by Alexis Angel
She smiles sweetly at the board, her charm working overtime.
“Elsa, to accuse someone of bribery and incompetence over and over again in the press could also be constituted as mental. Didn’t you think that I was going to retaliate? You know me, you know that I will not, and do not, take that shit lightly,” I say sternly, forcing myself to keep my voice at an even level.
“At my show? Poaching my models? The ones I’ve handpicked? That’s your way to get back at me? For someone who doesn’t like going low, you sure have outdone yourself.”
“That wasn’t low, angel. That was a justifiable response. That is and was exactly what you deserved. How can you not see that? Are you blind or just ignorant?”
“Excuse me?”
Her voice raises an octave, and she slaps both of her hands on the table, squaring her shoulders.
“Don’t you ever call me that. Your inability to recognize how insane you sound proves me right. You should be fired, seeing as you’re too unstable to run a fucking business.”
I place my hands on the chair’s armrest and begin to stand up.
It’s taking every ounce of strength in me not to go over to her, push her against the wall, and fuck her hard.
Fighting with her is fucking hot—I just wish she wasn’t such a fucking bitch about it.
I ache to shut her up, suck that slick tongue of hers dry, and make her come for me.
But I’m halted by another suit, whose name escapes me. They all look alike.
“That’s it. You’re both going to shut the fuck up and calm down,” he says in a loud yet oddly calm manner.
We both turn toward him and hold our tongues, and I shuffle my ass in my seat to hide my growing desire for her. A current of electricity still lingers between us, but we ignore it.
Instead, for the sake of our jobs, we face forward and listen.
“Since plan A has already failed, we’ll resort to plan B,” Mark chimes in. “If plan B doesn’t work, then you’re both shit out of luck.”
We both nod in acknowledgment, and I relax a little knowing that I won’t be fired today.
“But you’re not off the hook. You’re both not going to like plan B. In fact, you might find it worse than losing your job.”
Chapter 3
Elsa
How in the hell is this going to work?
A million thoughts race through my mind, and a range of emotions tear at me. My blood rapidly drains, and I start feeling light-headed, nauseated—like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I wasn’t expecting plan B to be this terrible.
Sitting at the conference table, I place my hands in front of me for balance.
And I blink rapidly, hoping to find some clarity in the whirlwind that’s now upending my world.
It’s like I’m in the goddamn Wizard of Oz. But, instead of it being a dream, it’s my reality—I’m being thrown into a dangerous, time-warping vortex, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I lick my lips, trying to bring some moisture to my mouth and some semblance of life back to my body.
“Ex-excuse me? W-what?” I stutter and shake my head in disbelief.
“Given the current state of our stocks, which is a direct result of your feud and reckless stunts, we have no other choice but to change the narrative and make it seem as if this whole thing was a lover’s spat. Not a business disagreement,” Mark restates.
If he wasn’t spouting profanities at me, I would think Mark cute: salt and pepper hair with emerald green eyes. He might be a bit older, but, sometimes, maturity is a good thing.
It’s a type of quality that Tanner has yet to acquire.
Another director on my board, Michael, follows up, continuing to describe some of the finer details.
“For our industry, spinning this as a spat between lovers makes sense. It is relatable, and our consumers will understand. You will get engaged, and we’ll leak everything to the press. I’m sure Lis Langley will have a field day with this.” He raises his eyebrows and a few of the other directors laugh at his oh-so-humorous joke.
Are you fucking kidding me? Get engaged? To Tanner!?
No matter how many times they say it, I still can’t believe it.
My body starts to go numb, and I’m beginning to feel like I’ve died and am now floating above my body, watching as my world implodes below.
“How in the hell do you think that’ll work?” Tanner asks, looking all too comfortable given the current situation.
One of the directors goes into a lengthy explanation, answering his question, while I get distracted by him and my raging thoughts.
He looks agitated but not enough for our current situation. Nothing close to matching my fury.
Why isn’t he fuming? Why isn’t he freaking out about this?
A day ago, he was humiliating me, and now he’s fine with being engaged to me.
He’s fucking Jekyll and Hyde.
And it’s shit like this—his unpredictability—that made marrying him a terrible idea. One of the many reasons why I so vehemently ran away from it.
Sure, what we had was powerful and exhilarating. But it was too good to be true.
Something like that—like us—is dangerous.
Don’t get me wrong, once upon a time I dreamed of being Mrs. Sharpe. Running the lingerie world by his side as Mr. and Mrs.
And, in our time, we were damn good at it.
So naturally, and very briefly, it makes me think that this ridiculous plan could work.
Seeing as we have a past, it wouldn’t be hard to spin it as a fight or whatever the hell they’re calling it.
My mind veers off as I stare at him. His muscles tense, outlining his chiseled features, and he runs his hand through his chestnut hair, styling it in a perfectly groomed but messy way.
I hate how attractive he is, even when he’s hungover—it’s not fucking fair.
Maybe, it could be like last time—hot, passionate, magnetic.
Admittedly, parts of me still ache for him. And his steel grey eyes continue to send chills down my spine and heat up my body.
Watching him now sitting across from me, biting and licking his lips, has me reminiscing about the times we had together.
Shit, I can’t go down that path again.
I was naïve then. I’m not now.
Yes, I fell for his bad boy looks and his prince charming personality. How could I not? He’s a fantasy come to life.
But now, I know what can happen—or what does happen when you get into bed with Tanner Sharpe.
My nemesis.
At least this time, seeing as I’m being forced into bed with him metaphorically, I’m prepared.
I shudder, reliving the memories while I also become slightly disgusted with myself.
I can’t do this shit.
He meets my gaze, and his eyes clear the fog clouding my vision. His lips grow into a smug smirk, almost like he knows what I’m thinking.
Ass!
“And how do you expect me not to murder him?” I ask, now irritated with his presence—again.
God, I hate how he has me dripping wet one second and infuriated the next.
Mark looks straight at me, stern and serious, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Like I said, this is your last and only option. There is no plan B or C. If you,” he says to me before looking at Tanner, “or you fuck this plan up in any way, you will be fired immediately.”
I sit there frozen. They mean business, and there’s no room for bullshit.
The severity of my situation settles in my gut, and again I feel sick to my stomach.
The mix of anger, adrenaline, lust, and disappointment pulsating through my body leaves me feeling defeated and weak.
“Before we leave, you’ll both sign contracts to approve the terms we’ve agreed upon today.”
“Well, we barely had any room to negotiate, so I wouldn’t call it an agreement, more like an ultimatum,” Tanner sarcastically points out to Mark.
Quickly, tension crackles through the room, and Mark’s face turns crimson.
Shit, he’s pissed. Again.
He stands up and hovers over Tanner, looking like he’s about to punch him.
“You’ll agree, or you’ll be fired. You still have a choice. You might not like the options, but it’s a choice nonetheless. You’re lucky we’re giving you any say after what you did. You sank us.” He raises his voice, and he turns to look over at me, saying, “You both sank us. So, we’re giving you the option to agree to our terms. And if you don’t, the door is right there.”
Mark continues to shuffle around some papers, and then hands us two documents, one stating that we agree to the fake marriage plan, and the other laying out the specifics of our probation.
My shoulders sink while reading over them—there really is no other option.
But I will not lose my livelihood because of that asshole. He will not cost me what I’ve worked so hard on.
I need to take control of my responsibilities and become the goddamn CEO I’ve always wanted to be—strong, ruthless, and powerful.
I would do almost anything to keep my company and to run it honestly. And if that requires me to be part of a fake engagement with him, I’ll get it done.
I visibly shake as I reach for a pen, and it takes me more than a few minutes to scribble something resembling my signature on the dotted line.
A second later, Mark snatches the papers out of our hands.
“Very well then. Gentlemen, I think we have everything we need. Michael, please stay behind and continue to hash over the details with them. I want the story out by tomorrow.”
I watch in horror as they finish stuffing their briefcases and head out the door, waving or nodding their ‘Bye’s and ‘Good day’s when they leave.
Tanner faces me and forces me to meet his eyes.
We stare at each other in silence, not sure what to say or what to do.
What in the hell do you say to your enemy-now-pretend-fiancé?
I don’t have much experience in the matter, and, I believe, neither does he.
The air in the room thickens, and sweat develops at my hair line. I squirm, feeling more uncomfortable than I did with the directors in the room.
Michael breaks the awkward, tension-filled silence and starts to fill in the gaps of our new arrangement.
Although I might not like what he’s saying, I silently thank him for his distraction. If not for him, I’m not sure what would happen between Tanner and me right now.
The way he’s looking at me—how he’s making me feel—has me confusing my hatred for desire.
There’s no denying that we’re attracted to each other, but the way he draws me to him unnerves me.
It’s something beyond natural or understandable. And, believe me, I’ve tried many times to figure how and why he has this effect over me.
There’s no logical reason.
I shake him off and focus on avoiding his passing glances and his annoying comments. I know I should be listening to Michael, but my attention is everywhere else. In my head, I force myself to repeat a new mantra: Tanner is the enemy.
Albeit a sexy, very sexy enemy.
And I have to shove any of this bubbly, mind-fucking nonsense down before it becomes a much bigger problem.
Once Michael finishes explaining everything, we all begrudgingly agree on how best to go forward with our fake engagement.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” I say, standing up.
I fix my dress and move my hair over to one shoulder. The temperature in the room is now scorching, making me wet everywhere.
“Until next time, Mrs. Sharpe,” he says, shooting a wink at me.
Shit. We’re definitely not in Kansas—or my New York—anymore.
Chapter 4
Tanner
My life, my livelihood is in her pretty little manicured hands.
Fuck. I hate not being in control. And she knows it, too.
As we exit the board room, I grab Elsa’s arm. I pull her into my office before she slips out of my fingers into the elevator. It’s almost fucking funny—she might hold all the control here, but I can still pull her around like she weighs nothing.
And it’s not like she comes willingly, either—I feel the way she tries to dig in those sharp little heels on her Louboutins as I drag her along.
I close the door to the nosy onlookers in the hall as I hear Elsa swear behind me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hisses.
She’s always so fucking beautiful when she’s pissed.
“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do,” I lie.
The truth is, I can’t think of a better way to spend the next few months of my life than pretending to be engaged to this sexy creature currently throwing daggers at me from the deep oceans of her blue eyes.
“I find that impossible to believe,” she says. “The mere thought of having to spend time with you, having to act like I can stand to be in the same room—much less hemisphere—with you? Meryl Streep couldn’t pull off this level of a performance, sweetheart. You’re out of your league here.”
Goddamn, I love the way her lips curl when she’s angry. She’s also gorgeous when she’s happy, of course. When she’s in the throes of passion, even better.
And believe me, I remember bringing her to that point and beyond many times.
Her lips curl when she comes around my thick, hard cock too.
So fine. There’s no denying it. I still want her.
Never stopped wanting her actually.
I dare you to find any man in America—no, the Universe—who wouldn’t do damn near anything to bed Elsa Blakely.
Our little predicament gives me the perfect chance to do just that with her again.
If only we could get along anyway.
A big wrinkle in the plan our boards concocted is that we can’t seem to go more than a few minutes before devolving into bickering and trading barbs with each other. Not that verbal sparring with her isn’t fun, but having my company on the line takes most of the fun out of it.
“We need to figure out how this is going to work,” I say, snapping back into focus. “This isn’t going to pan out unless we’re united on this—like it or not.”
“Easy,” Elsa says. “You just have to not be the biggest jackass ever, and everything will blow over. Now, it won’t be easy for you, but...”
With her back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up an entire wall in my office, I’m getting quite the view of her body outlined in the sun. She’s standing with her legs slightly apart, and the space between her toned thighs is forming an arrow that seems to be pointing me, guiding me straight to her Promised Land.
Damn. I feel my mouth start to water.
“Earth to Tanner,” Elsa says, waving her arm in front of me. “Can you stop thinking whatever smutty thoughts you were thinking long enough for us to hatch a plan? My company is on the line here.”
“As is mine, angel,” I say, shaking the thoughts of Elsa in my bed and in my arms out of my head. Walking over to my desk, I say, “I’ll woo you with a few public dates to get the media stirred up, then reveal to the media that we’re getting hitched—maybe we’ll leak it to the hot blonde who writes for The Chronicle—and then we’ll take it from there.”
“Sure, and then once we break up and go back to our respective companies, you can fuck the ‘hot blonde.’”
“Lis Langley? Maybe I will,” I say, leaning against the door, still staring at her outlined form. “I’ll be single again, after all. She can help me pick up the pieces of my shattered heart.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Tanner.” Elsa laughs—beautiful but cold. “You can’t shatter something that doesn’t exist.”
“Is that really what you think?” I try not to let the hurt creep into my voice. “It’d explain why you’re so fucking blasé right now, I guess.”
“Look. We need ground rules,” Elsa says, ignori
ng my honest question. “We won’t be able to avoid kissing on the mouth—but if you try to lay one on my cheek, so help me god, I’ll end you. None of the old pet names, so cut that angel shit out right now. And as few public outings as possible would be ideal.”
I walk around my desk. She’s leaning against it with her arms crossed, which pushes her tits up even higher than before. It’s a hell of a view, and I’m enjoying every second of it.
There are perks to being fake married to an ex-lingerie model, after all.
I stop inches from her.
I lean in, our bodies almost touching, and say, “You used to like to be in my presence, as I recall. Couldn’t get you out of my bed some days, remember?”
“That was a naive twenty year old who fell for the cocky marketing whiz. Some of us grew up and learned from our mistakes.”
“So, you’re the wise, mature woman, and I’m the impulsive player still chasing anything with a pussy, is that it?”
“The phrase ‘truer words’ comes to mind. But, you said it, not me.”
I’m on the verge of feeling insulted.
Any other man would be insulted, but as she’s hurling insults at me, I realize she hasn’t taken a step back.
I look into her eyes, and they seem alive, on fire. Even when her back was against the wall in the conference room, and she thought she was about to get fired, she didn’t have this intense look in her eyes.
I still get to her.
A small smile escapes my lips, and I hold my ground—figuratively and literally.
“You can’t deny how good it was between us, in bed at least,” I say. “Reliving that part of us wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it?”
I take a moment to look her up and down, resting for a moment on her tits and pussy. I bring my eyes back up her body and notice that she’s watching me.
I look at her neck and see the pulsating vein there; her heart is probably beating faster.
I definitely still get to her.
Elsa places her hand on my chest, sending currents of passion rippling through my body. It takes every ounce of resolve I have not to rip her dress around her waist and plunge my cock into her right then and there.