“How are you?” he asks as an afterthought, but he almost seems concerned.
“I’m apprehensive. How are you?”
“Eager to get down to it.”
I take a deep, shaky breath and wait for him to proceed.
He gently places the fingers of his right hand on top of the envelope, staring down at it. “I realize you’re unhappy with the idea of working so much during the holidays, and I’d like to propose a compromise… It turns out I have to attend a few family gatherings over the course of the next couple of weeks… A family dinner in Ohio on Christmas Eve. And a rehearsal dinner and family wedding on the 30th and 31st of December—which is a ridiculous date for a wedding, but there you go.” He looks up at me as if this is all he needs to say.
“And?”
“And I would like you to attend these events with me.”
“As your assistant?”
“As my date.”
“What?”
“I would like you to pretend to be my girlfriend—with no obligation of fulfilling any of the actual duties of a girlfriend, other than to accompany me and behave like my girlfriend when we’re around my family.” He watches me for a response, but I am not giving him one. “In exchange for this, you do not have to work at the office from the 23rd until January 4th. But if you should choose to join me whenever I’m working there, it would be appreciated.”
I just stare at this man, incredulous. I know that in a situation like this, the best thing to do would be to remain silent and make the other guy so uncomfortable that he starts to sweeten the deal. Or at least admit that he’s hardly presenting me with a compromise at all. But I can’t. I am not genetically programmed to remain silent.
“Is this a joke?”
“Is it funny?”
“I’m not laughing.”
“And as an attorney, I would never joke about a potentially hazardous situation with an employee, even when it’s regarding nonwork activities.”
“Well, as an executive assistant, I foresee a number of problems with the proposed scenario, and I would like to prevent them by saying—are you seriously for real right now? You want your family to think that I’m your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to lie to your family?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised my mother that I would attend these events, and she is under the impression that I have a girlfriend.”
“Why would she have that impression?”
“Because I told her I have a girlfriend.”
“And you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“What do you think?”
“You want me to lie about being your assistant?”
“That’s not necessary. We’ll be in Ohio. It’s highly unlikely that word would get back to anyone at the company that we’re dating, so I think it’s plausible that we’d gotten to know each other this way and that we’d handled it in the proper manner with HR and with my superior.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why me?”
“Because, as you know, I don’t have time to deal with a woman I’ve already been intimate with.”
“‘Already’ been intimate with?”
“Been intimate with. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. Ohhhh, yeah. I know what you mean. You are unbelievable, sir.”
He finally opens the envelope and slides one piece of paper toward me, and then pulls his Montblanc pen out from his inside jacket pocket. The one he uses to sign important documents. His lucky pen.
“Obviously we would have to refrain from discussing this matter in the workplace. Before, during, and after this limited period of time. With each other and certainly not with anyone else.”
“Oh, trust me, I don’t want to discuss this at all. Ever. I don’t want to be discussing it with you right now.”
“Really? Because you strike me as the kind of woman who can be straightforward and moderately rational when it comes to sex.”
“Really? Because you strike me as the kind of man who’s totally oblivious about what women are thinking and feeling most of the time.”
There’s a flicker of something that looks like hurt in his eyes for a moment.
Suddenly he seems so vulnerable, and I feel unsure about absolutely everything.
Does Declan Cannavale have feelings?
But then he shakes his head and sets his jaw and offers me no more than a cocky grin as a response, and I’m right back to wanting to wipe the floor with his perfect boss butt.
Seven
Declan
THE FIRST NO WAY IN HELL
I know what you’re thinking and feeling, Maddie Cooper. Even when you don’t.
She’s absolutely right. In my personal life, as it turns out, I don’t always know what women are thinking or feeling. Or maybe just one woman. But I don’t think about that woman anymore.
However, I can read Maddie like a dirty book. I know she’s been suspicious of me for the past couple of days because I was being nice to her at work. I know it made her uncomfortable. I know how much easier it is for her to deal with me when she feels the need to put me in my place.
I’m starting to hear a little bit of that Staten Island accent again when she’s mad, and I like it.
Merry Christmas to me.
She’s got this place all decorated, and that twinkling Christmas tree is finally putting me in the holiday spirit. Or maybe it’s because those big sparkly brown eyes of hers, they’re glaring. Those nostrils, they’re flaring. She’s squirming around in her chair because her thighs are squeezing together. It’s a beautiful sight. She’s conflicted, and she’s putting up a fight.
I am so glad she didn’t agree to this ridiculous idea of mine right away.
I mean, I’ll get her to
