Drunk on You: an age gap, enemies to lovers, fake engagement, office romance (Love & Whiskey Boo

Chapter Eleven

“Hey, Josie, have you seen Samuel?”I ask after not finding him in his office.

I have a bunch of contracts that need his approval and signature, and I want to get them back to our legal team so I can work on this damn pitch.

“He’s in the conference room,” she says, “having lunch with Anastasia.”

I stop in my tracks at her words. “In the conference room?”

He hasn’t had lunch in there since …

“Yep, and today’s Wednesday,” she notes, having been here long enough to know what that day symbolizes.

I walk around the corner and stop when I see Samuel and Red sitting together at the table, eating their lunch. She throws her head back in laughter, and even though I can’t hear her, I imagine the melodic sound that comes from her. She smiles softly at her dad, and my heart clenches in my chest. Only a few short days ago, she was smiling at me, laughing with me, kissing me, and I was imagining what it might feel like to settle down.

Now, despite the fact that I’m still attracted to her, she’s the enemy, and regardless of what she told her dad about us not having any hard feelings, I know damn well if I get the CEO position, Anastasia will not take it well.

I watch as she rests her hand on her dad’s arm and her eyes crinkle in happiness. A part of me is happy for them, happy that Samuel finally has his daughter back after all these years. I know how much he missed her. The hurt that would cross over his features when he’d talk about her.

But another part of me—the selfish part—knows this is a problem. It doesn’t matter what I do, what pitches I come up with, how much I prove that I’m clearly the better candidate to take his place as CEO, Anastasia has something I don’t have—his blood running through her veins.

She said it herself—she’s his daughter. He might consider me a son, but she’s his flesh and blood, and there’s no fucking way I can compete with that. It isn’t going to stop me from giving it my all, just like I’ve given this company everything of me for the past twenty years, but if she gets the position I’ve earned because of her last name, I don’t think I could continue to work here.

I shake those thoughts from my head. There’s no point in driving myself crazy with what-ifs. Once Samuel makes his decision, I’ll go from there. The fact is, I’ve worked my ass off over the years, and even though I don’t have a fancy degree, I have the experience, and many companies would jump at the chance to hire me. They’ve tried to recruit me on more than one occasion, but I love working at Kingston, I’m loyal to this company, and I’ve always thought I would stay here until I retired.

Still needing the signatures, I leave them on his desk with a sticky note and then go back to my desk to delve into my idea. I’m not gonna lie. It’s been a while since I’ve been on this side of things. The marketing team usually handles the pitches, and I’m the one to approve them. Which is another reason I’m concerned. I did my research on Anastasia once I found out who she really was, and to say she ran the marketing team at Benson would be putting it mildly. According to a few of her former colleagues I spoke with, she was practically running the company, and now, Victoria Benson is struggling to replace her.

She was clearly an asset there and knows what she’s doing. If I want any chance of beating her out of the position, my idea needs to be better than whatever she comes up with. If Samuel sees I’m the best fit for CEO, he’ll have no choice but to give it to me. He might be on this whole family-man kick, but he’s always been known to be fair.

I’m neck deep in my research when Ryder knocks on my door.

“Hey, we still on for tonight?” he asks, looking at me with hope in his eyes.

Tonight?And then I remember … I agreed to have the guys over to watch the baseball game tonight.

“Yeah,” I tell him, not wanting to bail since this is his weekly break from his controlling fiancée.

Why he stays with her, I’ll never know. It’s obvious he’s so unhappy. They met a few months back, and she bulldozed her way into his life. Even though he seemed into her at first, she quickly showed her true colors, so I was shocked when they announced their engagement and he bought a mansion for them to move into, and I was even more shocked when a wedding invitation arrived, dated for this summer.

“Okay, cool,” he mutters. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait,” I say. “Is everything okay? If you need to talk …”

He sighs and then comes inside, closing the door behind him.

When he sits in the visitor chair across from me, he swallows thickly and shakes his head. “Nora was pregnant.”

“Was?” I question, making sure I heard him correctly.

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “She didn’t want anyone to know because it would look bad, her being pregnant out of wedlock.” He sighs. “You know our type of families. She didn’t want people to judge her. It’s why I proposed. We were planning to be married before she started to show.”

“And what happened?”

“She miscarried,” he says, his glassy eyes meeting mine. “She wasn’t that far along, but it still sucked.”

“Of course it did,” I tell him, getting up and pouring us each two fingers of scotch.

He takes a sip of his drink and leans back in his seat. “She wanted to wait until she was in her second trimester to tell anyone. I guess that’s the norm.”

“I’m sorry, man,” I tell him, sitting back down.

I might not like Nora, but I care about Ryder, and I hate that he’s been dealing with this on his own. I mean, he has Nora, but she’s so damn selfish that I doubt she gives a shit about his feelings.

“Thanks,” he says. “I should’ve said something, but it’s all just been a mess, and I’m so used to hiding everything because of my family.”

Ryder comes from a ridiculously wealthy, high-class family. They’re practically Texas royalty. It doesn’t help that his brother is the governor and plans to eventually run for president. So, everything Ryder does is watched and criticized.

“You mentioned you proposed because she was pregnant,” I prompt. “But since she’s not anymore …”

“Yeah.” He throws back the rest of his scotch and sets the glass on the desk. “She was doing bad after the miscarriage, and the only thing that seemed to make her happy was planning the wedding. I was waiting for a good time to cancel the engagement, but then … fuck,” he curses under his breath and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling for several seconds before he glances back at me.

“We hadn’t had sex since the miscarriage. I didn’t want to lead her on, but she begged me to take her away for the weekend. Said it would help her mentally. I’d been drinking, and one thing led to another. I swear I used a condom.”

Oh fuck.“Tell me you didn’t get her pregnant again.”

“I went to call off the wedding a week ago, but before I could, she told me she was pregnant. I went with her to the doctor yesterday, and he confirmed it.”

“Shit, man.”

“Yeah. I looked it up. You know a woman can only get pregnant, like, three days a month?”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he repeats. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence she begged me to go away that weekend. Said she was feeling low and needed to get away. I felt bad, so I took her away. We ended up at a tiki bar, both of us shit-faced, and I fucked up. I gave in and had sex with her. But here’s the thing: even as drunk as I was, I know I used protection, Julian. I wouldn’t risk that shit happening again.”

“You think she trapped you?”

Holy fuck, this chick is crazier than I thought.

“Doesn’t fucking matter now,” Ryder says. “She’s pregnant with my baby, and the wedding is in a couple of weeks.”

“Are you sure it’s yours?” I question.

“I won’t find out for another few weeks. I considered postponing the wedding until the paternity test could be done, but that will create a fucking mess, so I’m just going along with it, and if it turns out this baby isn’t mine, I’m kicking Nora out on her ass.”

I pour him another two fingers of scotch, and he throws it back and stands.

“Do me a favor and keep this between us,” he says before he opens the door.

“Of course,” I tell him. “And for what it’s worth, you’ll be a damn good dad.”

“Thanks.”

I spend the next couple of hours working on my pitch, and when my alarm goes off, indicating that I need to go so I can be home before the guys arrive, I shut everything down and take off.

“Did you see that?”Tim yells. “That was clearly a fucking strike! That umpire is a joke!”

He takes a swig of his beer, and I chuckle at how worked up he gets. Like most of the male species, I enjoy sports, but unlike Tim, I don’t take them as seriously as he does.

“How much you gonna lose?” I ask, scooping a chip into the queso dip I made.

“Enough,” Tim grunts.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but his words are halted as my fake fiancée saunters through the house. She’s dressed in a sexy royal-blue dress that wraps around her body, the front dipping just low enough to show off her perky breasts. Her hair is up in some kind of knot, putting her slim neck on display, and she’s sporting tall black heels with the signature red soles that somehow make her legs look even longer and more toned. Images of her wrapping her legs around my neck while I devour her pussy surface, but I quickly force them away before I end up hard right in front of the guys.

When Anastasia notices that she’s attracted the attention of five guys, she stops in her place and stares back momentarily, like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes settle on me, and at first, I’m confused as to why she’s looking like she needs my help—until I remember that aside from Ryder, everyone thinks we’re really engaged and in love.

“Hey, Red,” I say, standing and walking over to her. I lean in and give her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth and try like hell to ignore the way her floral, fruity scent affects me. “How was your day?” I murmur loud enough that everyone can hear me playing the doting fiancé, but soft enough that it looks like I’m being sweet and not playing a part.

“Good,” she rasps. “You?”

I hold back my chuckle at how badly she sucks at this. I’m not saying I’m an expert at relationships by any means, but at least I don’t look like someone’s holding me at gunpoint.

“Good,” I parrot. “I’m sure you’ve met most of the guys, but let me introduce you, just in case.” I slide my arm around her waist and pull her into my side as I walk her into the living room.

“Ryder Du Ponte …”

“CFO,” she finishes. “Tim Thorne, CTO,” she says next, obviously having done her research. “Evan Sanchez, CMO.” She plasters on a fake smile. “And my dear fiancé, the COO. Looks like the boys’ club is together. The only one missing is my father …”

“Oh, he doesn’t join us anymore,” Tim says, not catching on to her sarcasm. “He’s been MIA ever since he met Selene.”

Anastasia looks like she wants to say something condescending, but instead, she simply smiles and nods.

“That’s nice. So, what are you guys up to tonight?”

The sight of her trying to play nice with men she clearly hates due to their gender alone would be comical if I wasn’t one of the men she hated.

The guys all stare at her—out of shock or discomfort, I have no clue—so I answer her. “We’re watching the game.” I nod toward the baseball game that’s still going in the background. “We ordered pizza and wings. It should be here soon if you want to join us.” I turn her toward me and tip her chin so she’s looking at me. “I could start that lesson in sports I promised you.”

I smirk, knowing the last thing she wants is to sit with me and the guys and watch baseball. “What do you say, babe? Pizza, beer, and baseball with your man?”

She blinks rapidly several times and then glares, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor. “I wish I could, babe. But we have our pitches due Friday. Are you already done with yours?”

“It’s not rocket science,” I say, playing off the fact that I still have no damn clue what I’m going to do. I was trying to put something together all day, but I’m having a major creative block … or maybe I’m just overthinking shit. “I’ve secured dozens of deals.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’ll be ready for Friday, no problem.”

“Really?” she says, the challenge evident in her tone. “Since you seem to think you have this in the bag, why don’t we make this interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, resting my hands on her hips and tugging her toward me.

“If I win, you have to …” She looks around thoughtfully, and then her eyes light up. “You have to cook me dinner for a month.”

I chuckle at how adorable she is, wanting something as normal as home-cooked meals. The truth is, she doesn’t need to win a bet to get me to cook for her. I’d do it willingly—every damn day for the rest of our lives if she let me. That admission should scare the hell out of me because she’s supposed to be the enemy, yet I still can’t stop wanting her.

Fuck, I’m so screwed with this woman.

“And what do I get if I win?” I murmur.

“What do you want?” she volleys.

“You,” I say without thought.

Her eyes widen, and she glances behind her at the guys nervously, reminding me we have an audience. I have no clue why I just said I want her when, technically, I already have her due to our fake engagement, but I need to fix this before I blow our cover.

“I want you alone for a weekend,” I clarify. “A romantic weekend away. Just the two of us.”

She sighs in relief, but to the guys, she probably sounds like she’s in awe over how romantic her fiancé is.

“Sure,” she says, extending her hand to shake on it, not realizing that I’m being dead serious.

I take her hand in mine and pull her toward me until our bodies are flush. Then, I kiss her before she can stop me, relishing in her soft lips.

“What was that for?” she whispers so nobody can hear her but me.

“Sealed the bet with a kiss,” I mutter, knowing it’s in my best interest to stay away from her unless it’s necessary, but also realizing I can’t stop the gravitational pull I feel toward her.

She’s threatening my career and my future, yet I still want her. Since I refuse to acknowledge how crazy that makes me, I’m sticking to the whole Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And since Anastasia is my enemy, I’m going to work extra hard at keeping her very, very close.

“So,by creating a familial atmosphere, I think Ronan Flynn will be more inclined to sign. He is, after all, a family man.”

Anastasia smiles at the room, and everyone nods in agreement. The woman hasn’t been here more than a week, and she’s already got everyone eating out of her damn hands.

After she left the other night to hide out in her room while the guys and I finished our game and devoured our weight in pizza and wings, they mentioned no less than a dozen times how hot my fiancée was and that her feistiness only made her that much sexier. I didn’t disagree with them, but I think what rubbed me the wrong way was the fact that she wasn’t actually mine.

And then yesterday, I saw her having lunch with half the tech department and several of the marketing people. She thinks kissing ass is going to give her the upper hand, but I’ve been working with these people for years, and their loyalty lies with me.

“Good job,” Samuel says, smiling at his daughter. “Does anyone have any questions?”

When nobody speaks up, he says, “Julian, you’re up.”

I stand and walk over to the head of the table, pulling my slideshow up. Unlike Anastasia, who supplied every team member with a portfolio of info, including a bunch of data she had run—which was overkill—I don’t need any of that shit because I’ve got this on my own.

No, my idea isn’t family friendly, but it will get the deal signed. Because what Anastasia didn’t uncover in her research is that while Ronan might be a family man, he’s also a businessman.

“Ronan Flynn is a musician, and one of his recent investments involves a club called Craic. He’s recently opened one in Houston and is planning to open another in Vegas next month. He’s put a lot of money into this investment, and he spends a lot of his time there. I think we keep it simple. We ask for a meeting at his club and lay our collab idea on the table for him, explaining that it will be mutually beneficial since we’ll supply our products for his clubs at a lower premium.”

Before anyone can say anything, Anastasia speaks up. “That’s it? That’s your idea? Go clubbing with the guy?”

“Not clubbing,” I say dryly, annoyed at the way she’s mocking my idea. “We have the meeting at his club. It’s the perfect way to create the ambience. What better place to discuss a liquor collab than at a club that serves liquor?”

“Oh my God.” She snorts. “How have you managed to keep this business running all these years? Trying to secure a potential client isn’t an excuse to party.”

“It’s better than your idea,” I argue. “A luncheon? This isn’t the Housewives of Houston. He’s not a trophy wife, looking to have tea in the garden and gossip about the latest cheating scandal. He’s a businessman, and businessmen have business meetings all over, including at a club.”

“Seriously?” Anastasia screeches, but before she can continue, her dad steps in between us.

“Obviously, we have two people who are passionate about their ideas,” Samuel says with a chuckle. “Let’s take a break, and we’ll reconvene after lunch.”

Everyone shuffles out of the room, no doubt happy to get the hell out of here and away from the tension.

“You are so sexist!” Anastasia shouts once it’s only the three of us.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, recognizing my poor word choice despite my intent not being wrong. “But you can’t deny that men and women are different. Most men don’t do luncheons and tea. Women do. Men prefer sporting events and dinners. That’s not me being sexist. It’s me being a smart businessperson. I research them and focus on how to hook them in. You’re so busy focusing on the familial aspect that you’re not thinking clearly.”

“Okay, okay,” Samuel says. “You both make good points, but I think in this case, we’re going to go with the luncheon idea. I can invite Selene, and we’ll show Ronan what it means to be part of the Kingston family.” He glances at Anastasia and adds, “The new and improved family.”

She smiles softly, and it takes everything in me not to chuck my laptop across the room because what the fuck?!

“This is a liquor company,” I point out. “Clubs and liquor go hand in hand.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to be unprofessional,” Anastasia adds.

“We’ve held many meetings at clubs and restaurants.”

“I know,” Samuel says, “but in this case, I think it’s best if we give Anastasia’s idea a try. If it doesn’t work?—”

“Then it’s done,” I finish. “Because we all know you only have one shot to draw in a client.” I step back and raise my hands. “But, hey, you do what you feel is best. It’s your company.”

I turn around and stalk out of the room, and as I leave, I hear Samuel calling my name, but I’m too pissed off to answer him. Instead of going back to my office, I go to Ryder’s.

“That was something,” he says when I walk into his office without knocking and slam the door behind me.

“That was fucking bullshit. Samuel’s so busy trying to kiss his daughter’s ass that he’s not thinking straight.”

“I take it, he chose her idea over yours?”

“Of course he did,” I say, dropping into the visitor seat across from him. “And he’s making a mistake. A guy like Ronan isn’t the luncheon type.”

Ryder pours us each two fingers of scotch and slides one my way. “So, what’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?” I down my drink in one gulp and slam it on the desk.

“You’ve been handling shit for years, Julian. You know what you’re doing. Are you going to let Kingston lose a profitable deal because Samuel’s gone soft?”

Am I?A part of me wants to sit back and watch Anastasia fail. It’s not that her idea is bad, but it’s not right for this client. She’s still thinking like she’s in London. Maybe luncheons are how they do things there, but here, we handle it differently.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Get to him first.” Ryder shrugs. “If you just so happen to run into him at the club and happen to mention the collaboration …”

“And he happens to agree,” I finish. “If this works, Anastasia is going to be so pissed.”

“Maybe, but do you really care? It’s not like your relationship with her is real.”

“True.” But even as I say the word, my gut churns at the thought of going behind her back.

If I do this, it’s going to draw a clear line in the sand, one I don’t think we can come back from. Am I willing to risk that? The answer should be glaringly obvious. She’s nobody to me. A fake fiancée I hired to help me get my promotion. Yet, even as I think the words, I know I’m lying to myself.

Ryder pulls out his phone and types for a few seconds and then turns the phone around so I can see the screen. “Ronan will be there tomorrow night. He’s performing.”

“Fuck, this can go so wrong …”

“Or you seal the deal.”

“She’s going to kill me.”

“All’s fair in love and war.” Ryder pours us both another drink, and we clink glasses.

“In this case, I have a feeling I’m starting a war.”