He’s my billionaire boss. The arrogant grump who shouldn’t even know I exist. And the man who just gave me an offer I can’t refuse.
When Rome Blakely hands me a more-than-generous employment contract, I’m confused.
Because yesterday, when I was working as a lowly grunt in the basement of his building, I destroyed an, uh, interestingly shaped two-hundred-gallon bottle of perfume, cost the company multiple six figures worth of damage, and landed myself in the hospital for my trouble.
And he wants to…pay me?
Then I get it.
He thinks I’ll sue, and he’s trying to buy me off.
The job he’s hiring me to do?
“Official companion.”
He’ll pay me more money than I’ve ever seen—and give me a generous clothing budget to boot—to hang on his arm and make pleasant conversation with the upper echelons of Manhattan society.
I’m underemployed and nearly homeless—and I’m tempted.
How hard could it be?
I sign on the dotted line and tie myself to the jerk in the suit sitting at the other end of the conference table.
But as we spend more time together, I find I have questions about him.
Like why don’t his parents have any childhood photos of him in their lavish home?
And why does he feel so strongly about chocolate chip cookies?
And why do his eyes darken when he sees me in that dress?
Our contract is clear: no inappropriate physical contact. I’m a platonic date in a fabulous gown, and nothing more.
But after hours, the contract goes out the penthouse window. I find a chink in his grumpy armor, and I’m hooked. I want to know what’s hiding under that scowl—and that shirt.
It’s all stolen kisses and private jets…until I discover I’m carrying his child.
And everything changes.
