Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Come into my office,” he says.
That’s even worse. He didn’t even say good morning.
Without saying a word, I follow him and sit in the chair opposite his desk.
“I’ve been thinking about everything.” His tone is somber and my heart falls into my stomach. Leo is charming, and cutthroat at times, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him somber. “I’ve given a lot of thought to what I need from a fiancée—a fake fiancée. And from a manager of The Mayfair. And… I have a proposition for you.”
My heart leaps up like a meerkat checking its surroundings. I’m tempted to launch myself across the desk and tell him whatever it is, I agree, but I manage to hold myself back.
“I’m prepared to give you a trial as manager of The Mayfair—” I know there’s a condition about to follow, but I want to let off confetti bombs and hug the shit out of him. “It will be a fair trial. You don’t have previous experience”—I start to interrupt him, but he silences me with a raised eyebrow and continues—“as a general manager. I appreciate you have a lot of other experience. And you also have ambition and drive, both of which go a long way.”
“I won’t let you down,” I say. “You’re going to give me that job permanently when my trial is over.”
“That is my hope and expectation. As you correctly point out, I have neither the time nor inclination to begin a search for a replacement for Louis.”
I nod. “And I will find you another assistant.”
“I know you will.” He smirks at me. “But you’re right, your first job is to find me an assistant who’s at least as good at your job as you are.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth and shake my head. “Not sure that’s achievable.”
The corner of his mouth twitches and I do my best not to smile. Grinning at each other is not our MO. We are brusque and professional. That’s how it should stay.
“Then we come to the matter of our engagement.”
I nod, setting my mouth in a thin line, so he knows I mean business.
He slides some papers over to my side of the desk. “This is an NDA, which I require you to sign.”
I click the top of my pen and flick over to the last of five pages, sign it, and slide it back to him.
“You haven’t read it,” he says.
“I really want this job,” I reply.
“You need to be aware of your obligations in terms of what I need you to keep confidential.”
“I’m aware.”
He closes his eyes in a long, irritated blink, like he’s trying to compose himself or he’ll launch across the desk and strangle me.
I slide the NDA back to my side of the desk and start to read.
It all seems perfectly reasonable. Apparently everything he tells me in relation to the engagement is confidential. I’m not allowed to tell anyone that it’s not real.
“So I can’t tell my mom?”
He shakes his head.
“My mom?”
“Jules, we all know that your mother won’t knowingly let the cat out of the bag. But her friends will no doubt find out you’re engaged and congratulate her. She’ll feel awkward or just not as excited as they’ll expect, and then doubt and suspicion will follow. Lies, deceit, revealing secrets. It’s a line of dominoes that only requires a touch of a finger to fall.”
I can’t argue with anything he’s saying, but the thought of lying to my mom fills me up to my neck with molasses.
“Does she have to know? Maybe I can just skirt over the entire thing?”
“Are you close with your mother?” Leo asks. I’ve never seen him so serious. He’s like a shark—all cold and dead in the eyes. I guess that’s how the rich get rich—they see the endgame and are laser-focused on the kill.
“Yes, I’m close with my mom.”
“You wouldn’t forget to tell her if you’d met the love of your life and you were getting married, then?”
I sigh. “No, but—”
“This needs to be authentic. I appreciate that it’s an unusual request. If anyone were to find out that this was an arranged engagement… I have no wish to be the subject of ridicule.”
I don’t know if it’s the Brit in him, but he has these oddly Bridgertonian turns of phrase, and I’m one hundred percent here for it. It’s adorable. I realize I’m smiling and wince. I’m not supposed to be finding any part of Leo Hart adorable. These little language quirks are strange and old-fashioned and probably mean he can’t fuck. But he has BDE, that’s for damn sure.
“I get it,” I say. My mom won’t like that I lied to her, but I hope she understands when I’m able to explain everything eventually. If I’m ever able to explain everything. Maybe I should take a second pass over this NDA.