The Fake Engagement
“No … girlfriends,” he said.
“If you don’t mind.” She pointed her pen at him. “Why don’t you call that Melissa and ask her to play that fiancée role instead?”
“Hell, no. Melissa was a mistake. I had every intention of canceling on her.” He had no interest in Melissa. She was a journalist, intent on making her way up in the world. She had tried to get him into bed, but he’d taken her out to dinner, arranged another date, and took her straight home.
No sex.
No kisses.
He hadn’t been interested and he’d forgotten about the rearranged dates.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, do you want me to give her the fiancée treatment?” Eliza asked.
“What kind of treatment?” he asked, sitting back.
“I can tell her that it would be in her best interest to not talk to you or contact you as you are presently engaged.”
“Melissa is a journalist. I tell her that, she’s going to want to know who I’m engaged to. This would take our ruse to a whole new level.”
Eliza opened her mouth. “Ah. You see, this is why you’re the boss and I work underneath you.”
He had a very different image of how she would look underneath him.
“I mean besides you. You know what I mean.”
He chuckled. “I do. You can still cancel this appointment for me, and after you’ve done that, do you want to go to lunch?”
“You want to leave the office again for lunch?”
“I think while our fake engagement is in play, the less time we spend in the office, the better.” He glanced past her shoulder.
“Crap,” she said. “We haven’t talked about how we’re going to be in the office.” She quickly rushed toward the door, closing it. “Do you think anyone knows?”
“You’re the one who would get all the office gossip,” he said.
“I haven’t heard a thing.” She wrinkled her nose. “So, we can totally do this. We can pretend to be nothing to each other, while also being engaged, and crap, this is so not going to work. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.” She collapsed into the chair. “What are we going to do?”
“Simple, while at work, we deny everything. We’re going to be engaged at Westcliffe Heights. Mr. Aguire will see us there. There will be no reason for it to extend into the office.”
“Apart from where we’re seen arriving together?” she asked, brows raised.
“Good point. So how about I drop you off a few blocks from work?” he asked.
“We can do that. See, we can problem-solve. We got this.”
Eliza got to her feet and left his office.
He wasn’t checking her ass out as she left.
They got through the rest of their morning, went to lunch, and Eliza took him to a hot dog stand. He hadn’t eaten a hot dog since he was a kid back at home. It tasted good, but he knew his mother would do them better.
Why was he missing home so much now?
He’d loved how different the city life was to home life. This was a different kind of chaos to back home.
They finished their lunch, and he didn’t know how Eliza did it, but she managed to keep the conversation based on work.
Once in the office, he kept an eye on people, wondering if they were gossiping about his private life. Eliza went about her work, and he found himself attuned to her whereabouts. He noticed whenever she left her desk or was just sitting there working.
He relished the moments she walked into his office, with notes or documents for him to sign.
The day went by so slowly, and he was bored with work. Thinking about home.
Eliza came to his office at five. “I’m going to head out for the night. I figured I’d walk a few blocks, and you could pick me up.”
She mentioned a Chinese takeout place, and he promised to pick her up in fifteen minutes.
He finished off some more work, got all the necessary details he’d need, and then closed down for the evening.
There was no one around to stop him as he made his way to the parking garage. After climbing behind his wheel, he pulled out and found Eliza waiting, carrying a small box of food. The moment she climbed into the car, he felt his stomach growl.
“You’re hungry?” she asked.
“Starving.”
“Take us back to your place.”
He pressed his foot to the gas, but he didn’t break any speed limits.
Preston pulled out his keycard that would allow him access to the underground parking lot. Finding his spot, he pulled up, and then Eliza was already climbing out of the car. They walked to the elevator.
He stepped inside with her. The doors closed, and he couldn’t help but watch her.
She stood, holding the box.
“Here, let me take that,” he said.
“It’s fine. It’s not too heavy.”
“My mom always taught me to be the perfect gentleman. I’m not going to stop now.” He took the box from her as the elevator doors opened. “My key is in my pocket.”