Bad Manners - Single Mom Fake Fiance Office Romance

“Come in,” I called.

Vicky’s arrival was a bit of a surprise. I usually didn’t see her this close to lunch, which wasn’t official company policy so much as a personal quirk I had come to accept. I was fairly sure that she and Jim spent their lunches together.

“Ms. Howell?” she asked, disconcertingly formal.

“Yes, Vicky?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Whenever Vic was this formal, it meant that she was plotting something.

Sure enough, she was trying to suppress a smile. Her hands were behind her back as well, another obvious sign that she was trying to be sneaky. “Can you come into the conference room, please? The new lawyer Jim hired wants to meet you,” she said.

Okay. This was obviously a setup. My sister-in-law had left my office for five minutes and already found someone to hook me up with. Typical Vic. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“Really? I thought Jim took care of all that.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “Jim did, but Russ Ricci wants to meet you too. I think he might be a fan.” Her upper lip lifted slightly like she was holding back a laugh.

I sighed. “Really?” I asked again, somewhat skeptical and suspicious.

“I know, right?” Vicky said, still trying her best to play things cool.

“Alright, give me a minute,” I said, getting up and trying not to sound as agitated as I was.

Vic just grinned as I stopped in front of the mirror in my office to make sure my hair was in place, with the right side of my bob haircut tucked behind my ear, and that my navy suit wasn’t wrinkled. Even if this wasn’t the setup I suspected, it’s never good to look rumpled at a first meeting.

The conference room was just a few doors down. Vicky practically skipped, looking back to hurry me, while I just glared at her and walked with a more dignified pace. I was the boss here. I needed to project that no matter what.

The door to the conference room was open, and my breath caught when I saw him. The new hire was seated, turned slightly so he could look out the window. His posture was casual, but his presence still seemed to fill up the room.

I was surrounded by lawyers for the majority of every day. Some of them were even handsome, but this one was very different. There was something about Russ that could knock me down. Something I couldn’t quite identify. Maybe it was the dark brown hair and the chocolate brown eyes. Or possibly, it was the strong brow ridge with thick eyebrows that mirrored his full, square jaw.

There was a defiant look to the new hire’s face like he wasn’t a man to be trifled with — a feeling his obvious Italian heritage was enhancing. With broad shoulders and visible muscles, he looked more like a mobster than someone working on my side of the law.

Something I could definitely identify — that hot body — was tightening my pussy every time I looked him in the eye. I wanted to get to know Russ better in more ways than professionally.

“Ms. Howell,” he said, rising like I was a judge.

“Please, call me Ann,” I said, extending a hand.

Russ’s handshake was strong. His fingers were warm, and the pressure of his palm on mine sent a little shiver through my body.

“I hear that you need a date for a wedding,” he said, more awkwardly than I would have expected as he sat back down at the table.

“Oh, and where did you hear this?” I asked, staring hard at Vicky. She looked away, trying to act innocent. Part of me wanted to stamp on her foot, but another part of me was very pleased with her choice.

When I looked back at the hottie, he seemed confused — his hands twitched slightly on the table.

“You’re not looking for a date?” Russ asked.

I felt bad for making him uncomfortable, so I took the seat across from the broad-shouldered man. “I am, in a manner of speaking. I need someone to pretend to be my fiancé at my cousin’s wedding to deflect the questions and looks of the more conservative members of my family. Which is pretty much all of them,” I said, unable to stop myself. “You see, I’m a single mother. Most of them find that unacceptable.”

“I hear you,” Russ said, nodding slightly. I noticed that his big hands relaxed as he folded them.

“Really?” I asked, not expecting that.

“Yup, tenth generation Sicilian,” Russ confirmed. “Catholic and conservative by blood.”

“How many siblings?” I blurted out.

“Eight,” he said, without a trace of humor.

“Wow.”

“I’m the oldest too,” he added, leaning forward.

“How old are you?” I asked, then put a hand up over my mouth, realizing how rude I sounded.

Russ laughed. It changed his whole face from hard and authoritative to disarmingly charming. “Just turned thirty,” he said.