by Tharp, Emma
The Trade
A Billionaire Office Fling
Emma Tharp
Copyright © 2019 by Emma Tharp
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Emma Tharp
One
Garrett
Final decree of divorce… …Irretrievably broken… The bonds of marriage are hereby dissolved.
The words swim on the paper. Paper that I don’t want to sign, but I’m left with no choice.
"Are you sure you want to go with adultery as grounds for divorce?" Mark, my lawyer, asks.
The court conference room is too fucking white. Everything is cold, bland, and sterile. I glance across the table at my soon-to-be ex-wife's bulging belly, which is currently housing some other man's child. "Positive," I snap.
Adriana runs her fingers through her thick blonde hair and her pink-painted bottom lip is sticking out. "I can't believe you want to end it like this," she whispers.
She looks to be on the verge of tears, which used to absolutely wreck me, but not anymore. My heart's grown hard now. I look at her through narrowed eyes. "I can't believe you cheated on me with the doorman, so I guess we're even," I seethe.
I thought my rage had dissipated. I haven’t laid eyes on her in nearly three months. It’s been good for me not to see her and the evidence of her betrayal. But now, with her sitting in front of me, a fresh wave of anger rolls through me.
"And you have to humiliate me like this? Instead of going with a no-fault divorce?" She crosses her arms over her belly, clearly not hearing a word I just said.
Gripping the handles of the chair so hard I'm afraid it might break underneath my fingertips, I take a steadying breath. All I want is for this nightmare to be over. "You're carrying another man's child. Don't talk to me about humiliation."
"Let's talk settlements," her lawyer pipes up, attempting to defuse the anger that's banging around the room.
I begin to laugh, almost hysterically. Adriana stares at me, a perplexed expression on her face. I nudge Mark. "Show her. I think the hormones have destroyed what's left of her mind."
Mark, wearing a grim expression, pushes a copy of our prenup across the table.
"Shit," Adriana moans.
"Exactly." I lean back in the chair and fold my hands behind my neck. It's impossible to stop the smile that spreads across my face. I know I’m being a dick, but I’ve never felt more fucked over. This isn’t what I wanted. Adriana used to bring out the very best in me. Not anymore. When I look at her, the woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with, all I see is red.
"Let's talk about signing the paperwork. You may want to get remarried before the baby arrives.” My lawyer pushes a pen across the table.
There’ll be no more excuses. The divorce will go through uncontested.
Adriana leans in and whispers something to her attorney. It feels like forever, but sure enough, my wife signs the paperwork and with that, becomes my ex-wife.
Normally strong-willed and sophisticated, Adriana tucks her tail between her legs and leaves the conference room with her lawyer close behind her.
Swallowing hard, I scrawl my name across the document and push it toward Mark. When I watched Adriana walk down the aisle toward me, nine years ago, I thought we were going to be forever. I gave her all of me. I never dreamed that she would go out on our marriage and ruin everything we’d built. Stupidly, I didn’t see it coming. I was trusting, foolish, and naive.
“See? I told you this would be over before you knew it," Mark says, gathering the papers and putting them in his briefcase.
He’s right. Mark is the best divorce attorney in the business. It’s only been three months and he got the job done.
It is over, but for me it's been over since the genetic testing showed the child might have Tay-Sachs disease. Now, this can happen when both parents are Jewish, the genetic counselor explained. The thing is, I'm not Jewish. When I had looked Adriana in the eye, her face had gone pink and she averted her eyes—her tell. And in that instant, I knew the baby wasn't mine. It was the lowest I've ever felt in my life, because getting her pregnant had been my sole focus for the last three years of our marriage.
We spent all of our time in fertility testing, in and out of Ob/Gyn offices. There were vacations designed to help relax us so we could conceive. And despite the trying, the timed sex, the calendars, the rushing home at a moment’s notice to fuck her, I hadn't been the one to actually get her pregnant, which left me wondering. Could I be infertile? Despite the test results? With all of our efforts, I never minded any of it. We both wanted a baby. I wanted to be a father. And my ex-wife took that away from me.
I knew there was no coming back from her betrayal. As soon as the truth was known, she packed her bags and left. We didn’t discuss the possibility of a reconciliation, because in my eyes she’d ruined everything. No amount of couples counseling was going to erase her transgressions or somehow bring us back together. There’s another man’s baby involved. I don’t know if Adriana and the doorman are together or not, and at this point I don’t give a damn. He’s no longer working in my building, and that’s all I care about. Now we’re both free to live our own lives.
Leaving the courthouse, I should feel lighter, happier, and more secure in the knowledge that I'd saved my company, my home, and my accounts, but I don't. This is not where I saw my life at thirty-five. My head is spinning and my limbs feel heavy.
Taking the seat in the back of my town car, my phone rings. My brother, Donovan, my partner in crime and best friend. "Hi. It's done."
Two
Camille
My boss has been in an extra crummy mood this morning, short with the staff and brooding around the office more than usual. But I take it in stride because he had to leave the building, and as his PA, I know he’ll be tied up with his divorce proceedings, which leaves me time during my lunch break to see my gynecologist.
I shouldn't have waited so long to make the appointment.
Yesterday, I hit a pothole that seemed to come out of nowhere, which landed me a flat tire and a bent rim. The damn thing needs two new tires and more money than I have. So, I walk, take the subway, and then walk some more to Dr. Lin’s office.
By the time I finally make it there, my side is throbbing. It makes sense, as there has been a lump half the size of a softball protruding from my side. It's been slowly growing over the last six months. My solution? To wear bulky clothes that hide it. It doesn't matter. Nobody ever seems to notice anyway.
Lying here in the light blue painted exam room, I stare up at the ceiling as my doctor examines me. The silence causes my ears to ring while Dr. Lin prods and pushes the lump.
"I don't like it. Especially with your family history of cancer," Dr. Lin says, staring down at me with warm, da
rk eyes.
Swallowing past the knot of nerves bundled in my throat, I shake my head. Mom died of ovarian cancer when I was five.
"You need an ultrasound. I don't like the size or feel of this. I wish you’d come in sooner." She moves the gown back in place. "Go down the hall and the ultrasound tech will call you when she's ready."
Gingerly, I ease off the exam table and adjust the gown in place. I pad down the hallway to the ultrasound waiting area and take a seat. My toe taps in a steady rhythm as I sit in the hall and wait.
I don't have the money for any of this, and ironically, I make too much money for anything but bare-bones, assisted healthcare. I can only hope that somehow this all gets covered, despite the fact that I don’t think I’ve met my deductible.
Do I have cancer like Mom? All I remember when she was sick as a kid was her laying around in bed, bald and tired all the time. She always told me not to be afraid, but it didn't matter because I always was. When she told me she was dying, it broke my little five-year-old heart. My palms start to sweat, and I rub them on my gown.
Another woman walks down the hall, wearing a gown and sporting a big beautiful pregnant belly. I'd be happy for her to go first; her news will most likely be better than mine. She'll probably find out today if it's a boy or a girl. Twins maybe? But that isn't to be, because my name is called next.
A young woman leads me to the exam table. My gown is pushed to the side and a warm gel is squirted on my abdomen.
"Good luck finding the lump," I joke to the tech, but she doesn't crack a smile.
Seconds later we’re staring at the screen. The tech takes a bunch of pictures and then some measurements. She turns off the machine and hands me a towel to wipe off the gel. Finally, she murmurs, "The doctor will be in to speak to you in a moment."
I don't like her tone of voice, it's cold and formal. She knows something. My heart feels like it’s pounding in my throat.
Waiting for only a few minutes, Dr. Lin comes in the door. "I checked out your ultrasound. You have a cyst. And we need to do surgery as soon as possible to remove it, then we’ll send it to pathology to make sure it’s not something more serious. You'll receive a call to schedule everything." With that she leaves the room.
A cyst. Okay, I still have no idea if my insurance is going to cover this. And I really can’t afford to take time off work.
Exiting the room, the pregnant woman is still sitting and waiting for her turn.
“Boy or girl?” she asks.
“Cyst,” I tell her, my tone flat like the ultrasound tech. I don't turn to see her response before I walk away.
Back at the office, I'm relieved to see that Garrett, my boss, has not made it back to the office yet. I'm sure he wouldn't take too kindly to me returning twenty minutes late from my lunch break. I’m never late, but I didn’t expect the ultrasound portion of my office visit today. Just as I'm starting to dig into a project, my phone rings.
"Hello," I say.
"It's Dr. Lin's office. We checked your insurance, and while you can make payments on the hospital portion of your bill, the doctor’s part needs to be paid up front. It seems that you haven’t met your deductible yet."
My head starts to pound. "How much?"
"Thirteen ninety-four."
"Thirteen dollars and ninety-four cents?" Everything brightens. I have that much in my checking account.
"No. One thousand, three hundred and ninety-four dollars."
My heart sinks. It might as well be a million. "I'll call you back,” I murmur into the line before I hang up.
The granola bar I ate on my way back to the office churns in my stomach. I'm broke and I don't even have a good reason for it. I don't love my job. I'm not helping make the world a better place. All I do is help the billionaire keep his life organized. Not exactly earth-shattering. I'm never going to earn a place in heaven for this.
I'm going to be disfigured forever and die young. That’s the cheapest way out of this, anyway. It's not like it would matter. I'm completely replaceable. Garrett could find a new PA in under a minute.
The outer office door flies open and Garrett enters the room. He runs his hand through his dark hair and lowers his chin to his chest. He’s clearly shaken and I’ve never seen him like this. It's understandable—signing divorce papers couldn’t have been easy.
I don’t know everything that went down between Garrett and his wife. They seemed like a happily married couple. And Adriana is drop-dead gorgeous. She’s modeled lingerie and bathing suits in the past. They looked like the couple you’d see in picture frames that you buy in the store, all white teeth and perfection. But there were rumors going around the office that Adriana cheated on him. I can’t imagine what would possess her to do such a thing. If I was married to Garrett Monroe, I wouldn’t stray. No way. I respect him too much for all the hard work he does and his dedication to his companies. But my dad always told me that you never know what goes on behind closed doors. Whatever it was, it must’ve been bad to end in divorce.
Even in his troubled state, Garrett Monroe still looks amazing. He’s always the picture of control and power with his tall commanding presence. His suit is bespoke and fits his toned body like a glove. His dark, intense eyes match his silky hair. His aura screams drive and success. That’s why it’s so hard to see him distraught.
"I'll get you some water," I tell him. It's nicer to think of someone else than have to deal with my own problems.
Three
Garrett
Bursting through the doors of my office, I make it to my desk in three strides and sink down in the chair. I just need a few minutes to get my head together. What I just went through was like my brain going through a bad car accident. I have to regroup, especially since I’m sure Donovan will be here soon.
Camille, my assistant, appears in front of my desk with a glass of water. Without saying a word, I motion for her to leave. She sets the glass down on a coaster and totters back to her desk.
Pausing for a moment, I can't help but notice there's something different about the way Camille is walking today. Her shoulders are curled over, devoid of the normal poise she normally possesses. I have to know what’s wrong. I don’t like to see any of my staff looking that way, especially since it’s the woman who works as my assistant.
Before I even have time to think about it, Donovan comes striding into the office. First, he goes to Camille's desk and shakes her hand with enthusiasm. My brother is a huge flirt.
He bounds into my office. "How does it feel? I expected more of a glow on your ruggedly handsome face." He chuckles and takes a seat across from mine.
"First of all, I'm not comfortable with you calling me ruggedly handsome."
Donovan gives me a devilish grin, one I'm sure melts the ladies’ panties. "Why not? We're both ruggedly handsome and you know it. Let's get to the point. What do you want to do first?"
Reclining in my chair, I take a moment to think. "Well, the penthouse is officially all mine. I plan to reclaim it. Decorate it to suit my tastes. And maybe…smoke a cigar. Are cigars still a thing?"
"I think so, but stop it with all that other stuff.” He leans in and gestures for me to move in closer. “You're supposed to go get laid."
"No, I have no prospects and I'm not really interested." After years of being trained to mate on demand, I'm more interested in meeting someone I genuinely like. Then we can let the relationship progress naturally. That way I might finally be in the mood again.
"Garrett, you were married for years and your wife stole your manhood. Go find some gorgeous woman to fuck already. Christ, I still haven't figured out how you remained faithful to that woman for all of those years." He crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"Because cheating is wrong."
Donovan shrugs one of his well-toned shoulders. "She cheated on you and now your doorman is having your baby."
"Technically, she's having the doorman's baby," I correct him.
"Where do you go? What d
o you do for fun? I can help you find someone," Donovan says, lounging back, putting his hands behind his neck.
This makes me laugh. "I go to work. I make money. That's what I do for fun."
Donovan spins around and assesses the office staff.
"What about your personal assistant? Maybe she could assist you. Personally." Donovan waggles his brows.
What is he thinking? And more importantly, where does he come up with these ideas? I can't help frowning at him. "Camille? She's a nice girl, but look at the way she dresses in those frumpy clothes. She's not trying to hook a guy. She's trying to go unnoticed."
"Is she gaining weight? Her clothes keep getting bigger."
I do a double take and focus on the woman sitting behind her desk, face angled down, pen in hand, working hard for me the way she always does. "I see her every day. How do you pick up on things like that?"
"I notice women. Especially attractive ones. I'm single and plan to keep it that way. No woman is going to castrate me." He leans in, his face growing serious. It's almost like looking into a mirror. The same dark brows and square jaw like our dad and slim noses from our mother. "Under the frumpy clothes, the tight bun, and glasses is a beautiful woman. I bet she would love to have a one-night stand with you. You’re her boss."
I shake my head vehemently. The idea is absurd. Focusing on her more closely, I see Donovan is right. Even with everything she does to diminish herself, I can't ignore her natural beauty. She has smooth skin, beautiful eyes, and under the baggy clothes, she’s hiding a nice body—at least it was before the oversized sweaters. "That's exactly why she wouldn't do it."