Even if they don’t, I feel like I’ve found a new family, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Andrew even finds the time to make me a loaf of banana bread every couple weeks. Every time I come home from work to the smell of fresh baked banana bread, I fall in love with him a little bit more.
In the end, Gerrard does deal with his daughter. She gets placed under medical supervision and then moves back in with the Montagues. I see her by chance a few months later, at one of the Giants games. I almost don’t recognize her. Her hair has gone from black to a mousy brown. Instead of being sleek and shiny, it’s frizzy—like a regular person’s hair. Without the nails and makeup and glamour, she looks like a timid young woman who’s in over her head.
Maybe that’s what we all are. My heart breaks for her. She glances at me and then dips her chin and looks away, and I don’t push it. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t force it on her.
Six months after the meeting at his office, Gerrard Montague deposits 2.1 million dollars into Andrew’s account. Andrew glances at me, eyebrows raised.
“What should we do with it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know. It feels wrong to keep it.”
“It’s your money,” I laugh.
“I know, but it just reminds me of that whole mess. She took it because she was sick.”
“What if you donated it?”
Andrew looks at me and tilts his head to the side. “I was thinking more that we could go on an extravagant honeymoon when the season’s over,” he grins. His eyes sparkle, and I laugh.
“Well, I don’t think we need a 2.1-million-dollar honeymoon. I’m not opposed to that idea, though. Maybe you could donate part of it to a mental health organization, and then part of it to our extravagant honeymoon fund?”
He nods and then wraps his arm around my waist. “I like that idea.”
He lays a soft kiss on my lips and I wrap my arms around his neck. I grin. “So where is this extravagant honeymoon going to take us?”
“I was thinking Italy or Greece,” he says. “Somewhere romantic and as beautiful as you.”
I laugh, squeezing my arms around his neck. “Wow, what a smooth talker you are.”
“It’s not smooth talking if it’s the truth, Mrs. Davis.”
I moan, nuzzling my nose against his. “Say it again. Say my name like that.”
“Mrs. Davis,” he growls. “I love you.”
My heart thumps and my smile widens, and then I kiss my husband.
“I love you too, Mr. Davis.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” he says. He slips his hand into mine, and we head to the bedroom. For the next hour and then for the rest of my life, I’m in heaven.
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Lilian
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Knocked Up: The Complete Series
Book 1: Knocked Up by the CEO
1
Harper
“Coming through!” I call out, balancing a tray of cookies in one hand and a jug of eggnog in the other. I can smell the boozy scent of rum coming off the eggnog and I know it’ll be a big hit this year. My coworkers move out of the way as I crouch down toward the table and slide the tray off my hand onto the table in a smooth motion. The tablecloth is covered the cartoonish drawings of snowmen and snow flakes, with tinsel strewn under the trays of food. The whole office looks like the inside of a Christmas store. I place the jug of eggnog beside the cookies and stand up, putting my hands on my hips and turning around.
“That should be it,” I breathe, pulling the hem of my sweater down. It’s the ugliest and most amazing sweater I’ve ever seen, a wooly red monstrosity with flashing LED lights all over the front in the shape of a Christmas tree. Perfect for the office Christmas party.
“Well done, Harper! The place looks amazing,” Rosie says as she walks up beside me. She’s wearing her regular work clothes. In fact, no one except me is dressed up, but I don’t mind. Rosie smiles and raises the plastic wine glass toward me. I grab a glass of my own from the dozens lined up on the table and lift it up it toward Rosie.
“I can finally start enjoying myself now,” I grin back. We clink our glasses and I take my first sip of wine of the evening. “It’s always so much work putting this party together.”
“But it’s always worth it,” Rosie replies. “Think of all the gossip that comes out of it every year!”
She grins mischievously and takes another sip of wine, scanning the room over the rim of her glass. I laugh and nod. She’s right, it’s usually fodder for at least a couple months of water cooler chat. I’ve been in charge of the office Christmas party for the last three years, and they’ve gotten wilder as time has gone on. I’m sure this year will be the same.
“Nice sweatshirt!”
I try not to cringe as the screechy voice reaches my ears. The back of my neck prickles with that same uncomfortable feeling I get every time I hear his voice. I already know it’s Greg from accounting. I turn around slowly and there he is, grinning at me with his toothy, slimy smile. I nod, trying not to stare at the stains on his tie or the greasy hair plastered to his forehead.
“Thanks,” I respond curtly.
“You like Christmas, hey?”
“No, not really, I just do this so I can drink at the office.”
He throws his head back and laughs before shuffling closer, his baggy pants and too-tight shirt sliding in beside me. I inch away as he gets closer. He smells like wet socks.
“Haven’t seen you around the accounts department lately,” he says to me. I try to avoid his stare and glance at Rosie. She’s got her nose buried in her glass of wine.
“I got promoted a year ago, Greg. I don’t work in accounts anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course, but you know, I thought you’d still come around and say hello to me—to the team. I thought we meant something to you!”
He smiles at me and I resist the urge to shudder. I would rather come across as a cold-hearted snobby executive bitch than to willingly spend time with you, after all the torture you put me through! Greg glances at Rosie and his smile disappears immediately. He almost snarls at her and I grab her arm and point over to the other side of the room.
“Oh, look, it looks like those decorations need to be adjusted. Excuse me.”
“I’ll help!” Rosie says. The two of us speed away toward the huge tree I rented for the party.
“Is he still following you around? I thought you’d made a complaint.”
I sigh. “I did, he got a warning from HR and avoided me for a while but it looks like he’s plucked up the courage to talk to me again. Might be the booze.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do? He followed you to your house! Multiple times!”
“Don’t remind me,” I say, glancing at her sideways. I push the thought away, not wanting to go back to those months last year when I was constantly looking over my shoulder. I didn’t even know it was Greg until weeks after the whole thing started. I spent weeks and weeks with that same prickly feeling at the back of my neck, feeling like I was being followed and thinking I was going insane.
The promotion to Commercial Director came with a healthy pay raise and the condition that my complaint about Greg would be satisfied when he got a warning. I never understood why the Human Resources department didn’t take me more seriously, but at the end of the day not many women make it to the Director-level at a top advertising firm at my age. I weighed my options and for the most part, it was worth it. I hardly have to see him anyways.
Rosie and I get to the Christmas tree and look at all 16 feet of it. The top of it grazes the ceiling.
“So what do you want us to adjust? I think Greg is still looking over here,” Rosie asks, looking at the massive tree. It was almost too big to fit in the door. I had to beg and plead to get approval for it, saying that it wasn�
�t a Christmas party without a tree. It’s impeccably decorated and I already know that nothing needs to be adjusted.
“Uh, let’s just lift this string of lights a bit. We can just move them around till he looks away.”
I point to the other side of the tree and Rosie nods. I turn to the lights and am about to grab them when she makes a noise between a gasp and a yelp and I look at her. Her eyes are staring behind me before she flicks them to my face. She lifts her eyebrows up and gives me a knowing nod.
It must be him. Immediately my heart starts beating faster and I hear the roar of every heartbeat pounding in my ears.
It’s our elusive, mysterious, unbelievably sexy CEO. Zachary Lockwood. I feel my cheeks burning as Rosie glances back at him. I turn my head slowly and see him near the entrance of the office, shaking hands with one of the employees. His suit is navy with little white pinstripes. His chocolate brown hair is slicked back perfectly, with a crisp part down the side. He’s tall and athletic, with a chiseled jaw and unbelievably deep brown eyes. Not that I’ve noticed, or anything.
I glance away quickly, trying to ignore the thumping of my heart. I’ve been admiring him from a distance ever since he took over and brought our firm back from the brink of bankruptcy. Rosie knows it, and constantly teases me whenever he makes an appearance at the office. Thankfully that doesn’t happen very often.
“He doesn’t have a hot blonde model with him this time, maybe this is your chance!” Rosie whispers loudly with a grin.
“Shut up,” I respond. “I’m sure he’s got a gaggle of girls waiting in the wings.”
Rosie nods and my heart sinks a little. I know it’s probably true. He’s one of the richest and sexiest men in New York, and definitely way, way out of my league. Plus, he’s my boss! Even if I had a chance with him, it would definitely be inappropriate to pursue it.
Suddenly I wish I wasn’t wearing a ridiculous light-up Christmas tree on my chest. I could be wearing anything else and it would be more flattering. Literally anything. A paper bag would look better than this thing.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. He’s my boss. Even if he is attractive, we work together and fantasising about him is inappropriate. I shake my head and try to ignore the nervous excitement at the pit of my stomach. I take another sip of wine and nod to Rosie and the string of lights. She grins but says nothing, and instead turns to the tree and follows my lead.
2
Zach
I’ve been trying not to stare at her ever since I walked in. Harper Anderson is my employee, after all. I can’t help it that there’s something about her that intrigues me. Maybe it’s the way she doesn’t seem to care who I am? Usually employees, especially women, are nervous and flustered when they see me. She’s all business, all the time. Nothing seems to phase her.
I glance over at her as she talks to another woman beside the massive fake Christmas tree that dominates the room. She marched into my office six weeks ago and insisted on ordering that huge tree, standing in front of me with a graph she’d prepared that showed Christmas cheer increasing exponentially with every extra foot of tree that we ordered. Her face had been so serious, and she’d presented her carefully prepared graphs and figures as if it was the quarterly review.
I had no choice, I had to say yes. Harper had me totally off-balance and I hadn’t even been able to laugh at the ridiculousness and thoroughness of her proposal. But as soon as I said yes I’d seen a twinkle in her eye and I knew there was something different about her. It’s not often that people surprise me like that.
She’s good at what she does, and that’s what matters. It doesn’t matter that my cock starts to twitch whenever I think about her, or that I can’t seem to get her out of my head for days every time I visit the office.
“… the Jackson file will be ready for your signature by Monday morning, and.. Zach? Are you listening?”
I’m pulled from my thoughts and turn to my Editor in Chief and best friend. I put a hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye.
“Mitch. It’s the Christmas party. No more work talk.”
“Alright, alright,” he says, throwing his hands up. “You want a drink?” he asks, motioning to the snack table.
I nod as I glance at the full spread of food and drink on the table. Harper’s done a good job this year, once again. There’s every imaginable snack and appetiser and drink that anyone could ever want. The woman knows how to throw a party.
Mitch starts walking toward the drinks. “You got any plans this weekend?”
“I was thinking of checking out that new club downtown tomorrow night, you in? There’s a potential client there with a VIP booth.”
Mitch grins. “VIP booth means girls girls girls. I’m in.”
I nod. He’s right, there will be women. There always are, at these things. It’s part of the job, really. Our brand is what sells advertisements—luxury, excess, riches, women, everything that’s good in the world. Everything that’s good in my life. I see people my age settling down and having kids and all I can think is why?! Why would you want that? Why would you want to be tied to one person for the rest of your life?
“What happened with that model you were seeing? I thought you’d be here with her,” Mitch asks as we get to the table. There are dozens of tiny wine glasses lined up in front of us.
“Didn’t work out,” I reply. It never does. I never let it, women just want to use me for my money and status, so I use them right back.
“Tomorrow is a new night,” Mitch says as he hands me a glass of wine.
“Tonight is a new night,” I correct with a grin. He chuckles and nods before taking a sip. I drink with him but something is off. I don’t quite believe myself when I say these things tonight. Why would I care about models and actresses and all these beautiful women that only want me for what I can buy for them, or who I can introduce them to? Maybe the people settling down have found something I haven’t.
Probably not. I grab a glass of wine off the table.
“Merry Christmas,” I say to Mitch.
“Merry Christmas, buddy. To every night being a new night, and every girl being a new girl!”
I force a chuckle and touch my glass to his. I steal another glance over toward Harper. She’s laughing at something. I can see her cheeks flushing from over here. I can’t quite make out her freckles, but if I get a little bit closer I’m sure I could see them scattered over her cheeks and nose. She’s completely dwarfed standing next to that ridiculous tree. She’s wearing an atrocious red sweater with lights on it, pointing to the decorations with the woman next to her. I have no idea how, but somehow she makes it look sexy.
She’s smiling at her friend and the two of them laugh about something. Her sweater is flashing and I almost let myself grin as I look at her. Just as Mitch and I start walking away from the drinks she turns her head and our eyes meet from across the room.
It only lasts a second before she looks away but something stirs inside me. Those green eyes of hers are like beams of light that pierce right through me. I could see that twinkle in her eye from all the way over here and I can’t help but wonder what she’s laughing about.
I need to get closer to her tonight, to have an actual conversation with her. I’m not going to settle for the same business talk and cold mask that she puts on. I want to know the real Harper Anderson.
3
Harper
He was looking right at me. My heart is practically jumping out of my chest. Get it together! I’ve only had half a glass of wine and I’m already dizzy from one look. Who cares how good looking he is?! He’s a player! And he’s my boss.
I glance at Rosie and nod to the lights. She grabs the strand of wire and we lift it away from the tree together. We move it up a fraction of an inch and then place it back down on the fake green branches. It looks exactly the same.
“There,” I say with exaggerated satisfaction, dusting my hands off in front of me. Rosie laughs. I glance at her and grin before turnin
g back to the tree. At least it got me away from Greg.
“It looks perfect, Harps,” Rosie says. I can tell she means it.
“It better look perfect, it’s costing old Mister Zachary Moneybags a small fortune,” I laugh. “I still can’t believe he approved the expense.”
My eyes drift upwards and I notice that one of the bow-shaped ribbons is caught in a branch and twisted awkwardly. I reach up toward it, trying to wiggle it loose. It’s almost out of reach. I can just touch it with the tips of my fingers as I stand on the tip of my toes.
I take a small step forward and try to reach the bow again. The soft velvet of the bow tickles my fingertips and I stretch my body a tiny bit more until I can grasp it between two fingers.
“Come on,” I breathe, grabbing it and pulling it down to straighten it out. I have the bow in my fingers and pull gently, but something is wrong. It’s not budging as easily as I thought it would. I try yanking it a little bit harder to bring the bow out from the branches. I’m on the tips of my toes, taking a thousand tiny steps forward and back to keep my balance. I grab the bow once more between my fingers and pull just a tiny, tiny bit harder.
The bow wrenches loose and I finally get a grip on it, and then everything happens at once. I try to fix the ribbon but something is wrong. I’m still on the tips of my toes and I feel like the ground is shifting under my feet and I can’t regain my balance. My feet shuffle forward and back again a million times. My stomach drops and time slows down.
No, no, no, no, no!
“Harper!” I hear Rosie’s voice as if it’s coming at me from underwater. I hear her scream as I feel myself falling backwards, still grabbing on to that pesky velvet ribbon between my fingers. My heart leaps into my throat as I feel the ground falling away from me, sending me flying backwards. I’m spinning, falling through the air in slow motion. Finally I let go of that stupid bow and my arms fly up to my head to protect my fall.
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 50