8. Nicholas
Chapter eight
Nicholas
I don’t get distracted.
Ever.
Not once in my life have I let anything pull me off course. My entire world is built on control, on knowing every move before it’s made. And yet, here I am, with last night’s text playing on a loop in my mind, taunting me.
Was that her way of saying yes?
Everything I’ve worked for—the future I’ve spent years planning—is dangling from the hands of my assistant and I can’t do a single thing about it except wait.
Lifting my arm, I glance at my watch. Ten a.m. Usually, by now, my coffee is sitting on my desk, and she’s briefed me on my schedule for the day with her usual crisp efficiency. But not today. Today, there’s no coffee.
No update.
No Amara.
It’s not like her—at all.
My stomach twists uncomfortably, the thought creeping in that I may have pushed her too far. Did I overstep? Did my offer make her uncomfortable? My jaw tightens at the possibility of her leaving the company over this.
Losing her would be a disaster. Not just because of the deal on the line, but because replacing her would be a monumental pain in the ass. She’s a damn good assistant. Hell, she’s the best I’ve ever had.
And that’s the only reason— the only reason —why I press the intercom button and call her in.
“Amara, can I see you in my office, please?”
Releasing the button, I adjust my tie, leaning back in my chair as I wait. The silence stretches longer than usual. Then, finally, there’s a soft knock at the door.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and there she is, hovering in the doorway, looking hesitant. “You wanted to see me?”
Her voice is soft, and though she’s clearly trying to mask it, the pink tint on her skin betrays her nerves.
“You didn’t answer my text last night,” I tell her, ushering her to come inside.
She takes a tentative step, and closes the door behind her, standing a few feet away, twisting her fingers positioned in front of her stomach.
My lips twitch despite myself, and I lift my hand to rub my mouth, attempting to cover my amusement. Two years she’s worked for me. And yet after all this time, she still gets flustered around me as if it’s the first time we’ve met.
“I was tired,” she murmurs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I fell asleep.”
Bullshit .
I can read her emotions pretty clearly—unfortunately for her—and I can see the lie swimming in her eyes as clear as day. She got scared. Didn’t know how to respond. And while that hesitation means there’s still a chance she’ll say yes… there’s also a risk she’ll say no.
And that would be a really big problem for me.
But I meant every word of what I told her. Her decision changes nothing about her position here.
“You still have time to think about it,” I tell her, pushing myself up from my chair. Walking around my desk, I sit on the edge, crossing my arms as I watch her carefully. The uncertainty in her eyes is driving me crazy, making it impossible to focus.
Her green eyes lift to meet mine, and for a moment, I’m caught off guard. God, that green . I’ve never had a favorite color, but hers? It could convert a man. Bright, fresh, and tinged with gold. They’re so vivid, so expressive, that I could lose myself in them if I’m not careful.
“And you’ll really pay me that amount?” she asks.
I nod. “Every cent,” I tell her, hope rising when she widens her eyes. “I’ll promote you, too,” I add, throwing out the offer as a way to sweeten the deal.
Her lips part, surprise flickering in her eyes. “What?” She shakes her head, clearly thrown off. “I don’t—”
“If I remember correctly,” I cut her off, “when you applied for this job, you mentioned wanting to become a decorator. Correct?”
She hesitates, her fingers twisting even harder before she nods. “Yes, but—”
“I can make that happen.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, like she’s waiting for the catch. But there isn’t one. Truthfully, I’ve kept her close because she’s exceptional at her job. But if she agrees to this, I’ll ensure she gets her dream job, even if it means she’s no longer by my side.
“You’ll really promote me?” she repeats, as though testing the words. “I’ll be a designer?”
I nod again. “Yes. As soon as the deal is finalized, I’ll handle the transfer myself. You’ll work as a decorator at our New York City hotel, and we’ll go our separate ways.”
Amara glances away, her expression shifting as her thoughts race through her head. Looking down, she fidgets with her hands again and my muscles coil, my heart pounding as I wait for her answer.
“You only date blondes.”
My brows furrow. “What?”
She shakes her head, her eyes flicking to mine. “The girls you date… they’re all blondes. Thin. Tall. Models. Everyone knows you have a type, Nicholas. And it’s clearly not me.”
She looks down at herself, and the muscles in my neck tighten at the sight of her self-doubt.
I take a step closer, my eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that has her holding her breath. “Amara,” I say, my teeth grinding. “You pick them.”
She blinks, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What?”
“You pick my dates,” I clarify. “Every single one. The choice has always been yours.”
She opens her mouth, but no words come out. I take another step closer, my presence towering over hers. “And you’re wrong,” I add, each syllable cutting through the air. “They’re not my type.”
She swallows, the sound loud between us. “No?”
I shake my head, a slight smirk tugging at my lips, my hands clenched at my sides before I do something I’ll regret. “Not even close.”
Her lips part, just slightly, and my eyes instantly drop to them. Shit . I take a step back, the air between us thick and hot and so fucking dangerous. Her eyes flicker, and for a brief moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed her too far. But then, she surprises me.
“Yes.”
I hold my breath, the silence between us stretching. “Yes?” I repeat, needing to hear it again.
She nods, her chin tilted just enough to meet my gaze. “Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll be your…”
“Fiancée,” I finish for her, my lips curving into a smirk.
The pink in her skin darkens, but she nods again. “Right. Fiancée.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, leaning in just slightly, unable to resist. “Completely sure?”
“It’s a lot of money,” she admits, lifting her chin with an almost defiant edge, meeting my stare.
A smirk pulls at my lips. At least she’s not pretending to have some noble reason. She owns her decision. I like that.
“And you’re prepared for everything that comes with it?” I press, watching her brow furrow. “People will be all over you. They’ll scrutinize your every move. Dig into your past. Make assumptions.” My gaze drifts down to the fluffy cardigan wrapped around her shoulders, her white blouse, the buttons straining slightly across her chest, and the pleated skirt she loves to wear, hugging her figure a little more than usual. “Some of them will say you slept your way to the top.”
Her eyes widen— so damn green —and I watch as my words hit her. “I hadn’t really thought of that,” she admits, shaking her head, the reality of it sinking in.
“You should. You’ll get the money, the job, the promotion, but there will be consequences. I’ll protect you, Amara,” I assure her. “I’ll bury the rumors, pay to keep your life out of the press… but even my name has limits.”
She hesitates, her hands twisting together. “How long will this last?” she asks.
I rub my chin, thinking it through. “If everything goes as planned? About three months.”
Three months . Less than that, really.
It might seem like a long time, but I know it’ll pass in the blink of an eye. And when it’s over, we’ll both have exactly what we want.
She nods slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
The tension in my body eases, but I keep my expression neutral.
“Great,” I say, rounding my desk. “I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract.”
She turns to leave, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, her fiery ginger hair catching the light as it spills over her dark blue sweater.
“Amara,” I call, stopping her in the doorway.
She glances back over her shoulder, waiting, her eyes locked onto mine.
I can’t let her leave without saying something, because if it wasn’t for her, I’d be screwed. My entire future, everything I’ve worked for, would be up in smoke. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t speak, just gives a small nod before slipping out the door.
And just like that, she’s gone. The faint trace of her perfume fills the space, leaving an odd emptiness behind.
The deal is as good as sealed, my future within reach.
Now is not the time to lose my head over any woman.
Especially not my assistant.