Mr. Hired Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss 4)

Pearl actually stops rambling long enough to gasp for breath and take a big sip of her drink to wet her mouth. I stay silent for a few minutes. Mostly because she talked about sharing a bed together (yes, I know, platonically), and now my cock is thinking about sharing a bed with her, and he’s all for it. No, I’m not thinking about doing anything improper or making a move or bullshit like that. I’m a guy, and Pearl is beautiful, so my dick magically jumps to conclusions and sends racy images to my brain. I can’t help it. I would never do anything about it, and I do feel bad about even having thoughts like that.

“I’m not going to bail.” I take another long pull of the delicious coffee and look Pearl straight in the eye.

“You’re not? You…you actually think we can pull this off?”

“I’m not sure about that, but I am sure I’m not going to change my mind. I’m in.”

“Wow,” she breathes. “You must really need the money.”

“Maybe I just want to do something nice for someone. My good deed for the year.”

Pearl rolls her eyes, but she does manage a slight smile. “Thanks. Nice to know I’m someone’s good deed. That sounds horrible, by the way. I guess I brought it on myself, though. I feel like lying to people on my end isn’t a good deed at all. It’s terrible.”

“Yeah, but then your sister won’t hate you, so that’s something, right?”

“Right,” Pearl groans. “I guess it is.”

“Great.” I push back my chair. Pearl stares at me, stunned.

“Just like that? You don’t want to discuss any more details?”

“Nope, I’m good. I already have the gist of it. Fake boyfriend. Four days. You’re giving me a ride. Five hundred dollars per day. Sister’s wedding. Pushy parents. Everyone’s happy at the end of the day.”

“Wow. I guess when you put it that way, yeah. That’s about it.”

“Good. I’ll text you my address. You can pick me up from there. Just let me know what time, and I’ll be ready. Is a suit too much, or should I just pack a button-down shirt and dress pants?”

“Uh, I…I don’t know. Whatever you’re comfortable in. The wedding is in my parent’s backyard. And the reception is at the town hall. I guess they’ll have it all there if it rains. So, it might be hot? I guess the suit, but you could always ditch the jacket?”

“Sounds perfect.” I flash Pearl, who is even more flustered now than ever, a full-on grin, because yes, I feel like grinning at the moment. “This place is great, and I like the drinks. Thanks for pointing it out.”

“No problem,” Pearl mutters. “I’ll text you then.”

“See you in a few days.” I already know I’m going to have to find an alternate address. One that doesn’t give away the fact that I don’t really need two thousand bucks that badly. I can always just stand outside and wait.

I don’t allow myself another grin until I’m back outside, walking down the sidewalk. I feel pretty good even though I shouldn’t feel this good. The fact that this is what I’d call fun says I’m ultra-pathetic when it comes to having any sort of life. I have to admit, Sebastien was right. Having a good time doesn’t really suck.

The fact that this good time happens to involve Pearl for the whole weekend is not what’s motivating me. I keep telling myself it’s not, but I know I’m lying. She thinks I’m gay. This is just fake, and there aren’t any strings. Sue me then for looking forward to spending time with an intriguing, mysterious, quirky, and gorgeous woman.

There are worse ways to spend a weekend.

I might be in a bit of trouble because suddenly, I realize I can’t think of any better ones.

CHAPTER 5

Pearl

It’s game day. Show on the road. Normally those might be clichés, but right now, I feel like it’s pretty literal.

When I pull up in the parking lot of a smaller, older condo complex in a neighborhood that can only be described as dicey (maybe that’s rude—maybe up and coming or starter houses is a better term), Gabriel is already waiting outside. He has a red duffel at his feet, and a garment bag is slung over his shoulder. He’s wearing worn-in jeans and a grey t-shirt with a baseball logo on the front, but I’m not sure for which team. I just know it’s baseball because there’s a picture of a ball and a bat on it. Yes, I am useless when it comes to knowing anything about sports.

Anyway, he literally looks good enough to eat, or at least lick. Just a little. Maybe just one tongue pass. Like, somewhere benign, of course. The arm, maybe? Yes, I notice again, because no, I haven’t yet gouged out my eyes. I need them, even if they send signals to my brain, which sends signals to my, erm, yeah…Spots. Even if I do get all warm and tingly, and even if it is inconvenient, I can’t do anything about it other than to try my best to ignore it. I already feel like an asshole for this whole plan. For lying to my parents. My sister. My whole family. What’s one more thing to feel guilty for?