As if sensing my stare, he turns, and in what I can only call a theatrical move drops his glass. Thankfully, it doesn’t shatter. I panic. God, have I popped a boob or something? Nope, the girls are good. Why is he looking at me like he’s seen a ghost or his worst nightmare? Even more scowls on his forehead. This is going to be a long night. He stalks toward me.
I smooth my hands down my dress and press a manufactured smile on my lips.
One second I’m standing there wondering if I can beat it upstairs with a bowl of shrimp. The next, his hand is on the small of my back, and I’m hauled against his chest. I tip my head back in surprise, my hands on his chest. Lust and danger lurk in the dark depths of his eyes. My toes curl and my breath hitches. His sinful mouth is on mine, crushing, possessive. I moan at the taste of him—whiskey and mint. Damn. My heart is racing; blood sparkles in my veins and heads to points of interest in my body, mainly my chest and core. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. I’m panting, damp in all the wrong places, and I must be coming down with a fever. I’m boiling from the inside out. Thank God my lipstick is the waterproof and guarantees to stick for twelve plus hours.
There’s no way I can deny his kisses don’t electrify me. I do feel it when he kisses me. I feel him everywhere, stamping me with his brand.
“Asia,” he breathes.
“That’s me,” I squeak out, my voice breathy.
Great. Now I’m helium Barbie.
“That dress. Your hair. Fuck,” he grinds out.
My heart sinks literally to the bottom of my feet. “You don’t like the dress or my hair?”
“The dress is gorgeous. You’re beautiful. You could have a mudpack on your face and curler things in your hair, and you’d still outshine every woman on the planet.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks. “You dress up pretty good yourself.” I touch his bow tie. “It matches my dress.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ve never seen you wear anything but black. You have the whole Professor Snape thing going on.”
He peers down at me. “I think Professor Snape is very underrated.” He squeezes my waist. “You know how I feel about public displays of affection.”
“Ah.”
Little nicks like paper cuts to my heart. And here I was thinking he’d done something for us when it is only for show. Honestly, when will I ever learn? I heave out a sigh.
A warm hand cups my chin until I’m forced to look at him. “I did it for us,” he says in a quiet firm tone.
“But there isn’t an us.” My heart canters.
“There is tonight.” His laser eyes bore into mine.
We twirl past people as Jason guides me expertly around the dance floor. The man can dance, and I basically hold on. He’s bossy even on the dance floor. Tonight, I’m Cinderella, and I’m going to enjoy this one night of being held like I matter. We dance past people I can see in my periphery, a blur of color and dark tuxedoes, but I only have eyes for one man.
Air pulses with high end scent and exotic flowers, the murmur of chatter a backdrop to a velvet voice singing, ‘Moon River’.
After three songs, I’m breathless.
“I need to stop and breathe,” I huff out. “Unlike you, I, sadly, don’t have a gym membership, nor do I run. I think about doing a star jump, get tired, then sit down.”
Jason chuckles then guides me to a quiet corner of the room.
“You don’t need a gym membership.” His gaze rakes down my frame. “I’ll be back with a glass of wine.”
I’m standing watching my boss’s firm ass disappear into the crowd. I’m partially hidden by a Roman pillar when I overhear a conversation between a group of women.
“Dear God. Did you see them dancing? They look ridiculous. He’s so tall, and she’s short, really short, and curvy.”
“Don’t get me started on the dress. Vera Wang, it isn’t. It’s like she’s going to the prom. She looks fifteen.”
I look down at my beautiful dress, and tears prick my eyes.
“Who is she, anyway?”
“She’s not his type at all. Doesn’t matter, it won’t last. She’d never cut it as a corporate wife. He’ll ditch her like he’s ditched every other woman.”
I lean in even though I shouldn’t because nothing good ever happens when eavesdropping.
“It’s rumored the love of his life died. He’s never gotten over it, apparently. This engagement is only to throw off his grandmother. He’ll pay this Asia off, and she’ll slip quietly away.”
An arrow of hurt pierces my chest, and I suck in a painful breath that lodges in my throat. The bitches have it in one. That is exactly what we’re doing. Playing a game, passing go, and collecting a house for him and money for me.
They are right on all counts. Jason and I would never work. We’re different people from different walks of life wanting different things. All I know about him is he has wicked nightmares, has a soul he’s hiding, wants this tomb of a house he can’t seem to stand, and apparently lost the love of his life.
This is a clusterfuck of gigantic proportions.
But that kiss? The dropped glass? The predatory way he looked at me. Did I imagine all of it?
I square my shoulders and go in search of the source. I stop short when I find Jason dancing and laughing with a beautiful blond who has corporate written all over her and is exactly his type.
A little green arrow pierces my heart, which I shrug off. Sort of.
Wait. Is that a diamond tiara?
I down a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, contemplating my next move, when a friendly face appears in the crowd, and I beam. It’s the blond, surfer bartender who mixes a wicked lemon drop martini, and he’s walking toward me, smiling.
“Care to dance, beautiful?” He takes the glass of champagne from my hand and gives it to a passing server.
“Asia. My name is Asia.” I look into his smiling blue eyes, then smile back.
“I know.”
My brow crinkles. “How?” Considering this is the first time I’ve left the great state of California or stepped foot on a plane, I have no idea how he’d know me. I didn’t even pay for my drinks the night in the bar.
“When someone as beautiful as you walks into my bar, I have to know who they are. My name is Alex, by the way. Alex Wilson.”
The blue of his eyes are sapphire with little crinkly lines at the side. The man smiles a lot, and his forehead is smooth. No lines of torture digging into his forehead.
“I’m engaged,” I remind him.
“We’ll see.” He doesn’t twirl me around the dance floor but holds me close, his hand at the bottom of my spine.
It’s nice, but something’s missing.
Something being the paw of a hand that lands on my shoulder.
“Asia.” His voice purrs in my ear, and goosebumps cascade across my body. As usual, my disloyal nipples harden into bullet points. “A word.”
“We aren’t done here,” I say. Now Alex’s forehead crinkles.
The hand on my shoulder flexes, and I look into seething black eyes.
“I’m not a fire hydrant.” I shrug out of Jason’s hand. “I’ll finish the dance with Alex.”
Good Lord, I’ve woken a dragon. Jason all but snorts fire. I feel his glare as we slow dance. I mean, I’d rather they put on something like ‘Disco Duck’, but I said I’d finish out the dance. I didn’t notice they were playing ‘Let’s Get It On’. I don’t just feel Jason’s glare, it’s branding my skin, burning through my outer layers, and entering my bloodstream.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Asia.”
“You scrub up pretty good, bartender Alex.” He’s gorgeous in a tux, snowy white shirt, and a bow tie which matches his highlighter-blue eyes. The song ends, and I extract myself from his arms.
“It’s bar owner Alex, and if you ever need anything, you know where I am.”
“I do,” I whisper. “Thank you.” He looks behind me. “You’re a lucky man,” he says,
then melts into the crowd.
“Asia.” I’m pulled into Jason’s chest. His hand on the bottom of my spine. “Don’t bait me.”
My pulse thuds in my ears. “You left me for twenty minutes. When I went looking for the wine you promised, I found you dancing with a blond who is your type, laughing, and having a great old time.”
We come to a halt in the middle of the dance floor. Bodies brush against ours. Jason’s eyes are wide, and a grin tugs at his mouth. “Were you jealous?”
“No,” I huff out, hating that my cheeks are heating.
“I was working. Ona Lombard is thinking of selling her warehouse complex, and I want in on the deal.”
“You’re working?”
Why am I not surprised? He’s always got some deal going on. Most I know, some I don’t. Same with his social and business calendar. It then hits me like a brick being dropped from a bridge. I’ll never know this man. He’ll only let me into parts of his life on his terms.
“Of course. I’m always working; there’s always something going on in my head.”
“Can I ask you something?”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
His eyes narrow. “What about?”
“I overheard tonight that you lost the love of your life, and you’ve never gotten over it. Is this true? The talk is this engagement is only to throw off your grandmother, which it is. People were laughing at us because we look ridiculous, which we do. It’s like your basketball tall, and I’m gymnast short. My dress is terrible, and I’ll never cut it in your world.”
I close my eyes and press my forehead against his pec. His heart beats slow and steady. No galloping heart for him. I, on the other hand, have sprinted a marathon. I don’t know why all of that spewed out of me.
“That’s quite a lot to get through.” He leads me to a corner of the room. I see the raised eyebrows, the confusion, the shy smiles of couples.
“Sorry about not getting your wine earlier.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, which causes my heart to pound, and creates tingles in places that shouldn’t be tingling.
“Your dress is lovely. I believe you could cut it in any world, Asia Brown. You are strong, and resilient.” Another tuck of hair and more tingles. I hold my breath at the sincerity in his eyes. “I can’t make myself shorter, nor can you grow; you are perfect just the way you are. And don’t listen to gossip because women are jealous of you. As for my grandmother, we are here pretending to be fiancés. We both have the end game in sight, right?”
His words are a riot in my head. He thinks I’m strong and resilient.
That sounds like industrial glue.
I have been trying to grow taller for years, but I topped out at five one and a bit. No amount of hanging upside down as a child made any difference.
And we are here for the end game. To help get Jamaica into rehab and open a little boutique where I can sell my dresses.
I swallow over the sadness coating my throat.
“Got it,” I whisper. “Here for the end game.”
I plaster a fake smile on my face. Jason takes my hand and introduces me to people I will never remember. My dress is admired, and Jason’s hand is firm in mine.
Hours later and with a flash of clarity, I stop and wobble in my shoes. He never answered me about the love of his life dying.
Chapter Fourteen
Jason
The only time I’ve been mute in my life was after James died, when I couldn’t speak, and tonight, when I could, but my tongue tied when Asia walked toward me. A vision in a green dress that nipped at her tiny waist then flared out at her hips. A nervous smile on her lovely face. Her dark brown hair a river of captivating ringlets down her back.
I’ve taken on moguls in the boardroom, boarding school bullies. Hell, I’d take on the Bills mafia dressed in my Patriots gear, but at the sight of my assistant/fake fiancée walking toward me, I was slain. The room became mute. There had been something in my hand. Like being pulled with an invisible thread, I reeled her in until I breathed in vanilla and coconut, and the cramp holding my shoulders rigid, dissolved. I did what any man would do with the most beautiful girl in the room—I’d laid one on her without caring who was looking. Biggest public display of affection ever, and I didn’t give a shit. I’m putting it down to hormones. I’d noticed heads swiveling when Asia entered. One in particular. I’ll be having words with the bartender later. I knew exactly what he wanted to do with my assistant/fake fiancée.
So, I’d kissed her. She melted into me like butter, and fuck if I didn’t like it. Again, and again I had to remind myself and her of the end game here, so I reminded her and watched wistfulness sweep across her delicate features for an instant, but she’d tilted her determined little chin and nodded. If I thought for one minute I could give her more than sex, I would. But the truth is, I don’t have it in me, and she deserves way better than me.
I grab a glass of champagne from the sea of servers and pass it to Asia.
“You’ve gone quiet.” I peer down at her. Something is working behind those eyes. “What’s up?” I literally rub my hands together. A problem I can solve.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier.” She takes a sip of champagne, then puts the flute down.
I scan my memory bank. A lot of words had come out of her mouth. I frown, then it hits home.
“I didn’t lose the love of my life and haven’t gotten over it.”
I love my brother and always will, but having the great love of my life isn’t in the cards for me. Never has been, never will.
Just when I think I can’t be surprised, my minx of an assistant goes on tippy-toes, winds her arms around my neck and kisses me like she’s testing the waters. She is testing something, and it’s my resolve to not haul her over my shoulder totally caveman-style and drag her upstairs and bury myself in her sweet, tight body.
I cup her face and dive in. Her lips are sweet pillows and fit mine perfectly. She climbs on my feet, and I groan, pulling her closer. When she melts against me, my dick, which has been a semi since she walked in the room, is solid. I grind into her, and fuck me if she doesn’t grind back. A discreet cough stops me. I pull away, panting, horny, exasperated, and stare into her liquid hazy eyes. Her nipples are begging for my tongue they are so hard. My blood is pounding, and I swear I can feel my pulse in my poor cock.
“Jason.” I hear from a far-off galaxy. “Please join me on stage.”
My grandmother’s cheeks are pink, and her eyes are shiny as she gazes between Asia and me.
“Of course.” I adjust myself as discreetly as I can. It’s hard to hide a raging boner in a tux.
“Still not feeling it,” Asia whispers, pressing fingers to her lips.
“I’ll have to prove it to you.” I grin at her widened eyes and pink ears. She’s adorable. “Please stay here and away from blond fucker bar owners,” I growl. She grins.
I join my grandmother on the stage as she goes through the thank you’s before handing the mic to me.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. I’m delighted to introduce my fiancée, Asia Brown.” Polite applause. “Asia, would you join me on stage please, my love?”
My gaze falls to where she stands and locks on her startled face in a crowd of hundreds. I’d know where she is at a skunk convention. Her scent is mesmerizing.
She moves hesitantly through the crowd, her face pale. I take her hand and help her up the stairs where I continue to hold her trembling hand.
“I’ve heard some strange things tonight, and I’d like to let people know I’m deeply in love with Asia. I love how tiny she is. I fit her just fine.” Asia’s hand convulses around mine, and she hisses my name.
“Yes, this is a whirlwind romance, but when I met her, I knew she was the one for me.” I gaze down into her startled face. “Sometimes, you just know.” I soften my voice. “And with Asia, I just knew.”
Asia’s eyes go all dreamy.
She’s into playacting. Awesome.
“Thank you, Jason. I’m looking forward to being a great-grandmother.” Gran beams from beside me.
I help Asia off the stage. Her smile is so plastic her cheeks must ache. She’s vibrating next to me with obvious anger. Why? I don’t know. I thought my speech hit home perfectly. Stop the gossip about her and give a lovebird speech that my grandmother adored by the look of her shining eyes and soft smile.
“Stay here,” I say to her when my grandmother nods to me from across the room.
“I’m not a puppy!” she hisses. “I’ll go where I want.”
I shove my hands in my pockets, my jaw aching from my back molars being fused.
An hour later, the guests are dwindling. It’s past midnight, and I can’t find my Cinderella anywhere. My heart rate picks up as I look for my tiny assistant. There’s only one place she can be. I jog up the stairs and throw open the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Asia
I yelp when Jason throws open the door to our room. I’m halfway between the bathroom and the door, wrapped in a white towel, clutching my bright pink Lovehoney pleasurer in front of me. The plan had been to rub one out in the shower, so the lust eating me alive would dial down a touch. I had thought, stupidly, that Jason would be away while I discreetly got myself off. Or not discreetly, depending on the fantasy.
Jason’s eyes zero in on the seven inches of silicone. How could he not? I’m holding it like I’m about to lick it, which I was totally going to do, imagining it as the man in front of me.
Please let a giant sinkhole swallow me whole right now.
His eyes are liquid and rake over the towel which barely covers my butt, then back to the vibrator.
Bound to her Fake Fiancé Boss: A Fun Sexy Feel Good Billionaire Office Romance Page 11