Cappuccinos and Contractual Obligations
The exact moment Chloe’s life turned into a certified circus, she was holding a hot spinach wrap and trying not to cry in front of a giant cardboard cutout of a handsome billionaire.
“I just need a fiancé by Friday, Chloe. Is that too much to ask?”
Chloe blinked, slowly shifting her gaze from the cardboard cutout to her actual boss, Arthur Sterling. Arthur was the chief executive of Sterling Media Group, a man who could command a boardroom with a single glance but currently looked like he was about to faint into his executive leather chair.
“With all due respect, Mr. Sterling,” Chloe said, setting her lukewarm coffee on his pristine mahogany desk. “My job description as your senior marketing assistant covers managing your calendar, organizing your global press tours, and tracking down that specific brand of sparkling water you like. It does not cover renting you a temporary wife.”
Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands. “The board of directors is threatening to block the new streaming platform launch. They think I’m ‘unstable’ and ‘reckless’ because the tabloids caught me on a jet ski with three swimsuit models last month. My grandmother—who owns fifty-one percent of the company shares—explicitly told me that if I don’t show up to the annual charity gala this weekend with a stable, respectable partner, she is handing the CEO position to my cousin, Julian.”
Chloe shuddered. Julian wore velvet slippers to the office and smelled permanently of old cigars. “Julian would ruin the company in six days.”
“Exactly!” Arthur snapped his fingers, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers with a sudden, terrifying spark of genius. “Which is why you are going to save it. You are stable. You are respectable. You wear cardigans with little bird patterns on them!”
“Excuse me?” Chloe crossed her arms. “My cardigans are a professional style choice.”
“Chloe, listen to me,” Arthur said, stepping out from behind his desk. He was infuriatingly tall, smelled like expensive cedarwood, and possessed a jawline that belonged on a premium watch commercial. “We fake date for three months. Just long enough to clear the launch and appease my grandmother. In exchange, I will double your salary, pay off your student loans by Monday morning, and give you a promotion to Creative Director.”
Chloe’s heart did a violent, dangerous flip. Student loans. Paid off. It was the ultimate millennial fantasy. It was better than a lottery ticket.
“And how exactly are we going to convince the media that a high-profile billionaire is suddenly madly in love with his assistant who watches bird documentaries on Friday nights?” Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Simple,” Arthur grinned, a charming, dimpled smile that usually meant trouble. “We start right now.”
Before Chloe could ask what ‘right now’ meant, Arthur lunged forward, grabbed her lukewarm coffee cup, and intentionally spilled it directly down the front of his custom Italian white shirt.
“What are you doing?!” Chloe gasped, reaching for a tissue.
“Creating a public narrative,” Arthur whispered smoothly.
Just as the office door swung open to reveal three gossip-hungry marketing executives, Arthur caught Chloe by the waist, pulled her flush against his chest, and laughed out loud with theatrical fondness.
“Oh, Chloe, darling, you are so clumsy,” Arthur murmured loudly, his voice dripping with fake affection as he looked down at his ruined shirt, then directly into her panicked brown eyes. “But don’t worry, my love. I’ve always preferred you in coffee stains anyway.”
The three marketing executives dropped their clipboards in perfect unison.
Chloe looked up at her devastatingly handsome, incredibly annoying boss, felt the heat of his hands through her cardigan, and realized two things instantly. One: she was going to be very, very rich. Two: she was absolutely going to murder Arthur Sterling before the weekend arrived.
