Page 21 of Manhattan Bossholes

I sounded abrupt, but I wasn’t about to kowtow to him no matter how fake-nice he acted.

“Sit, please,” he said, pointing at the black leather chairs in front of his desk. As I moved to take a seat, I couldn’t help but notice his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms that looked annoyingly good. I cursed myself for noticing.

I was shocked when he opted to sit in the chair beside me and not behind his desk. Something was definitely weird with him, and I didn’t trust the shift.

Vincent took up space, and it wasn’t just his strong frame. Him sitting across from me, staring at me with his stupid piercing blue eyes, made it a little hard for me to breathe. He didn’t just look at me, he studied me.

Like he was trying to figure out how to swallow me whole. Which, honestly, sounded equally scary and hot, so I tried to push the thought away.

“This might come as a surprise to you, but I think we make a good team.”

I laughed in his face. “What in the world gave you that idea? We bicker every time we’re in the same room. You don’t respect my input. You’re pushy as hell. You’re rude. You don’t trust my process. None of that suggests teamwork.”

He smirk-smiled at me, like he thought I was being adorable. “Oh, come on. Things are going great! And that’s why I think we should expand our little charade.”

“Which one? The one where I respect you as a boss?”

He laughed good naturedly, not taking the bait at all. What was going on?

“I mean the dating thing we agreed to. For the Sullivans.”

“Um,” I replied, confused because what he was saying and the way he was acting didn’t compute. “But that’s specifically just for them. It doesn’t apply to the rest of our working partnership.” I stressed the last two words.

“True, true, but I think there are benefits to keeping it up here in New York too, not just in Hawaii, at least until Paul’s wedding. That golf nerd is definitely going to be at the reception, and you’ll have to fight him off all night if you’re not on my arm. Plus, you know how annoying it is at a wedding when you’re a single woman. All those questions about when you’re going to settle down…I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be! You could consider me your safety shield.”

I stared at Vincent and tried to figure out why my well-being mattered to him all of a sudden. Then it dawned on me: this was about him, not me. He was trying to work an angle—I just didn’t know what it was yet.

“Okay, what do you want?” I asked, not hiding my skepticism. “For real. Why are you asking me to do this? Because I don’t buy that you care about me being harassed at the wedding.”

A shadow passed over his face, and for a second, I came close to believing Vincent Forde had real, human emotions.

But that was impossible!

He sighed and dropped the “help me help you” cheery teammate bullshit. “Fine. The fact is, I’m currently going through some stuff with my father. He’s taking big risks—like doing twenty-four-hour adventure races and climbing mountains without prior training. His latest idea is…” He shook his head, looking genuinely worried. “Not good,” he said, “and even if I manage to talk him off this ledge, he’s just going to climb on another one.”

“I…I’m sorry to hear that,” I said hesitatingly. I didn’t have any memories of my dad—my real dad. He’d died when I was just a few months old. All I had were some pictures and the stories my mom used to tell me, back before she got together with Prentiss. But not remembering him didn’t stop me from missing him. I knew what it was like to have that absence in my life. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even Vincent.

“I need to get him to refocus on all the good around him. He’s too old to be chasing thrills. I want him to be present for family, friends, a future…the stuff that matters.”

“So what does all of that have to do with me?” I asked.

“My father thinks it’s very important for me to find a partner and settle down. He wants nothing more than for me to fall in love, get married, and start a family.”

I was getting a bad feeling about this…

“So when my dad told me he was getting ready to pack up for a trip to Costa Rica for a microdosing experience⁠—”

I winced, because yeah, that did not sound like a safe idea.

“—I told him to stick around so he could meet my new girlfriend.”

Ah, so that was where I came in. Bad feeling confirmed.

“And you already signed me up for the job!” I fumed at him because he’d basically left me no choice.

I jumped out of my chair and started pacing around his office. This felt way too familiar. Just like Prentiss, assuming he could force me into whatever role he chose for me.

“Now, hold on, calm down,” Vincent said. “I’m not asking you to do it for nothing. I can pay you for the honor of dating you. Or should I say, fake dating you.”