Chapter One – Why Me?

Alyssa, I'm in my office, trying to finish my work before my boss, Mr. Sutton, makes me stay late. My office is next to his; he likes me close by. The door must remain open unless he's on a call or has a female visitor. Thankfully, the walls seem soundproof, because I know what he gets up to in there. He's a control freak.

The door suddenly opens. I sigh, bracing myself. He's extremely demanding, an arrogant, rude, heartless jackass. I only stay because I enjoy the work and the pay is excellent.

“Alyssa, come into my office,” he demands, emotionless.

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

He disappears back into his office. I sigh, stand, and go through. I stop at his desk and wait. I know better than to speak before him. He leans back, his gorgeous brown eyes assessing me. Yes, he's an asshole, but undeniably handsome: tall, muscular, with beautiful deep brown eyes and black hair. His jawline is perfectly sculpted, and he has a charming smile—though we rarely see it. I hate admitting it, but he's incredibly good-looking. He's one of those men who command a second glance. He draws you in, stealing your breath. I don't have a crush on him—too cliché—but I can't deny he looks like a Greek god.

His gaze makes me uneasy. He's never paid me this much attention in the year I've worked here.

Nervous, my head drops, my eyes on the floor. I can't bear the intense eye contact.

“Eyes up and on me,” he commands.

A squeak escapes my lips, and I quickly look up.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asks.

Great, weekend work. I have no plans and hate working weekends, but I'll get double pay. He may be a jackass, but he pays well.

“Nothing, sir. Do you need something?”

He stands and leans against his desk.

“Yes. I need you to be my date.”

“Y-y-your what?” I stammer.

He's joking, right?

“My date. I have a family wedding. I'm tired of being asked when I'll settle down. So, you'll come as my date, pretend to be my girlfriend for the weekend.” He says, confidently strolling toward me.

“No. You have plenty of women. Ask one of them,” I exclaim.

He steps closer, inches from my face. I feel his breath on my skin.

“None are suitable. No one would be believable. You, however, are reserved, someone my family would approve of,” he replies.

I shake my head. “I'm not being your date, Mr. Sutton. I don't like lying.”

I try to be firm, but his height—he's at least six-foot-something—makes it difficult. I swallow hard.

“Yes, you will be,” he states firmly.

“You can’t make me! You don’t get to tell me what to do outside of work!” I snap.

He chuckles darkly. “Who knew you had a feisty side, Miss Corbet? But you’ll be coming with me this weekend, or you don’t come in on Monday.”

He can't be serious.

I put my hand on my hip and glare. “You can’t do that! You can’t threaten to fire me!”

He smirks, closing the distance. I gasp; he’s never been this close. He smells as good as he looks. I can’t handle this.

“Yes, I can. I just did. Your choice. You have until the end of the day, Miss Corbet.” He sits back down, focusing on his work.

I stand there, shocked, speechless.

“You’re dismissed, Miss Corbet. Keep the door open.”

He doesn't look up. I groan and storm back to my office, hearing his laughter. I want to slam the door, but that would only make things worse. He can't do this! Can he threaten my job? I groan and sit down.

I don’t understand why he needs me. I’ve seen the women who visit his office. They're beautiful. Any of them could play girlfriend for a day. I'm nothing compared to them; plain Jane, nothing special. I'm not his toy.

I sigh and concentrate on work. I can't afford to lose this job. I’m saving to buy a place, to travel. This job is perfect, but is this worth it?

I have two hours to decide—the end of my workday. It's Wednesday; he gave me little notice. Why wait until the last minute? Did his original date cancel? Either way, I don't like it!

I'm used to his rudeness and demands at work, but this is different. What if coworkers find out? The last thing I want is to be known as "the boss's girl." How dare he put me in this position? Other women here would jump at the chance. He's popular, but he keeps business and pleasure separate—smart move.

I lay my head on my desk and groan. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.