Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Twenty-Six

Liam

I crumplethe paper coffee cup in my fist, growling as the last drops of lukewarm liquid spill out onto my hand.

I’m running low on sleep. I have a shit ton of work to get done before the day ends. And I married my employee.

What else could possibly go wrong?

I wash my hands at the break room sink and throw the dish towel in the garbage, too annoyed at life to bother hanging it back on the hook.

Yes, I’m at the office all day on a Saturday. I’m ready to work day and night on the Varner file. If I can push this deal through as soon as possible, I’ll be able to get rid of the new wife. She’s nothing but a distraction. A smokin’ hot distraction.

All day I’ve been battling to get her off my mind. This is something I’m not used to. I don’t understand it. I have extraordinary self-control. I should be able to resist the thought of her. I’ve never struggled like this with any of my former lovers.

I don’t think about my exes. I don’t talk about them. The distraction isn’t worth my time. I’ve never dated a woman who was worth obsessing over once we’d parted ways.

Until Eliza.

Infuriated at myself, I stalk down the hallway and into my office. Before I can sit behind my desk, one of the assistants from human resources pokes her head in. “Mr. Kline, is now a good time?”

No. “Yes.”

She hands me Eliza’s HR file, the one I requested on my way into the office today.

I know nothing about my executive assistant. Nothing about my own wife. It might be a little late to start doing my due diligence on my blushing (fake) bride but better late than never, I guess.

As I flip through the exceptionally thin file, the woman stands in front of my desk, shifting her weight from side to side. Either I make her nervous, or she has to pee. Don’t care to know, but it’s annoying as hell.

“Close the door, will you?” I say to my nervous employee.

The woman’s eyes grow large, but she does as I ask.

Eliza Jenkins’s file has the bare minimum. Her application. Copies of her identification. Our offer letter. And that’s it. There’s not even a home address.

“Why is there no banking account information on file for Ms. Jenkins?”

When Eliza demanded cash at the marriage contract negotiation, I’d assumed that she was trying to keep the transaction off the tax man’s radar. I could understand that logic. But now, I’m starting to worry that it’s something else completely.

The assistant grimaces, shifting her weight again. “Well, Eliza is paid through paper checks, because there was a problem verifying her bank account when she was first on-boarded.”

Who the hell is this woman I married? No one deals with paper checks anymore. Not unless you have something to hide. Something is not adding up here, and that just adds to my running list of shit to fix.

I stand corrected from my previous assertion. My wife is a smokin’ hot, mysterious distraction.

Nadia warned me about this.

With a growl, I slam the laughable file across my desk. My trembling employee manages to grab it before it slides onto the floor. “Explain to me how this woman got hired without a thorough background check. Without providing basic information.”

The HR lady stutters, unable to provide an answer. Not that there’s a good answer anyway. What’s done is done.

I need to find out who this woman I married is. “Tell your boss to have Ms. Jenkins update this file immediately. If she has a problem with that, she can come see me.”

“Yes, sir.” The assistant scampers out of my office with her tail tucked, nearly running head-on into one of my executives.

Desiree slides into my office. “Afternoon, boss.”

“Desiree…” I run a hand down my face, trying to reset my mood. “You’re in on a Saturday?”

“I have a few things to tie up. But honestly, I’m surprised I even made it in today. I was up half the night with Nathan making brownies for the community center bake sale.” She covers a yawn with her palm.

Guilt crawls up my throat. I’ve already donated several thousand dollars to that fundraiser. I make a mental note to donate some more once Desiree leaves.

Still not gonna wipe away your sins, asshole.

Town officials are keeping it hushed for now, but it’s confirmed—the community center is getting knocked down to give way to the new hotel resort.

I think back to the lacklustre speech I gave to those kids at the community center the other day all while knowing my plans to topple the building in a few weeks. I’m a damn hypocrite. But I’m doing this for a good reason—to solidify my family’s legacy in this town. So I ruthlessly push my guilt aside.

The exhausted mother drops into a chair. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair quickly. I just wanted to pop in and get an update on Varner Resorts. How did the other day’s meeting go? Can I push us forward to phase two?”

Fuuuck. My blood pressure shoots skyward. How could I forget about the rest of the team on this account?

“No!” I say in a panic that makes the executive jump in her heels.

“What?” Desiree laughs cautiously.

“Don’t go anywhere near that file,” I bark. “Effective immediately, you’ve been reassigned to a different project.”

She blinks, and I realize I’m making this problem worse.

I backtrack. “I just found out that there are some conflicts of interest between Varner Resorts and your other accounts. Moving forward, I’ll take the lead on that one. Only Eliza and the legal department have rights to open that file. Am I clear?”

“Eliza?” she mutters, blinking again.

“Yes. Eliza’s coming back to work here as of Monday.” My tone is crisp and definitive.

Desiree eyes me strangely. “Okay…” she says, clearly wanting to ask more. Thankfully, she holds her tongue.

I need to end this discussion. Fast.

“See you on Monday.” I shut the conversation down and watch as my baffled friend stumbles out of my office.

“See you on Monday,” she says.

Jeez—I’m overwhelmed. Keeping this lie up is exhausting.

I drop my forehead to my desk with a bang.

I hope it doesn’t leave a mark.