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I wait for the question as I revel in the feel of being this close to him.
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
The questions catches me off guard even though I felt it coming. The grade school question should be corny but not when he asks it with such sincerity.
“Yes.”
About the Author
A multitasking mom of four from Alabama, Samantha Long has been writing since the first grade. Samantha’s first story consisted of a one-paged fantasy biopic entitled, "If I Was An Indian". Samantha’s racy writing tastes were evident at a young age, with the plot consisting of a warrior husband, elite living quarters, and an affair with the Chief. When she’s not writing, doing laundry, or changing diapers, you can find Samantha in front of her DVR catching up on episodes of Supernatural and Castle or enjoying sweet tea with a movie or good book. Samantha’s writings are inspired by the works of Nora Roberts, Lauren Kate, Kresley Cole, and Gena Showalter, to name a few.
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Winning Against My Grump Boss
R.S. Jonesee
Chapter One
Emery Swazay
A barrage of camera flashes blinded me as I shoved my way through a cluster of reporters gathered outside my apartment building. The doorman tried to elbow a clear path toward the limousine, but the paparazzi surrounded us like a pack of wolves.
“No pictures,” I shouted. That warning only fed their frenzy and sped up their fingers on the shutter button. Apparently, leaving before the sun comes up to avoid the press didn’t work.
It was true. New York City never closed its eyes.
Gerald, my chauffeur, left his station beside the limo’s back door and bellowed for the waste of good air leeches to move back.
“Mr. Swazay, care to comment about your fiancée pretending to be a wealthy heiress?” The questioning leech stuck a microphone in my face, which prompted twenty others to follow suit.
I ducked under the outstretched arms while moving with Gerald toward the car. He yanked open the back door. Just as I glided onto the soft leather, someone yelled, “How’s it feel to be the laughing stock of New York City?”
My blood boiled, and I leaped out of the car. No guy was going to make fun of me if my fist was two inches from his nose.
Gerald clutched the sleeve on my suit, halting my analysis of who had possibly said those words. “Mr. Swazay. Get in so we can leave. These slugs aren’t worth it.”
He was being the wise person here. The one taking charge as his boss morphed into a man on a mission to score some solid hits against the low life who had dogged me ever since Forbes announced I joined the billionaire list. Being from a small town, the constant picture taking and stalking took some getting used to. But things had slowed down over the past year as other newsworthy names garnered press.
Until the news broke of my fiancé posing as a Russian-born wealthy heiress but was actually a dirt-poor con artist from Germany. A shyster who not only made me fall for her lies, but she also defrauded several people and businesses into investing in her art foundation. Except there was no foundation. She used their money to fund a lavish lifestyle.
The only saving grace was that she hadn’t bilked me for money. Oh, no. Hannah Soro instead asked me to join her future as husband and wife. Like a kid with his face pressed against a Macy’s Christmas display window, I fell for her dazzling beauty.
“Hey, Swazay.” A voice louder than the others rang out. “Did you hear Fallon’s joke that Hannah could sell her engagement ring to bond out of jail? He got a standing ovation.”
My hands fisted.
“Yeah.” This blurted word came from an NBC reporter. “Rumor has it Netflix plans to make a movie about Hannah’s life.”
On second thought, losing gobs of money might’ve been less humiliating than being engaged to the most famous con artist in the world.
I sheepishly tucked myself inside the car, glad to muffle the deafening questions. As Gerald sped away from the mob, I poured a glass of ice water from the mini refrigerator while cursing Hannah for the hundredth time. Maybe the thousandth time.
Gerald powered down the window that divided the front seat from the back. “We should make good time to LaGuardia, boss.”
