Lucky Prince_A Fake Fiance, Real Royal Wedding Romance

by Eva Luxe

  “I can’t afford to fuck my life up any further by getting caught doing drugs at work,” I explain yet again to Katie.

  I’d already told her a million times. But I’m sure she just forgot because she’s always so stoned.

  “Let alone piss dirty on a drug test.”

  She laughs.

  “They don’t drug test people here. Drug tests aren’t for law firms. Lawyers believe in civil fucking rights and shit. And constitutional ones too.”

  Now I’m the one who laughs, but she keeps going.

  “Plus, the law is rife with drug users. Do you know how many lawyers and even judges would fail a drug test, due to all the coke they do? Have you ever watched the movie ‘Puncture’?”

  “No,” I tell her, as I begin searching through the files and putting any with red star Sticky Notes into the cart that I’m wheeling. “I don’t have enough of an attention span to sit through a movie.”

  “Oh, that’s all I do when I’m not working or reading,” Katie says. “Well, I mostly read, but I also love to watch movies.”

  As she takes another hit of her vape pen and falls into some kind of weed stupor I refrain from saying, “No shit, Stoner.”

  Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’ve never smoked pot before. Shit, I’ve done every drug under the sun— back then. But this is now.

  The new me doesn’t smoke pot. Ruby Mansfield is all about getting her act together. Except, damn, it would be hot to get with Cameron Sanchez.

  I’m sure that sleeping with your boss is more than frowned upon in this new professional world I’ve entered but I also can’t help thinking of it as one of those forbidden things that feels wrong to actually do but oh so good to think about. When I really admit it, it would probably feel oh so good to actually do, too.

  As if reading my mind— or remembering what she had wanted to ask me about initially— Katie seems to perk up a little bit from her pot-induced zombie phase long enough to mumble, “So what were you jumping around about when you first got in here?”

  I shrug, trying not to blush.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on,” she says, “Spill it.”

  What the hell? I think.

  It’s not like she’s going to remember after a few more hits of weed anyway.

  “All right, fine,” I tell her. “Cameron Sanchez just talked to me. Holy shit.”

  I do a little happy dance again, not even caring how stupid I look.

  “You’ve never talked to him before?” she asks.

  “No. And I’ve been crushing on him hardcore since I started here.”

  “Well, who doesn’t?” she asks.

  “I know, right! He’s so tall, dark and handsome. He’s got that exotic and mysterious look down pat. Like Johnny Depp or Antonio Banderas.”

  I add this last part to wake her up again, since I know she likes movies. But she has already taken another hit and is drifting back off to near sleep.

  “He’s definitely the most underrated partner and could double for Antonio Banderas,” Katie agrees.

  I guess my actor references worked.

  “And he’s a lot more down to earth than Asher, who walks around acting like he’s the only hot guy in the place.”

  “I know, right!” I tell Katie, glad someone else agrees.

  “Except for today,” I tell her. “Cameron is walking around pretty upset today. He was saying something about losing an argument in court.”

  “Wow, I don’t think he ever loses,” Katie says.

  “I know. I guess this judge is biased.”

  I rap my fingers along the accordion file I’d just picked up off the shelf before dumping it into the cart with the rest of the files.

  “So now they have to file motions in all of these cases, to get rid of him.”

  “Being a lawyer sounds so awful,” Katie says, as she lays her head up against the metal shelf.

  She sets her vape pen down beside her, finally finished.

  I agree with her. I don’t plan to be at the law firm of Marks, Sanchez and Reed very long but it’s a stepping stone to my new future. The Ruby Mansfield I want to be doesn’t admit this to co-workers though— even if it’s just Katie. And even if I did just admit to her that I wish I could be with Cameron.

  Whatever. She basically admitted the same thing to me.

  Katie is drifting off again but she opens an eye and says, “Do you know that Asher Marks and Madilyn St. Clair are together?”

  “Sure,” I tell her. “Everyone knows that.”

  I was barely here for a whole minute when I heard the gossip that Asher always chooses a favorite associate to mentor in more ways than one and that this year his pet is Madilyn.

  “No, I mean, they’re like really really together,” she says. “Like, for real for once.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her, but she’s almost asleep.

  “The real deal,” is the only thing I can make out from her mumbles.

  “Well, this is the last of the red stars,” I say, pointing to the stacks of folders featuring my sticky notes.

  I shrug and then I precariously place a folder on top of a pile balancing on the cart.

  “Guess I have to go see Cameron again so I can drop these off to him. Poor me.”

  I fake sniffle.

  Katie tries to laugh a bit, but her eyes are nearly closed.

  “Wake me up if anything important happens,” she says. “And good luck with your dream guy.”

  Dream guy indeed, I think, as I push the heavy cart towards Cameron’s office.

  I only wish such dreams could come true.

  Chapter 4 – Cameron

  Just when I thought today couldn’t possibly get any worse, my secretary is quitting on me. The one that I’ve had for over twenty fucking years.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask her, as she stands in front of my desk wearing a floral pattern dress leftover from the 70’s and a somber expression newly plastered on her face.

  I’ve only ever known Shirley to be a bright, cheerful lady who brings me my coffee to drink every morning and my perfectly proofread letters to sign every afternoon before she leaves. I never thought she would up and quit on me.

  I hear someone clear their throat at the door to my office and I look up to see Ruby standing there with a cart full of files in front of her.

  Even though I’m in the worst mood than I can remember being in for a very long fucking time, it lifts my spirts to see Ruby’s perky yet large breasts and her smiling yet slightly sarcastic looking expression. I love how she never seems to take anything around here too seriously. Because everyone else— including me— has the tendency to take it way too fucking seriously.

  “Sorry, Mr. Sanchez,” she says, bowing her head slightly. I like how she does that too. “I was just dropping off these files you wanted, but I could come back.”

  “That’s fine, Ruby,” I tell her. “You can arrange them on the credenza there.”

  I nod across the way and she walks through my door still looking rather hesitant.

  If it were anyone else, I would tell them to please come back later. Or I’d probably ask them why they’re bothering me with files that should go to a secretary. But I have a feeling that Ruby wants to be in my office. And I want her to be here too.

  She is the one little ray of fucking sunshine in this otherwise miserable downpour of a day. One look at those blue eyes and I know that the storm will be over soon.

  “Now, Shirley,” I say again. “Where were we? Oh yes. How can you possibly be up and leaving me like this?

  “I’m sorry,” she says, for what has to be the fifth time. “But my husband is retiring and wants to move to Florida.”

  “Florida?” I explode. “Why Florida? Does he want to get eaten by alligators? Swept away in a hurricane? Because that’s the only fate that awaits him in Florida.”

  Her eyes widen and Ruby clears her throat, more subtly than she did when she was at the door. I realize I
may have gone a bit overboard in my reaction to the news of her departure. I sneak a peek at Ruby in an effort to try to calm myself down.

  She’s reaching over the cart to line some folders up on the credenza and her ass looks so good. She’s also looking back at me with her eyebrows raised, as if to tell me to be nice to Shirley.

  I know she’s right. There’s no need for me to poke fun at an entire state just because I’m upset that my secretary is fucking leaving me.

  “I’m sorry, Shirley,” I tell my secretary. “I’m sure there are some pleasant things about Florida. The beaches. The sun. The other…”

  Ruby clears her throat. She turns around again and shoots me a look as if I’m being bad.

  I was going to say “other old people” but that’s obviously offensive. Sometimes I don’t think enough before I fucking open my mouth, especially when I’m in the heat of the moment. Ruby seems to know this about me even though I barely know anything about her.

  Perhaps I’ll have to change that.

  “…retirees,” I finish. “But I thought I had another five years left of having you as my secretary. You’re only…”

  I trail off again, without Ruby even having to clear her throat this time. I was going to guess sixty-five, but for all I know Shirley could be eighty. And her age is beside the point. All that matters is that I need my coffee and my typed up and proofread letters and I don’t know who else is going to bring them to me every day.

  “…celebrating twenty years of working here,” I quickly finish.

  “Twenty years is a long time,” Shirley says, as if to say that I should have known she could leave any day now. “And I was trying to decide how to tell you. It was a very difficult thing to do.”

  “And you decided you just had to tell me now, today of all days? When I just…”

  Took a pounding in court, I want to say, but don’t. I never admit defeat in front of my subordinates. It only makes me look weak. And I’m certainly not going to admit it in front of Ruby.

  “I know, I know, Mr. Sanchez,” Shirley says, shaking her head.

  She looks down at the floor instead of up at me.

  “I didn’t want to have to do it at all and especially not today of all days,” she finally continues. “But it’s the last day I can put in my two-week notice before…”

  “Before what?” I ask her, since now it’s her turn to trail off.

  “Before we have to leave for Florida,” she tells me. “Winston bought a condo and we have to be down there to do a walk-through inspection in two weeks.”

  “Who’s Winston?” I ask her, picturing one of those wiener dogs.

  “He’s my husband,” she says, looking very offended.

  Ruby shoots me another shocked look.

  Oh yeah. Winston is her husband. That makes sense. I know I should know that after all these years. Not to mention from the context of our conversation. But I’m a little distracted due to constantly looking at Ruby’s ass.

  And Shirley barely ever talks about her husband or anyone at all really. She just does her work. Makes my life easier. And that’s why I’m going to miss her.

  “Who’s going to bring me my coffee?” I ask Shirley. “And my legal letters and pleadings and briefs?”

  “Mr. Sanchez, I’m sure you can find someone else to do those things,” Shirley says, smiling shyly, obviously pleased with the fact that I need her. “Mr. Marks said that Madilyn can start interviewing suitable replacements right away.”

  “Asher knows about this?” I ask her.

  I don’t know what I feel more betrayed about— the fact that she informed Asher before she told me or the fact that Asher didn’t tell me as soon as he knew.

  “I told HR first,” she says, taking a step back as if she fears she did something wrong. “And they told me to let the managing partner know right away so that he can begin making arrangements.”

  I do my best not to grind my teeth. The term “managing partner” is enough to drive me nuts. Fucking Asher thinking he’s in charge of everything. Fucking HR apparently agrees with him.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sanchez…” Shirley says, wringing her hands together as if she’s distraught.

  “Shirley, it’s fine,” I tell her, letting out a sigh.

  She looks up at me as if she’s trying to figure out if I really mean it.

  “I’m grateful for all your help over these past two decades and if you want to leave me for the beaches and sunny skies of Florida, by all means, you deserve to be happy.”

  She smiles at me, and even Ruby can’t help but turn around and grin at me.

  I can be charming when I fucking want to be charming. And it’s not Shirley’s fault that everyone views this firm as only Asher’s when it’s also mine.

  “I just don’t know where I’m going to find another secretary as good as you,” I tell her, and I can’t help but glance over one more time at Ruby.

  “Well, Boss, they’re all done,” she says, gesturing to the files neatly arranged on my credenza.

  I have no idea what I’m going to do with those fucking things. Normally I would give them to my secretary but she just quit on me and I doubt she’s in the mood to move a bunch of files I just asked Ruby to put there.

  “Thank you, Ruby,” I tell her, distracted by the way she calls me “Boss.”

  I like it.

  I like it a little bit too fucking much.

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Shirley says.

  As Ruby walks out of my office I can’t help but think that maybe I already have.

  Chapter 5 – Ruby

  THE NEXT DAY

  When I sit down at the shared floater computer to find out my assignments for the day, a new email notification pops up on the screen. The subject is intra-firm memorandum, so I click on it.

  Dear Firm,

  We are saddened to have to say goodbye to Cameron Sanchez’ assistant Shirley but we wish her all the best in retirement in Florida.

  I pause here and giggle to myself, thinking of Cameron’s comments yesterday. Then I keep reading.

  We are going to be hiring a new assistant for Cameron and we would like to do it quickly so that Shirley can train her replacement before she leaves. This is an official call to all law firm staff who are interested in applying for the position and advancing from within. We will also be interviewing applicants from outside the firm but we wanted to give first opportunity to members of our firm. Madilyn St. Clair is forming a hiring committee for this task and they will begin interviewing interested candidates tomorrow at 9:00 am in Conference Room B. The sooner we can find the right person for Mr. Sanchez, the better.

  Sincerely yours,

  The Law Firm of Marks, Sanchez and Reed.

  I stare at the phrase that talks about finding “the right person for Mr. Sanchez.”

  I shake my head and tell myself to forget about it. I have no experience as a legal assistant other than the few weeks I’ve been working here doing menial tasks as a floater. There’s no reason they’d hire me.

  And it’s not like me to even want to apply. I’m no ambitious go-getter. I’m just here to pay my bills and line up my new future. I can’t be calling attention to myself, either. I need to just keep my head down and stay under the radar.

  I switch to the firm calendar and check my tasks for the day.

  Oh great.

  I’ve been assigned to babysit Mr. Mack again. He’s a 93-year-old partner who has lost most of his memory and is half senile. But he’s been here since the firm started and he insists on coming to the office every day. He has nothing better to do.

  He can’t drive or do anything else for himself. That means I have to go pick him up, bring him back to the office, bring him a newspaper and his Earl Grey tea and check in on him as he sits there half reading his newspaper all day.

  He brings his little Chihuahua named Ted. And he falls asleep more often than Katie does.

  Then I take him home. The only good part about the da
ys when I’m assigned to Mr. Mack is that I get to go home early because he likes to be driven home at three thirty so he can watch Judge Judy at four o’clock. Apparently, he’s been a diehard Judge Judy fan for longer than he’s been a partner here at the firm.

  I carry out my tasks for the day, quite sure this is one of the most boring days ever. At one point, Mr. Mack calls me into his office yelling, “Ruby! Ruby!” hysterically.

  “Yes?” I ask, afraid he might be dying.

  This is it, I think. Of course, he’s going to kick the bucket on my watch. I hope they don’t fire me for not somehow managing to keep him alive.

  But instead he just points at a picture in the newspaper.

  “Do you know this person?” he asks me.

  His bony finger is crooked and accusatory.

  “No.”

  I shake my head.

  Ted barks at me as if he doesn’t trust my answer. But I’ve never seen the guy before.

  “This was the first President of the University of New Mexico School of Law and he just passed away,” Mr. Mack says.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him.

  “I’m sorry?” he says, cupping a hand to his hear. “I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

  “I said I’m sorry,” I practically yell.

  “Don’t be,” he says. “He was a dick.”

  I do my best to suppress my laughter, not that I think Mr. Mack would be able to hear it. The word around the firm is that Mr. Mack is quite the dick himself.

  “Do you know that I was in the first graduating class at UNM Law School?” he asks me.

  “No,” I tell him. “I didn’t know that.”

  “There was only one woman in my class,” he tells me, looking me up and down, as if to let me know he doesn’t approve of my kind. “And she wasn’t smart enough to graduate with the rest of the class. So, no women graduated with me.”

  “I see,” I tell him, not sure how to respond to that. During comments like this I’ve begun to see why people say he’s a dick. “Did you need anything else, Mr. Mack?”

  He shrugs.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s nearly noon,” I tell him.

  “Not time for Judge Judy then, I guess,” he says, looking out the window as if he wishes he could go home. Perhaps he thinks he’s a prisoner in the law firm he insists on coming to every day.