The Player + The Pact = I Do (New York City Billionaires #2)

Chapter 8

EIGHT

Jules

Leo Hart doesn’t think I’m attractive enough to play his fiancée. I saw it in his eyes when I suggested I take on the role for the awards ceremony. To be fair, I can’t blame him. Leo is a very handsome guy. But the fact is, the man hit on me when I was dressed as Mystique, so I’m not completely abhorrent to him. Maybe Sophia’s right, and I’ve been going a bit hard on the Granny-chic style. I just didn’t have the money to buy a wardrobe full of new suits that screamed “hotel manager” when I got hired on as Leo’s assistant. What I did have was enough money to get Ann Taylored to within an inch of my life at my local Goodwill.

Apparently, Leo doesn’t think his fiancée would wear slightly too-big suits.

Hence, exhibit A: bright red heels as high as the Empire State Building, click-clacking on the pavement each time I take a step. And exhibit B: a dress that would be tight if I was going out to a bar, let alone sitting behind my desk all day. I even got my hair blow-dried after work yesterday as I formulated my plan for a quid pro quo. It hits my waist even with the ends curled. I’m one hundred percent Jules Moore. Myself squared. Because I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want, including a full-on Pretty Woman transformation.

Today I have to convince Leo Hart to take me to the awards ceremony as his fiancée in return for hiring me as the manager of The Mayfair.

“Excuse me, miss,” the security guard calls as I get to the turnstiles. “Can I check your ID?”

I hold up my lanyard as I walk toward him. I usually wear it around my neck, but I don’t want to spoil the effect.

He looks between me and the picture on my pass. Once, then twice. “Oh, okay, Jules. Didn’t recognize you there for a second.”

I smile at him. It’s the exact kind of reaction I was hoping for. “No problem,” I call, giving him a special toss of my hair before I move through the turnstiles and wait for the elevator.

I hope Leo’s not early again today. I want to get organized. Rehearse the arguments I’m going to put to him just one more time. Go through the questions I have for him. But I also want to get into the office before the bulk of people arrive. I don’t want to deal with people at Hart Developments either asking me why I’m dressed up or awkwardly not asking. I can’t decide which would be worse.

I get off at the fifty-sixth floor and I have to switch on the lights. That’s a good sign. I might get to my desk without anyone but the security guard questioning me. I undo the buttons on my raincoat and head to my desk, which is in Leo’s outer office.

Unfortunately for me, Colin is already in. “Morning, Jules,” he calls, and then turns, smiling. His smile turns to shock when he takes in my change in office attire. “You look… different,” he says, trying to be diplomatic.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say as I sweep past him. “See you later.”

I shrug off my coat. Even though I’ve had this dress for a couple years and feel totally comfortable in it outside the office, I still feel oddly self-conscious. Maybe it’s the heels. I swear I could get arrested for having a deadly weapon. A small sharp swipe and I could definitely poke someone in the heart with these.

Maybe I need to somehow arrange to be bending over the photocopier or printer when Leo arrives.

I log on to my computer, check I have his day pack of materials for his meetings, and tell myself again why it’s worth me hiring myself out for the evening. It doesn’t make me a prostitute. There will be no sex. Leo is a player, a playboy, goes through women like they’re water and he has a habit of showering three times a day, but he’s not an asshole as a boss. He’s not going to make a pass at me, even if he does find me attractive. As long as I can hold myself together and not lick his face, I’m golden.

There’s no going back now. I’m here, I’m ready. I just need Leo to see that I’m the answer to all his problems. He gets a new manager at The Mayfair and a fiancée. It’s a double win for him. And I can find him a good assistant. This job pays good money. I can probably find someone to fill the position in twenty-four hours.

I hear Leo’s laugh in the outer office, where all the employees of Hart Developments work except Leo and me. He always stops to chat to people as he arrives. He’s a popular guy. People like working for him. I’d like working for him if he was five notches less attractive than he is.

I stand and round my desk, so he can get a head-to- toe view and really take me in—proof that I’m Leo Hart fiancée material. I’ll also be ready to offer him coffee (which he’ll turn down) and say good morning to my boss.

“Morning, Jules,” he says, bursting through the door beaming. He freezes as he sees me. His eyes dip to my bright red lips, and then he frowns before letting them trail down my body. Then, like he catches himself being office-inappropriate, he shakes his head. “Good to see you. How are you?”

“Good. I have your pack ready.” I pick the papers up from my desk and follow him into his office. “Would you like a coffee?”

He takes a seat behind his desk, and when he looks up at me, he startles, then immediately trains his eyes on his computer screen.

The screen that’s still dark, because he hasn’t turned it on yet.

“No, thank you.”

“I’ve been through your emails,” I say. “Nothing urgent has come in overnight. New River architects want a meeting. I’ve given them some times next week.”

“Right,” he says, and I can tell he’s not concentrating.

“And in between your meetings, I thought we could talk.”

His eyes slide to mine, and I get a jolt in my chest like someone’s tapping on my sternum with a hammer.

“Talk?” he asks, in a tone like he’s concerned he might be just about to step on a landmine and he’s trying to be relaxed, despite being in a life-or-death situation.

“Yes, just picking up on some of the things we discussed yesterday. I know you ruled me out being your fiancée, but I think I’d be perfect for the role. Our meet-cute makes sense. We work together. Boss-employee things happen all the time.”

He puts up a hand to stop me. “Meet what ?”

“How we met. Our meet-cute.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” He groans. “Sometimes I feel so old.”

“And it means you don’t have to trust a stranger. You’re my boss, so I’m not going to go rogue and reveal that our relationship is put on. You sign my paychecks. I’ve got every incentive to make things as easy and discreet as possible for you.”

“So, you’re listing all the reasons why you pretending to be my fiancée is completely inappropriate. Is that what you’re doing here?”

“It’s not inappropriate. It’s not like I’m just doing it to please you, to make sure I don’t lose my job?—”

“No, you’re doing it for promotion. So that’s fine, then?”

“But we’re not really going to get engaged. You’re not asking me to hightail it to Vegas, have Elvis officiate, and then fuck your brains out.”

I cringe at the words I just used. I shouldn’t have brought up fucking. To my boss. To my very handsome boss. And is it me or are the tips of his ears burning red?

I clear my throat and continue. “I’m just saying, we both get what we want in this scenario. And it’s not like I’m not qualified for the job. I’m supremely qualified. I know the hotel business inside out. More importantly, I know The Mayfair. This job was made for me.”

He’s shaking his head, not close to being convinced. I know this is my last chance to convince him. It’s not like I can start every morning like this, pleading for him to fake propose.

“And on top of that, I’m solving two problems for you. You like to take a backseat as far as The Mayfair is concerned, I get that.” It was one of the first things that struck me when I started working for Leo: he has little to no interest in the hotel. I always wondered how Louis got away with being so shit at his job—and having worked for Leo, now I know. Louis had no one holding him accountable and wasn’t enough of a self-starter to do it for himself. “But like it or not, your manager just resigned and you’re going to have to do something about it.” I hold my hands out. “Ta-dah,” I sing. “Here I am. Problem number one solved. No résumés to look through. No interviews, no dealing with recruiters trying to sell you their candidates. Here I am, tons of experience. I’ve fallen into your lap.”

He draws in a breath but doesn’t interrupt, and I take it as an invitation to go on.

“And you need a fiancée for your awards ceremony thing. Guess what?” I ask. “Ta-dah!” I sing again. “We’ve worked together for long enough that the origin story of our relationship would be totally believable. I won’t embarrass you, I can hold my own at the event, and despite previous evidence to the contrary, I can actually present myself with a bit of polish. Here I am. Problem number two solved.” I put my hand on my hip. “I’m really starting to wonder where my award is for Assistant of the Year.”

He chuckles. I think it’s the first time we’ve ever interacted for this long, other than our first meeting. But considering only one of us remembers that night…

“Look, Jules,” he says, and his tone is mournful. I can tell he’s not excited to start executing my brilliant plan.

“No,” I say. “Don’t say no. Think about it. It’s the least you can do. Give it twenty-four hours to marinate. I don’t want you to wake up when I get a job at a rival hotel and you’re assistant-less, Mayfair manager-less, and fiancée-less, and wonder if you should have taken longer to decide.”

He sighs. “So now you’re adding blackmail to the mix?” He must see the confusion on my face, as he lifts his chin and says, “You’re going to resign if I don’t say yes?”

My shoulders drop. “It’s not blackmail exactly.”

“Then what exactly is it?”

He’s asking me to be honest with him, and I owe him that. The reality of the situation is that I’m going to leave this job over the next few months anyway.

“I took this job because I was frustrated with Louis and I didn’t understand why he was getting away with being so… underwhelming.”

“You took this job because you hated Louis? I’m confused. What does that even mean?”

I sigh, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I wanted to be your assistant to prove to you how reliable I am. Show how trustworthy and capable I am. And then… show you my résumé and try to convince you to give me Louis’ job.”

His expression turns dark, and I stifle a shiver.

“I don’t like the idea that I’ve been in the dark about this grand plan of yours, Jules.”

“I know. I just wanted a chance to… to get ahead. I don’t have a college degree. I haven’t studied hospitality and hotel management. What I know is from being on the ground since I left school. I knew if I sent in my résumé, you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me. And before you object, you should know that I did send my résumé. Multiple times. You or HR or whoever reviews résumés around here never gave me the time of day, because what I can bring to The Mayfair doesn’t translate well on paper. But I know that I’d be good for the place. My mom worked there since I was in junior high until she retired last year. It feels like home. And I just want it… I want it to be better.”

He’s right to be annoyed. But I haven’t been trying to deceive him in a bad way. It was for his benefit too, because he’d have a better-managed hotel.

I’m interrupted by a knock on the open door.

I turn and it’s Colin, ready for his 9 a.m. meeting. My heart deflates like an untied balloon. I shot my shot. And the bullet went right through my foot.

“Can I get you a coffee, Leo?”

He doesn’t look at me as he shakes his head and begins his meeting with Colin. I retreat and close the door. The first thing I do is kick off my killer heels. At least I don’t have to spend the day wearing them. What would be the point?