much do you know about the company? Truthfully.”

  “Not as much as I should, I guess. I was just kind of handed everything. There’s some paperwork...but I don’t know much,” he admitted quietly. I think he’s ashamed to say it out loud. I get it, I do. He’s been left a mess to clean up, the last thing he likely wants to acknowledge is he doesn’t know what’s going on.

  “All right. Then tonight, I want you to read all of the paperwork available to you. I want you to cram like you’re studying for a final...” I paused, “Did you go to college?”

  “I went to Columbia.”

  Of course, he went to an Ivy League school. I don’t know why I expected otherwise. “And what did you major in?”

  “Business management.”

  “You majored in business management, but you have no idea how to run a business?” I scoffed, clearly full of disbelief. “Or is it that you’ve never had to apply what you learned in school to your life before?”

  His silence tells me it’s the latter.

  “Whatever. You’re going to put that degree to good use, got it? You’re going to go through the paperwork, ask questions and learn. Because our next steps require you to be a good leader. I need to know if Windsor has a book launch coming up anytime soon.”

  “Probably, but why?” he asked.

  “Because we’re going to push up that launch,” I said. “We’re going to get that book out there and hopefully it’s one that makes people talk. Got it? It’s a distraction while we run things behind the scenes.”

  “If the author still wants to work with us...” Oliver trailed off.

  I curse underneath my breath. That wasn’t a problem I had thought about. I knew business partners would bounce, but would authors really switch to another company? Well, good press is everything.

  “Right. So, we’ll issue a statement privately to our authors tomorrow as well. We’ll let them know that while there may be a hitch with Windsor Books right now, everything is under control. Alan is innocent and we’re on our way to proving that. We need their support, just like we’ve supported them over the years. Something like that.”

  The more I talk to Oliver, the more problems come up. I keep trying to stay one step ahead but then something else gets revealed and I get pushed five steps back. It’s exhausting. I look up to see Oliver’s face, and I can’t read it. That shouldn’t come as a surprise, I hardly know this man. But for some reason, it does. Finally, he speaks.

  “Are you sure you can handle this?”

  “You didn’t doubt my ability to handle this when you hired me,” I retorted.

  “When I hired you, I didn’t know how many problems we would be facing. I’m clearly not a PR expert. I didn’t realize it was going to be this much. We could hire
you an assistant...”

  I hold my hand up and cut him off.

  “No. No help. I’ve got this. I just need to really see where we’re at. After tomorrow, I should have a clear idea of what we need to work on. We’ll issue a statement to the press and we’ll record you issuing a private statement to authors.”

  “Why do I have to issue it?” he asked.

  “Because you’re the acting CEO of Windsor. They’ll want a familiar face, not some random woman reading some emotionless statement to them.”

  I really do have my work cut out for me. I settle back into the chair in Oliver’s office, using it as my own for the day. We work in silence together. Occasionally, I hear him curse under his breath and I look up. When I do, Oliver looks unbelievably stressed. His hands rake through his blonde hair, turning it into an utter mess. He sorts through paperwork on the desk, sighs, throws open file drawers. I don’t know what he’s doing, and the truth is, I don’t think he does either.

  “What are you even trying to do?” I asked in a snarky tone.

  He looks over at me.

  “I don’t actually know - if we’re being honest. I just...I thought I could help and compile a list of authors and agents that we need to email the message to, but I don’t even know where any of that is stored.”

  “Couldn’t you ask Joan?”

  “I’ve asked her so much. I don’t even know what my father does other than act like a figurehead. I don’t want to ask questions. I don’t want to seem entirely useless. I just...” he trailed off.

  “You want to fall into this effortlessly, like it’s what you were born to do.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s natural.”

  I save the statement I was writing on my laptop before standing up and placing it on the edge of his desk again. I walk around the desk to where Oliver is sitting. I stand right behind him, leaning forward to scan my eyes over the desk and then turning to his computer desktop.

  I’m so close to him that I can smell the cologne he uses, something undoubtedly expensive. I even smell his shampoo as I push his hand off of the mouse and take it instead. I quickly sort through the files on Alan’s desktop. Not surprisingly, he’s about as organized as his son is. He has hundreds of folders on his computer, and none of them are clearly labeled.

  Oliver’s eyes are on the desktop. He doesn’t seem bothered by how close I am, which of course, makes sense. He was my teenage crush. I wasn’t his. I have an ‘aha’ moment when I find a folder entitled ‘AE’. I don’t know what I could possibly be clicking into, but I do it anyway, in hopes that ‘AE’ stands for what I hope it does. It opens a document with names next to email addresses.

  “Do any of these names look familiar?” I asked him. “Like authors that you have possibly worked with or heard of?”

  Oliver squints, leaning in.

  “Ah! Yes! Daisy Lewis!” he said, pointing to one of the names. He turns around in the desk chair to face me and we are unbelievably close. My mind races to a thousand scenarios that it probably shouldn’t. Just...the thought of his hands reaching out to my waist...him pulling me into his lap.

  “Cassidy?”

  I blinked, looking back at him, “Huh? Sorry.”

  “I said that you’re an utter genius. I wouldn’t have been able to figure this out without you. Thank you.”

  “Yes, you would have.” I brushed it off, stepping away from him in hopes that it calms whatever hormones are surging inside of me. He may have been my teenage crush, but he somehow makes me feel like a teenager again now.

  I take my previous seat, get my laptop back on my lap and get back to work. I should probably ask for my own office, knowing that I can’t just take over his, but this’ll work for now. We fall back into silence. Oliver stops cursing underneath his breath, instead I just hear his fingers clacking on the keyboard, joining the sound of my own as we work.

  Often, I find myself losing track of time when I’m working. It’s not out of enjoyment. It’s out of focus. I focus so hard on creating a narrative, on making sure every word I choose to use is perfect. I try my best not to give anyone an opportunity to second guess what I’m trying to say. I only realize that it’s getting late when I blink out of my focused state and check the clock on my laptop. Eight pm.

  Oliver is still sitting across from me, fingers tapping away. Whatever he’s doing, he’s just as entranced as I am.

  “It’s late,” I said, stating the obvious. “We were supposed to leave at five, right?”

  “What are you—” Oliver stopped and looked down at the clock. “Oh,” he said, looking over at me. “I guess we got distracted.”

  I save my statements one last time before I turn off my laptop and force it back into my bag.

  “Guess we did. We should call it a night though. I know it’s not that late, but we do have an early morning tomorrow. We should all meet here by eight if the conference is to be at ten. I need to make sure everybody knows what to do, what to say, and that what they’re wearing is appropriate.”

  “I feel like you’re solely talking about Allison on that latter note,” Oliver said as he stands. He stretches, throwing his arms out to the side and bending his back. He leans back over the computer when he’s done and turns it off, turning back to me. “I may have done something without checking with you.”

  I feel my heart drop. How hard does this family want this to be for me? How impossible are they going to be to work with?

  “What?” I asked, straight-faced.

  “I emailed all of the authors on the list. Personally, not a mass message. I addressed what concerns they may have but told them it was all under control. I told them to please reach out to me with questions, that I want to be hands on with them and their process, that we at Windsor value them no matter how strange things are right now,” he said, pulling his blazer back on. I hadn’t even realized he took it off.

  I’m blown away with Oliver’s move. How hadn’t I thought of that? It’s genius. It’s perfect. I smile.

  “No...that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t even think of that,” I said. “That’ll at least win us some points with them over this. Add in the statement we’ll issue tomorrow, and I hope we’ll only lose a few. I thought you didn’t know anything about PR.”

  “What do you mean lose a few?” he asked, walking out from behind the desk. “And I don’t. I just followed your lead. You gave me an idea and I just went with it, hoping that it was for the best.”

  I nodded, “No, that was...that was a great move.”

  He opens the door to the office for me and I step out; we fall into step together. “I tried,” he said, then silence overtakes us.

  I’m not foolish enough to think that Oliver and I are becoming friends. I have no strange ambition of friendship between my boss and myself. I’m just thankful he’s not as much of an asshole as I thought he was during our first interaction.

  We get downstairs to find that the lights are mostly off. The janitorial staff has already begun to mop the tile in the lobby. I let out a heavy sigh, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. I should have known that Noelle wouldn’t still be here this late, but I had been hopeful. Now I have to hope I’ll get lucky with a cab.

  “What’s wrong?” Oliver asked, turning to look at me. He’s heading towards the hallway opposite the elevators, not the front like I am. We’re now a few feet apart instead of the inches we had been when we were walking down together.

  “Edward told me to get Noelle to call him when I was done, he’d drive me back. But Noelle’s gone and it’s too late to bother Edward, so I need to grab a cab,” I said.

  I expected Oliver to offer to call Edward, that’s why I threw in the part about it being too late. I’ve never lived a life where I had people jumping to my every beck and call, and I don’t want to start now.

  “Oh.”

  Oliver’s nose scrunches up in that way it does when he’s thinking about something. It’s been three days; how have I already
picked that up?

  “I can give you a ride back to your hotel, Cassidy. It’s no problem. It’s on the way home for me,” he said.

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to be a bother. I can just grab a cab. Seriously.”

  “I am being serious,” he said. “You don’t need to be taking a cab. I’ll drive you home. Think of it as a thank you for all your hard work today if you must. Just come on.”

  He turns and starts walking, I feel like I have no choice. I feel like I can’t tell him no, so I follow behind him.

  He leads me down a hallway opposite of where the elevators are located, a part of the building I’ve never explored before. The hallways are long, with benches sitting along the side of them, positioned to look out windows. They’re lined with photographs and book posters, and well-kept plants that match the ones that make up a jungle in the lobby. I follow in silence, the only sound around us is from our shoes clicking on the tile.

  Finally, Oliver comes to a stop at a doorway towards the end of the hallway. He holds it open for me and I step through. I look around, realizing I’m in a parking garage. I didn’t realize Windsor had a parking garage attached to it.

  Still in silence, I follow Oliver to his car. It’s shiny and black, clearly new. I get a peek at the back, and see it’s a Mercedes Benz. To my surprise, Oliver walks around to the passenger’s side and opens the door for me. I raise an eyebrow and mutter a ‘thank you’ before I climb inside.

  He walks around and gets into the driver’s seat. Everything inside of his car is sleek. When the engine roars to life, Oliver puts his arm on the back of my seat as he turns to look behind us, backing out. He finally breaks the silence between us, “I know it has a backup camera. I just prefer to do things manually.”

  That doesn’t change how I felt when his arm was on the back of my seat. It was something so simple that felt so intimate. Oliver speaks again, “You can turn the radio on if you’d like. I generally don’t listen to it, but it’s up to you.”