14. Nicholas
Chapter fourteen
Nicholas
W ork has been my normal for so long that it feels less like a job and more like the natural order of my life. Meetings, deadlines, negotiations—this is where I thrive. The predictability of it. The control.
I need control.
And yet, right now, my focus is nonexistent. My desk is buried under folders and contracts demanding my attention, but I can’t stop thinking about Amara. Specifically, about this morning.
I can’t get it out of my mind. The sight of her, all smooth skin and fucking untouchable.
She’s supposed to be my fiancée, and yet I can’t touch her. Can’t look at her. It’s torture. Living with her is harder than I ever thought it would be, and I only have myself to blame for this idiotic idea.
This arrangement was supposed to be straightforward. A partnership, a mutually beneficial deal. But every time I look at her, every time I catch the faintest whiff of her vanilla perfume or hear her soft voice, I feel my carefully built control slipping.
It’s working out in my favor however, considering the meetings I have lined up this week to discuss the merger. I just need to focus and not let my head get distracted.
My phone vibrates on the desk for what feels like the hundredth time today, and I glance down, seeing Alexander’s name flash across the screen once again.
Alexander thrives on making my life hell. I have no doubt in my mind that he’s calling to stick his nose in my engagement since he knows marriage is the last thing I have ever wanted.
I lean back in my chair, debating whether to answer. I already know why he’s calling. The news of my and Amara’s engagement spread like wildfire this morning, and… it’s good. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I need for this deal to go through. But with that, comes the thousand and one lies.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I swipe to answer before I can talk myself out of it.
“Wow,” Alexander starts, his tone already dripping with condescension. “The prodigal son answers his own phone. I half expected to be redirected to your assistant… or should I say your fiancée? What’s her name again?”
“Alexander,” I say flatly, cutting him off. “What do you want?”
He snorts. “What do I want? I want to know what the hell you’re playing at.” He laughs, low and sharp, the sound crawling under my skin. “I’ll admit, the engagement was a nice touch. Almost convincing. But come on, Nicholas. You? Engaged? You don’t even date.”
My jaw tightens. “My personal life is none of your business.”
“Wrong. It’s everyone’s business now, thanks to your little PR stunt. You don’t do anything without a reason, so what’s the endgame here, Nick? Trying to make the board believe you’re suddenly some family man, ready to settle down? Because let me tell you, they’re not stupid.”
I let out a slow breath, refusing to rise to his bait. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, Alexander.”
“Oh, but you do,” he snaps. “Because when this blows up—and let’s face it, we both know it will—I’ll be there to pick up the pieces. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone remembers who really deserves to be in that chair.”
“Is that so?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re spending more time obsessing over my life than focusing on your own job. Maybe if you put half as much effort into your work as you do into tearing me down, you wouldn’t still be fighting for scraps.”
The line goes silent for a moment, tension thick between us.
“Careful, Nicholas. You’re not untouchable, no matter how much you think you are.”
I chuckle quietly, my tone sharp. “Remember who gave you your current position, Alexander. Without me, you’d still be sitting in middle management. So maybe think twice before biting the hand that fed you.”
“You think you’ve got it all figured out,” he snaps, his composure cracking. “But luck runs out. Watch your back, brother. It’d be a shame if your little charade fell apart before you signed that contract.”
He hangs up before I can respond, and I set my phone down slowly, the muscles in my neck tense.
Alexander is bitter. Bitter that he’ll never sit in my chair, no matter how much shit he throws at me. Bitter that no matter what he says or does, I’ll always be one step ahead.
And he knows it. That’s why he’s trying so hard to rattle me.
But he’ll learn soon enough. I don’t break. And I sure as hell don’t lose.
I glance at the computer screen, at the open contract I should be working on, but my attention snags on a tab I forgot to close—a news article from last night’s gala.
I click on the article, and there we are, front and center kissing at last week’s gala. Her chin’s tipped up toward me, and my hand’s resting on her waist like she belongs in my arms.
My eyes drift lower, examining her in the way I’d never allow myself to in person. Her hand catches my attention—or, more specifically, the lack of something on it.
No ring.
It’s a detail that shouldn’t matter, but it does. Pulling out my phone, I type a quick message.
Me :
Are you busy tomorrow?
Her reply is almost immediate.
Amara :
Well, I have work.
Me :
Take the day off. Your boss won’t mind.
Amara :
I’m not complaining about that.
I rub my mouth, a smile creeping on my face.
Amara :
Can I ask what this is about, sir?
Sir . God help me. The woman lives with me, everyone thinks we’re engaged, I’ve seen her in a towel—in nothing—and she continues her professionalism with me when all I can think of is how I caught a quick glimpse of her pink nipples before I shot my head to my ceiling.
Me :
I need you to go somewhere with me.
Amara :
I can’t exactly say no… seeing as I live with you now.
My brows knit together, and I fire off another message.
Me :
You can always say no. Living with me doesn’t mean I own you, Amara. You might be my fiancée, and I might be your boss, but you’re your own person.
There’s a pause before her next reply.
Amara :
I’d love to come.
The corners of my mouth twitch. Tossing the phone onto my desk, I try to redirect my focus to the screen in front of me.
But it’s no use. My thoughts keep drifting back to her, to the way she looked this morning, the warmth in her eyes, the way my name sounds on her lips.
This was supposed to be a simple business arrangement.
Instead, it’s turning out to be a testament to my self-restraint.