Mr. Hired Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 4) Read online

  “Can we please just go?” I ask, instead. “You want me to have fun? Fine. I’m game. Let’s go play pool or darts or something.”

  “Pool or darts?” Sebastien studies me incredulously.

  We look completely different even though we share the same mom. We both took Ted’s last name, but as far as similarities, that’s where it ends. Our personalities are different for sure, but physically, we look nothing alike, either. Unfortunately, I know I got my bronzed skin and olive undertone from my dad. He had dark black hair and dark eyes like me. But I’m taller than he ever was, at least from what I remember. I’m a few inches over six feet and built like I could be a football star, although I never played since I was always busy ‘fooling around with computers and doing boring shit’, as Sebastien used to say. Sebastien has paler skin, blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair. He looks like Ted more than he looks like my mom. He’s tall like me but slimmer—not built like an athlete at all. Despite that, he’s very good looking, and he can rock a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt far better than I can.

  For the record, we’re pretty much matching tonight, outfit wise, except Sebastien paired his with a pair of red and white canvas shoes while I went for the classic, office-y, square-toed, black leather deal.

  I look out of place, I feel out of place, and I want to leave.

  “What’s wrong with darts?”

  “Are you eighty? That’s what’s wrong with darts.”

  “Lots of people like darts.”

  “Maybe we should go play shuffleboard.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  Sebastien grins at me. He’s nursing some kind of mixed soda and hard alcohol drink that probably tastes like piss and costs a fortune, but he doesn’t seem to mind. On the other hand, I’m nursing nothing but my own desperation to get the hell out of here and back to my basement, where I’m comfortable and have the space to do something I’m actually good at.

  “Oh, look.” Sebastien whips his head to the side, but then whirls back and leans in. “No. Don’t look. That’s bad. Too obvious. There’s a good looking lady over there who’s been checking you out for a few minutes. At least five.”

  “Why?” I ask flatly. I didn’t actually think Sebastien was serious about people who aren’t gay coming here to pick people up. Shows how much I know. I know it probably makes me sound like an asshole, but I’m not. I just never go out. So I seriously had no idea.

  “Why?” Sebastien bumps me with his elbow. “Because you’re a good looking, single guy, that’s why.”

  “You dragged me out,” I protest. “I’m not here to meet someone.”

  “You don’t have to meet, meet her. You could just flirt a little. Or let her flirt. Have a drink. Be nice. Be friendly. Maybe take her home after.”

  “Definitely not doing that.”

  Sebastien nods. “You only dated dried up old prunes when you actually dated. Those women weren’t nice from the start. But this girl looks nice. She seems sweet.”

  “You can tell all that from across the room?”

  “Of course. She’s with her friend, and he’s gay. She probably came with him because everyone hates going out alone. She’s not the kind who hooks up. I was kidding about that. And I can tell because I’ve done enough people watching here to know the difference. She’d probably like to go out for coffee sometime. Or a nice dinner. She’s that kind of girl. A nice girl. The kind who, you know, wouldn’t use you for your money, break up with you, and then try and take you for a fuck ton of cash.”

  “Stop,” I warn.

  “You can’t let a few bad experiences ruin everything for you.”

  “It was just one.”

  “Well, there you go. She doesn’t look like the type. She seems nice.”

  “No.”

  “She does…”

  “Just no. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to date. I don’t want to go out for coffee. And I can have a nice dinner alone. I’m happy where I’m at. I came out tonight because you pestered the shit out of me and begged until I nearly lost my sanity. I’m here to make you happy, not because I want to be, and definitely not to talk to anyone, nice or not.”

  “Oooh, she’s coming over. And her friend too. I wonder if he’s single. He’s good looking.”

  “Fuck.” When I frantically look over Sebastien’s shoulder, I can see that he’s right. Both about the said woman being quite beautiful and about the fact that she’s currently coming this way.

  I debate the merits of escaping to the bathroom, wherever it is, but then I decide a club’s bathroom isn’t a place I’d want to go no matter what. I don’t smoke, so I can’t escape outside, either. Sebastien would also never forgive me if I just bailed on him, so that leaves me with no option other than to just stand here.

  And wait.

  And marvel privately, because wow. The nameless goddess closing in on us has long, cinnamon hued hair, green eyes, and a bone structure that would put most models to shame. She’s tall too. The emerald green dress she has on isn’t that tight, but it does a good job of silhouetting some killer curves and fuller breasts.

  Yeah, so I noticed. My cock kind of noticed too. But whatever. Neither of us has seen a lot of action lately, and we prefer it that way. Well, at least I do. My dick might not be in agreement, but I’ve never given him any say in the matter. I have way too much at stake when it comes to businesses and assets to protect—oh and myself too because who actually likes to be used by someone else—to let anything but my brain be the decision-maker.

  Right now, my said brain is finding it hard to think clearly. And that’s before the pair steps into my personal space, and I get a full inhale of a decidedly feminine scent. Jasmine, I think. I’ve never liked the smell of perfume before, but this scent is so delicate and gentle that I find my head spinning.

  “Hey,” the guy—my brother is right, he is pretty good looking and athletic with the classic style handsome looks—says. He winks at Sebastien. Sebastien actually blushes. I’ve never known my brother to play hard to get, but he clears his throat almost immediately.

  “I’m going to get a drink. I’ll be back.”

  He leaves me stranded there, just like that. What. The. Fuck?

  “H-hey…” I manage to croak, but only because the goddess is currently studying her black flats.

  “I know this might sound kind of crazy,” the guy starts. “But trust me, we’re not drunk. I was wondering if you’d hear us out.”

  “Uh, alright.” It’s not like I have another option. Sebastien is at the bar across from where I’m standing near the wall. He’s busy watching me while pretending not to be busy doing anything at all but waiting for a drink.

  “So, my friend here, long story short, needs a fake date for a few days. She’s willing to pay two thousand dollars for four days, but two of them are travel days. Road trip to a small town. Go to her sister’s wedding as her date. Satisfy her parents that she’s not single. End of story. Do you want to make two thousand dollars?”

  I’m sorry, what? I stand there staring for a few seconds because I’m sure I didn’t just hear that right. Who just approaches someone at a bar and asks them to do something like this? Travel with her on a road trip? Meet her parents? Fake date? This isn’t just crazy. It’s dangerous for her. I want to say something indignant or at least attempt to educate the pair on how terrible their idea is when the guy starts up again.

  “I can tell you think we are actually drunk even though I said we’re not. Or that we might be crazy, but we’re not, either. Desperate, yes. We’re aware you might actually be a creep, but I don’t think so. You look like the club isn’t your scene, which probably means you’re kind of shy and either can’t meet people any other way, or you got dragged here by your friend over there. If that’s the case then you’re definitely a good guy, and you’re going to be his wingman for the night. Plus, you don’t give off any creepy vibes. My friend absolutely wants to stay single and doesn’t want anyone hitting on her,
so it works out well that you’re not attracted to women. It will ensure there isn’t any room for anything messy. No strings. Two grand. What do you say?”

  I’d say this sounds even crazier than I first thought it did.

  I’d say you’re a terrible judge of character. What does it even mean that I don’t give off creepy vibes? I could still be a horrible person, hell-bent on seduction and murder.

  I’d say that for some terrible reason, this idea is actually growing on me. Sebastien’s right. It’s been too long since I had any fun. This idea has the potential for some serious fun written all over it. I mean, this is a once in a lifetime kind of proposition.

  There are probably a good number of things I could actually say, but all I can do is stand there with a stupefied look of disbelief carved onto my face. I can practically feel my eyes bugging out.

  Jesus. That’s probably kind of scary. I should really blink. Blink, you idiot. You still haven’t blinked. Try. Harder. There. Was that so bad?

  “I…uh…” Great. That’s a great start.

  When would be the appropriate time to tell them I’m not actually gay?

  Oh right. Never. Because I’m not seriously considering this. Am I?

  CHAPTER 3

  Pearl

  “Great. Now this guy thinks we’re super creepy.” I have to cut in. Finally. I should have broken the ice. Offered the guy a drink. Done something other than letting Dean just blurt out the plan of action. I turn away from Dean and face the poor stranger we ambushed. A very good looking stranger, I might add. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m really sorry. About all of this. We’ll just be going now, and you can get on with your night and pretend like this never happened. Any of it.”

  I grab Dean’s arm and tug him around. My face feels like I just tripped and fell straight into a fire. You know. Face first. The last thing I expect is for a deep voice with a wonderfully sexy rasp to cut in right behind me.

  “No, wait. Please.”

  I turn slowly, incredulous. I think the guy probably gets it, given that I think my jaw literally just separated from my face. I actually lift a shaking hand and feel for it. It’s still there. Thank god.

  “I was just surprised. Sorry.” The stranger swallows nervously. I swallow thickly too. Dean tenses beside me, but not the bad kind of tense. Rather, it’s the kind of tense that says he’s ready for something awesome to happen. As in, for this guy to agree to our terrible plan. “Gabriel. Sorry, I’m Gabriel.”

  “Gabs,” Dean blurts.

  “No. Just—just Gabriel, thanks. I think it would be appropriate to be on a first-name basis before we discuss going to your sister’s wedding and declaring our undying love to your parents.”

  “Oh, I—so you’ll actually help me?” I think my level of shock just skyrocketed up a few notches.

  “Of course, he will!” Dean exclaims excitedly. “That’s great. Yeah. Well, I’m going to get a drink as well. I’ll let you two sit down and talk. Or stand here and talk.” He points to the bar like I’m five and as if he can’t let me out of his sight for more than two seconds. “I’ll just be over there.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “You want anything?”

  Yeah. To get the heck out of here and forget this whole idea. I had noticed the look of surprise and something I’d term as close to revulsion on Gabriel’s face when Dean dropped the fake boyfriend bomb on him with absolutely no preamble or warning. Nothing like walking up to someone with a set of brutally cray-cray demands. The poor guy. Now, though, he’s studying me with unfettered interest.

  “Uh, no.” I realize Dean is waiting for a response. “Thanks.”

  He flashes me a thumbs up, unwilling to consider that this wouldn’t work for any reason, and saunters off to the bar. Not the bar where Gabriel’s friend went to. The other bar at the back. Great. He’s probably getting a fuck ton of shots for both of us to celebrate this grand new adventure I’m about to embark on. An adventure of deceit and lies. How great.

  “Did you come up with this plan all by yourself or did your friend help?” Gabriel is eyeing me strangely. It takes me all of one second to figure out he’s now having fun with this. I wonder if he’s just jerking my chain and making fun of me, or if he’s actually serious. I want to bail on this plan more than ever, but I know I can’t leave without Dean.

  Not only did I come in his car, but I was also so distracted that I left my clutch with my phone, my ID, and my money in the car.

  I’m trapped here, at least until Dean gets back.

  I seriously hope he’s not getting shots. I’m so nervous that I could puke already. I don’t need some gross, sugary, nasty alcohol added into the mix.

  “I—sorry. You know what? This was a bad idea. Just—I’m going to go now.” I point behind me. “Have a great night.”

  “No. Really. I’m sorry.” Gabriel apologizes again, though I have no idea what for. It was Dean and me who crashed his night, not the other way around. “I’m not trying to make fun of you. I just find it interesting how you came up with something like that—the story behind it. I’ll do it. Just to be clear, I will. But I am curious. I’m sure we should go over the details.”

  “Yeah—uh—yeah. How’s coffee tomorrow? I can barely hear a thing in here. It’s not a great place to talk.”

  It’s true. The music, like most clubs, is thumping loudly while people writhe to it on and off the dance floor to the left. It’s actually fairly busy inside here, I think. But maybe it gets even more packed regularly. I’ve only been here a few times, and I didn’t really pay much attention. I just knew I had room to walk around, and there weren’t very many people, so it wasn’t sweltering or stifling or claustrophobic the way some clubs get.

  “Coffee?” Gabriel’s brows shoot up.

  “Or something else if you prefer. If you don’t like coffee.”

  “No. Coffee is great.” Gabriel studies me openly, and I study him back.

  The fact that he’s as delicious looking as a perfectly toasted s'more oozing chocolatey goodness and marshmallow wonderfulness doesn’t help my nervousness. I like s'mores, okay? I know he’s not into women, but still. He’s so beautiful—with his rich, bronzed skin, dark hair, eyes so big and velvety soft, and a body made to match the perfectly proportioned, symmetric face—that it’s frying wires in my brain. I can practically smell the burning.

  Okay, so I’m attracted to him. Physically. I know he’s gay, but my lady bits—namely, the old V-box and my nipples—aren’t listening to that argument. They just see a guy who is built like a tank with broad shoulders, probably abs for days hidden under his white button-down shirt, and cheekbones that could be used to cut a glass display case in a robbery, and they are lighting up with interest.

  It’s been two years since I last saw any action, okay? I don’t believe in toys. And I don’t believe in guys, because most of them—all of the ones I’ve ever been with—are complete douche bags who bang mysterious women in your bed. Oh, and steal your credit card. And download porn and a bunch of viruses onto your brand new, expensive work laptop, and forget to water your plants, and complain about your cat, and fuck with your heart, and yadda, yadda. You get the picture.

  “Okay. Should I give you my number? Or should I get yours? Or both?”

  I sigh after I blurt that out because now I sound as desperate as I felt when I spilled all my doubts and insecurities to Dean a few days ago. But Dean did come up with said plan shortly after. I might have been complaining about my parents. About how exhausted I feel with them asking me if I’m still single. About how I’m so scared I’m going to ruin my sister’s wedding because they’ll be so focused on that. I might have been having a bit of a pity party.

  “Both.” Gabriel smiles softly.

  Not a grin. No, he’s not mocking me. He’s smiling at me like he’s actually interested in doing this. Like he’s not just going to get my number and give it to some trashy guy on the street as a joke. Like he’s not going to ditch me when I call because ye
ah, that’s funny too. Like he’s not going to play games of any kind. Like he’s actually serious about going through with this. Like he doesn’t think I’m crazy.

  “You’re…you’re actually serious?” I have to ask it, just to be sure. I really can’t believe anyone would get on board with this. “I mean, two thousand dollars isn’t a lot.”

  “Let’s just say I have a keen sense of adventure. I was recently told I should get out there, have some fun, and try new things. I haven’t done a lot of that lately, and I’d like to get out of the city. You also seem nice. In a bind, yes. A little bit desperate, probably. But I’m intrigued.”

  I can feel my eyes narrowing as my heart starts beating harder. Now I feel like he is making fun of me with a straight face. “I don’t want to be a story. This is my life here, and I’m serious about this. I feel like if I don’t bring a date, my sister’s whole wedding could be ruined. I don’t want to explain all of that now. But if you’re using me for a good time, or if you think there’s some crazy, wild story to get out of this, then I need to find someone else. You’re not a reporter, are you?”

  “No. I’m not a reporter.” That earns me another smile. Not a patronizing or mocking one, but a real one.

  “I—I…”

  “You need someone, and I could use a weekend away. I haven’t had a vacation in a very long time. Also, you seem nice, your friend seems nice, and this is the most original idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “You don’t read romances? They’re always full of stories like this—fake dates and whatnot. Dean, my best friend—the guy who was just with me—reads tons of them. It’s probably where he got the idea. It’s really not that strange. I guess. People pay for companionship all the time.” As soon as I tack that bit on, my face goes scarlet. I can literally feel the blood surging to my cheeks.