VENUS
It was exactly 8 a.m. when the package arrived.
D
D
D
10 vouchers
I stared at it, my brows furrowed, already suspicious. The box was sleek, black, and tied with a deep red ribbon, dramatic, mysterious, unnecessarily on brand. I opened it slowly, half–expecting a snake to slither out. Instead, I found a gorgeous crimson dress that screamed “rich girl problems” and a pair of stilettos that looked like they belonged in a Vogue editorial. Right beside them sat a small note, handwritten in annoyingly familiar cursive:
“Dinner by 8. I’ll pick you up.”
Just six words, but leave it to Aaron Sinclair to make a dinner invitation feel like a damn court summons.
And how the hell did he even know my
address?
Oh right. The company made us fill out address forms when we got hired. Duh. My subconscious clapped back with a smug, “You really thought you had privacy?”
Still. That didn’t explain the dress. It fit perfectly when I tried it on–ankle–length, deep slit at the back, the kind of fabric that hugged you in all the right places and whispered expensive every time it moved. The heels? Also a perfect fit. I owned, what, two pairs of heels total? And none of them looked like this.
Okay, Sinclair. You’ve officiall
crossed over from arrogant CEO to full–on mind–reading stalker.
Before I could spiral into a deeply
call him last night.
identity crisis over how he got my size, my phone rang. I checked the screen Jude. Crap. I forgot to
Jude was the first real friend I made at Sinclair Tech. Sweet, funny, casually charming. The kind of guy everyone liked because he was just… good. We always had lunch together when I wasn’t drowning in work or fake–marriage proposals.
I answered, bracing myself.
“Hey, babes.”
“Don’t ‘hey babes‘ me,” he snapped, fake offended. “You ghosted me.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Things got hectic with my mom.”
“She okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. Just… rough day.”
“You’re strong, Venus. Don’t forget that.”
Ugh. Jude. A walking Hallmark card. He’d met my mom a few times, and she actually liked him. Which said a lot, because she barely liked anyone. Well, except Dain. But that’s a conversation for another day.
“Thank you,” I said, softening. “You always know what to say.”
“Soooo His voice dipped into playful curiosity.
“Hmmm?” I replied, pretending not to know what was coming.
“Oh please. Don’t act clueless Spill the damn tea.”
“What did you hear?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh, a lot Word around the office is that you and the Ice King made out in the lobby and then walked out holding hands like the final
scene of a rom.com.”
My eyes bulged. “Make out session?!” I squeaked. “That’s not what happened!”
Then explain,” he said, all dramatic.
“It was a peck,” I muttered, trying to sound flustered, like some shy girl caught in a whirlwind romance. Sorry, Jude. You’re sweet, but I
3/2
11:06 AM P P
Chapter 13
can’t drop the I–married–the–CEO–for–money bomb just yet.
0
10 vouchers
“A peck?” He dragged the word like it offended him. “How did you go from calling him an asshole one minute to kissing him the next?”
Crap. Good question. One I didn’t have a script for yet. Aaron and I hadn’t exactly agreed on the backstory, and I was one slip–up away from turning this fake relationship into a soap opera.
“I’ll tell you over coffee,” I offered quickly, changing the subject. “I have a date tonight.”
There. That should throw him off.
“Oooh, look at you! Coffee tomorrow it is. And I want every detail about this date. I mean it, Venus. I want the color of the napkins, what you ordered, whether he held the door open–everything!”
I laughed. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and FYI… you’re late to w work,” he said with a teasing edge.
Right. I hadn’t told anyone I’d resigned yet.
“Mr. Sinclair gave me time off to be with my mom,” I lied smoothly.
“Mmm… perks of dating the boss,” he
ased.
“We’re not dating,” I said through a chuckle.
-Sure, sure,” he mused. “Alright, I just got to the office. Talk later?”
“Yeah. Later.” I ended the call, exhaling
The silence in my apartment suddenly felt loud.
Tonight was going to be interesting.
And I wasn’t sure if I was ready.
2/2
