Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Sixteen

Liam

Between callingthe hotel’s laundry service to send up some clean shirts for me and responding to business emails that came in overnight, I schedule in some time for mentally kicking myself in the ass.

What the hell am I doing with Eliza?

Letting her into my hotel suite. Feeding her. Spending half the night talking and watching television with her. After all these years of playing by the rules, I just can’t believe I’m breaking all mine.

Where the fuck is my head at? Am I losing my mind?

Her wrongful dismissal is a legal liability.

Our back alley makeout session is a potential PR disaster.

The entire situation is a tantalizing mistake.

Yet, I just want to chain her to my bed. Consensually, of course. Not in a kidnapp-y way.

I keep imagining her beneath me, writhing and naked and saying my name.

But I have to recapture some semblance of professionalism where she’s concerned. Especially since I have every intention of getting her to resume her former duties at Kline-Simmons. That’s my priority.

I undo the buttons of my shirt as I place another call to the laundry service, telling them to hurry the hell up with my change of clothes. I need to get to the office and start my day. Even though I have a sneaking suspicion I won’t be getting much work done with my muddled state of mind.

Before I can finish typing up a to-do list and sending it off to my new secretary—what’s his face?—a loud knock rattles the front door.

“It’s about fucking time,” I bark not-so-quietly, shrugging out of my soiled shirt and flinging it onto the back of the couch as I take long strides toward the entrance.

But when I swing open the door, it’s not the hotel’s laundry service standing at the threshold. Not at all.

I blink. “Mr. Varner…”

Fuck.

“The receptionist in the lobby said I’d find you here. I hope that’s all right.” He strolls right in, his noxious cologne fumes trailing behind him.

And the woman didn’t think to shoot me a quick heads-up first? Her ass is fired the minute I’m done with Varner.

The suite around me is a mess. Empty takeout containers and soda cups, couch cushions and blankets on the floor. And I’m not wearing a shirt.

I usually aim to keep this area spotless for untimely visits like this. But I asked the cleaners to come a little later today. In case Eliza decides to sleep in.

My eyes dart to the bedroom door, and I say a silent prayer that the woman did as I suggested earlier and went back to sleep. I don’t want Varner thinking that I go around making a habit of casually bedding my employees. That’s Rocco’s style, not mine.

I force my expression to appear calm and relaxed. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.” Or at all.

The old man waltzes right up to the liquor cart and helps himself to a drink. Fine by me if that keeps his attention off the messy state of the room.

“Well, Liam. I’ve made my decision,” Varner announces, barely flinching as the whiskey goes down his throat. “I’m ready to move forward building my resort in your Sin Valley district.”

I swear, for a full thirty seconds, I stare and stutter. I pride myself on being a smooth-talker, an eloquent negotiator, but I’d finally accepted that the Varner deal was dead. So the man’s sudden one-eighty has me baffled.

He belts out a knowing chuckle. “You look surprised.”

I need to play it cool. I stroll across the room to retrieve my soiled button-down. “I have to admit that I am…” I should probably leave it at that, but I can’t help myself. “Especially after I heard you were with Rocco Romano recently.” I shrug back into my shirt and start buttoning it up.

The hotelier nods slowly, his lips pressed into a flat line. “Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy a good time as much as the next man, when the occasion calls for it, and Rocco knows how to party. But when it comes to investing my money, I like to go with someone steady, stable, reliable.” He comes to clap a hand on my shoulder. “Someone like you, Liam.”

This guy is a damn hypocrite. But I’m not the morality police. I’ll take his money. Gladly.

Varner straightens his lapels. “I’m willing to sign the resort contract—as soon as possible. You just have to agree to my additional stipulations.”

I feel myself deflate. Of course. More hoops to jump through. With this guy, I feel like I’m in this constant cycle of having to prove myself.

“Additional stipulations?” I ask carefully.

He nods that piss-yellow head of his.

I keep my tone level. Cool. Collected. “Which are…?”

“The community center,” he declares. “Shut it down. Relocate it. Set the ugly-ass building ablaze. I don’t care. As long as I don’t have to look at that eyesore anymore.” His chest puffs up on an inhale. “I want that plot of land, Liam.”

My blood starts simmering but I’m determined not to blow my lid. “And the other stipulations?” I ask controlling my temper. Barely.

A cunning smile steals across his lips. “Ms. Jenkins…”

“What about her?” I ask cautiously.

“I want your assistant present while we finalize our written agreements and advance to the next stage.”

There’s a seven figure deal staring me in the face. A deal my company has invested hundreds of hours of manpower and tens of thousands in cash into. I should be relieved that it’s back on the table. Yet, all I want to do is beat this man silly with my shoe.

“Ms. Jenkins’s assistance won’t be necessary to closing this deal. We have an entire team at Kline-Simmons—”

Varner holds up a hand.

“The woman has bright ideas. Her astuteness was a key factor in my decision to proceed with this deal. Surely you can arrange to have her be a part of the process of seeing it through to the end.”

Varner isn’t asking me if I’ll allow Eliza to work on this deal. He’s demanding it. His message is clear. Give Eliza her due credit, or the deal doesn’t exist.

“Fair enough,” I hear myself saying. “I’ll make sure to pull her into all future meetings.” I make the concession knowing full well that Eliza is no longer my employee, that she refuses to even entertain the idea of working for me again.

Varner smiles, satisfied. “Good. Let’s pull her in now and move forward.” He drops into a chair at the conference table, propping a foot on his knee. Fucking hell. “Call her. I can wait.”

Yeah, great. Sure. Except that the woman in question is currently hanging out in my bed. Completely fucking naked.

Can this turn into any bigger of a shitshow?

I unconsciously crack my knuckles. I desperately need to buy myself some time. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable waiting for me at my office. I’ll call ahead to get you set up in the conference room and have some breakfast delivered. Then, I will call in Miss Jenkins to join us when she’s available. During normal business hours.”

“I’m good, thank you.” The trillion-dollar gnat insists. “I don’t mind waiting here. Go ahead and—”

Before he can finish his sentence, the subject of our conversation stumbles out the double-doors of my bedroom suite, bundled up in nothing but some hotel-issued bedsheets.

Dammit.

She doesn’t seem to notice Varner and me standing on the other side of the room. “And where the hell did I leave my panties?” she mutters to herself, yawning and scratching her boobs.

I loudly clear my throat.

Eliza halts in her tracks. Her complexion goes ashen at the sight of our uninvited guest. She emits a squeak.

Varner’s widened eyes dart back and forth between me and my barely-dressed assistant.

“Oh! Mr. Varner, hello!” Eliza recovers quickly, throwing on a charming smile. “Lovely to see you again, sir.” She straightens her spine. Lifts her chin. Lays a dainty hand over her chest.

She’s suddenly the epitome of grace. Despite her lack of pants.

Varner jumps to his feet. Ignoring Eliza, he pins his disdain on me. “I see that I was mistaken, Liam. I thought you were a business-minded man. Someone with his head on straight. Someone I could trust with my money. Turns out you’re just another asshole who frolics around with his assistant. How are you any better than Rocco?”

I’ve wanted to close this deal for so long. It’s important to my company, to my family, to me. And now here I am, caught by Varner with my pants down. Well, technically, my pants are on just fine. Eliza’s the one with no pants. And it’s about to cost me this deal.

My mind spins, jolting into damage control mode. My desperation overpowers my logic.

I make eye contact with Eliza, telegraphing a message to her. Please don’t kill me.

My body seems to be moving of its own volition, marching across the room. My arm loops around the woman’s waist and I tug her into my side.

“A lot has happened over the past few weeks, Mr. Varner.” I squish Eliza’s mussed up head against my arm. “Miss Jenkins is more than just my secretary.” I hold my breath. “We’re married now. Eliza is my new wife.”

Stunned, my ex-secretary looks up at me, her mouth flapping open and close like god-knows-what is about to come spewing out.

I shut her down with a surprise kiss that has her fisting my shirt collar for balance.

When we pull back, Eliza makes cross-eyed eye contact with me. Her pretty chocolate irises demand an explanation.

I flash her a tight grin. Please don’t kill me.

My sheepish smile turns toward Varner. “Sorry. Newly-weds. Can’t keep our hands to ourselves.” Beside me, Eliza chuckles awkwardly, looking a little dazed.

Varner scans us up and down, like he’s reading us with a bullshit meter. Finally, he clears his throat. “Excuse me for jumping to conclusions,” he says grudgingly. “I guess congratulations are in order. Liam, you’ve had quite the month. First, you married this beautiful woman. And now, you’re about to sign an eight-figure deal.”

With one arm still roped around Eliza, I offer him my other hand to shake. “I look forward to it.”

When he accepts it, I release an exhale in relief.

Phew. Crisis averted. Sort of.

Now, I have a new problem. What do I do about Eliza?

I’m going to need a miracle to finagle my way out of this mess.