Work Wife by Dee Ellis

Chapter Two

Karina

Beautiful, rich, charming men are an enigma to me—and my boss is all three.

Kolton Masters is unlike anyone I have ever met. On the outside he looks like a GQ model with his perfectly mussed copper hair, his blazing caramel eyes, and his perfect jaw dusted with a short growth of a beard. He is intense and driven but when he smiles, his entire face lights up and it makes something inside of me light up too.

Two months ago, I had fifteen dollars in my bank account, an eviction notice on my door, and dwindling hope. I was at a coffee shop stealing their Wi-Fi and looking for a fresh cup of hope when I met Fallon Masters. I commented on her adorable little girl, and she took a seat right at my table where we talked for over an hour as if we were best friends.

Before I knew it, her husbands—it never even fazed me she was with both Jase and Milo—were calling me for an interview for an assistant. They offered me the position with a salary I could not have dreamt of and an apartment at their condo. I thought it was for them because I had somehow passed Fallon’s test without knowing I was being tested. But no, it was for their cousin and business partner, Kolton.

On my very first day, I almost quit.

Walking in wearing a pink pencil skirt and my favorite silk blouse with nude heels, I felt ready to conquer the world. I was confident. Until I laid eyes on my new boss. Sitting casually at my desk in an expensive suit and bedroom eyes, I almost backed away when he locked that gaze on me. I felt like weak prey to a hot, massive, rich predator.

“Who are you?” his voice had rumbled.

“Uh...uh, I am your assistant?” I stumbled over my words, asking instead of stating the obvious.

“Tell me your name,” he softened his voice as his eyes slid over me and I no longer wanted to back away.

No, I was pulled to him like a moth to a flickering flame. Fluttering around him as he asked me who I was, where I came from, and how I could be an asset. When I answered every question, he listened intently to what I had to say. It made me feel heard and even understood in ways I had never felt before.

Over the past few months, he has made me feel important and valuable here. I learn something from him every single day and I know I am out of my league with his tech knowledge. But he never makes me feel like I am wrong if I ask a question or want to learn. Some nights we stay long after the rest of the office is gone so he can answer all my questions.

“Have a good day, K,” Jase winks at me as he and his cousin Milo head back to their own offices.

“You too, you two,” I say and laugh at myself as I often do.

“Better go tend to him, K, we riled him up good,” Milo teases with a rare smile before he follows his cousin down the hall.

Knowing there is no way I could calm him down once his cousins rile him up, as they call it, I decide not to go to his office. I go instead downstairs to the coffee shop on the main level. I may not be able to do much, but I can ply him with a sticky bun and a coffee, his favorites. When I push into his office a few minutes later with both, I can feel that he is brooding.

Brooding never looked so good.

Sitting at his desk, the wall of glass overlooking the city shining bright midday sun on him, he looks like a Greek god. That is too much. No, when he swings his eyes towards me, and they glow golden, calling him a god might not even be fair. He is so beautiful even with his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. It ticks as I cross the room and when he wets his full lips, I feel a familiar twinge between my legs.

“You spoil me,” he finally speaks, clouds clearing from his eyes and his frown fading away.

Grinning at him, I set his treats in front of him and start to head out. I linger in his office telling my bad jokes too often now. He always laughs at my jokes though. Even when we both know they are terrible. I would probably do a dance and juggle some flaming knives if I thought it would make him laugh.

What is more terrible than any of my jokes is the state I find myself in. Falling for my boss. It is a silly girl thing to do, and I am not a silly girl. Even if he makes me feel like a young girl fumbling her way through her first crush. Might as well be because I have never felt what I feel for him about anyone else. Not even when I swore my undying love to Leonardo DiCaprio.

“Just doing my job, Kolt,” I say gently, still sensing he is pensive and tense.

“Don’t know what I would do without you,” he says it so softly I almost swear I dream it up but then he continues, “I need you next weekend,” he says, clearing his throat and sipping at his coffee.

“Oh? Over the weekend?” I wonder, brushing my fingers over my lips as I watch him lick Americano off his bottom lip.

Standing in front of him, pen, and pad ready, I don’t want to take notes or jot down an itinerary. I want to hike up my circle skirt and sit on his lap. Lick the coffee off his mouth and taste it on his tongue. I want to let him tie my hands behind up with his silk tie as he bends me over his desk.

“Karina,” his rough voice beckons me and I move closer, my thighs aching with each step.

“Sorry...yes, sir?” I realize I was lost in thought—filthy thought—and I blink as I shake away the inappropriate visions.

Kolt smiles up at me and shakes his head. He hates when I call him sir. I like to think he hates it because I like it so much. And because it sounds dirty every time I do it. But when his smile darkens along with his eyes, I wonder if I could handle him if I tried. He makes my body pulse without even touching me—if he touched me, I might not recover.

“My cousins are hosting a long weekend with some of our partners. You know how badly I want to buy Holden Hill out of his latest tech,” he says with a twist of his mouth as he bites into his sticky bun.

“He won’t meet with you still?” I wonder as I lean against the edge of his desk, crossing my legs.

I flush hot as his eyes drop to my legs and linger. They trail up slowly, lingering between my thighs, and then even longer at my breasts. My nipples bud up beneath my top and I swallow hard, hoping he doesn’t notice. But he does. I see him shift in his seat and I wonder if he is turned on. And I want him to be, but I cannot figure how I could turn someone like him on.

We have grown closer than a boss and assistant should be, I think. But we don’t really flirt. He never touches me too long or says something inappropriate. But when we’re alone, I get the feeling we don’t want to be anywhere else. Sometimes it feels like the room buzzes with electricity that bounces back and forth as we talk and laugh together until he clears his throat, fixes his tie, and remembers all I am is his little assistant.

“I need you to pretend to be my wife,” he blurts the words out and I swear I see them form in the air between us.

I don’t need a reason or an explanation. It doesn’t matter to me if it is for work or to piss off an old girlfriend. I know my answer and I get it out fast, so he doesn’t take it back.

“Yes. I will be your wife, Kolt.”