Billionaire Boss’s Fake Fiancée (Executive Arrangements)

1. Grant

1

GRANT

Grant

W hen my father handed over the reins to the company eight years ago, I knew it came with a lot of responsibility. Being the CEO of Bowen Industries wasn’t a small, simple role to fill. Even though I relied on an entire HR department to handle the disciplinary actions for the thousands of employees we staffed, I needed to personally deliver this warning.

“This is it,” I muttered to myself as I took the stairs up to my brother’s building. “This is the final straw.” Once I spoke with him and made sure he understood the ramifications of his actions, I’d personally go above and beyond for damage control. There was simply too much at stake this time.

Shaking my head, I plowed past the familiar doorman and beelined for the elevator.

“Hey, good morning, Mr. Bow—uh-oh.” He winced once he saw my glower as I turned and waited inside the open elevator car.

“Yeah…” He didn’t lose the cringe, rubbing the back of his neck. “Derek came in pretty late last night. Or this morning, rather. He’s gonna be in rough shape for your scolding.”

I shot my arm out to stop the elevator doors from sliding shut. “ Scolding ?”

This doorman didn’t deserve my wrath, but I didn’t care for his wording. Like I was some kind of guardian on the warpath to scold my thirty-one-year-old brother. “Well, fine.” The doorman shrugged. “An ass-kicking, then.”

I slanted my brows, daring him to insinuate that I was out of line and should go easy on my brother. If Derek were just my sibling, fine. It was his life and he could do as he pleased. But he was also the CFO of Bowen Industries. His behavior would hurt the company sooner or later.

It was bad enough that I’d need to make a huge sacrifice to get us out of this mess. The spontaneous fix that hit me on the walk over here didn’t appeal, but my priority was the company. Finding a fake fiancée might sound ridiculous, but I’d do anything to see to our success.

The elevator doors closed, and I steadied my breaths as I was lifted to the top floor. Passing each level flared my temper hotter. No amount of calming myself would work. After the news of Derek’s latest shenanigans, I was ready to scold, kick his ass, and give him hell.

All this time and work I’ve invested into the company, and you want to squander it away? I refused to allow it, especially just before we could close on the biggest merger of our lifetimes.

He had to stop acting like a playboy idiot— now . And I’d do my best to lessen the damage.

At last, on the ride up that felt too damn long, the elevator stopped with a slight bounce. The doors opened directly to his penthouse apartment, and I didn’t waste time striding in without greeting. No doors prevented me from entering the spacious open-floor concept. Even if a panel of wood stood as an obstacle, I wouldn’t have wasted the time knocking. I would’ve kicked the damn thing in.

A low groan came from one of the leather couches, and that was all the clue I needed for my brother’s whereabouts in this darkness. Black-out curtains shuttered the floor-to-ceiling windows. They walled in the space on three sides, but it seemed he couldn’t manage any sunshine with the heinous hangover he surely suffered after a long night out.

“Please.” Derek weakly lifted an arm. The other remained over his eyes as he lay on the couch. One leg was crooked, draping over the side of the furniture, and the other was bent over a pillow. Fully clothed, with the stink of alcohol wafting from him, my younger brother looked like he’d simply dropped and passed out.

“You are not in any position to beg me for mercy.” I stood tall and crossed my arms.

He exhaled a tired breath. “I can try.”

“The only thing you can try to do is stop acting like a fucking idiot.”

He groaned again, curling toward the back of the couch. “That too.”

At least he could own up to his stupidity.

“Derek.”

Rolling toward me, he levered up to slant over the armrest. “I know. I know .”

“What?” I clenched my teeth, taking a risk to grind them so hard I’d have no enamel left. “What do you think you know?”

“I know you’re mad.”

That’s putting it lightly.

He grimaced as he glanced up at me. “But it’s not my fault.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I looked up at the ceiling and lowered my arms. Not that excuse again. This wasn’t Derek’s first rodeo. He’d gone out and partied and done stupid shit before—many times before. This also wasn’t my first time doing damage control, either. “Not your fault, huh?”

“I swear. Grant, just listen.”

“You just got a DUI last month!”

He shook his head but then winced as though that motion wasn’t a wise idea with his hangover headache.

Swallowing back a growl, I stalked off to his kitchen. “Humor me, Derek,” I called out as I got a glass of water and a couple of painkillers for him. “Explain how it’s not your fault that you were pulled over last night heavily intoxicated after being seen?—”

“Okay, okay.” He accepted the water and sipped it gingerly.

I might hate his immature behavior, but I wasn’t so cruel as to want to see him suffer. Derek was all the family I had left. While I wanted to help him, I was also tempted to damn him for making my life harder.

“First of all…”

I narrowed my eyes, daring him to try some lengthy string of bullshit with me. My hard glare had no effect this time.

He calmly sipped his water then cleared his throat. “First of all, that DUI isn’t an official charge. I was parked in the car, but I had no keys and the engine wasn’t on.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a technicality. I still think I should kick your ass to even think about driving drunk.”

“Buzzed,” he corrected.

“That doesn’t fucking matter.”

He held up a hand. “I know. But I wasn’t even going to drive anywhere. I just wanted to sit for a few minutes somewhere quiet. Anyway, last night, I wasn’t driving because they’re still investigating that so-called DUI.”

“Then why did I see a headline showing you getting busted for a DUI last night?”

“Because James was going to drive us when the paparazzi got too pushy at that party.”

I frowned at the mention of his usual driver’s name. Neither of us cared to be chauffeured, but Derek allowed it when he was in the partying mood. Or, I supposed, when he was the hot item for the paps to follow. “James wouldn’t have been drinking.”

Derek shook his head. “Correct. But he had taken some over-the-counter cough medicine.”

I deadpanned at him, wondering if he was serious.

“I’m not lying. You’ve heard the man. He’s been dealing with bronchitis for weeks after his allergies. It sounds like he’s hacking up a lung. He took standard cough medicine and went a little fast around a corner to get away from the paparazzi.” He rubbed his face. “So, of course, the cops came and pulled him over and he admitted taking the cough medicine. Over-thecounter stuff, Grant! He wasn’t buzzed or anything. I told you the cops are watching me.”

“Drink.” I pointed at the water. “Everyone in the world has been watching you since you broke up with America’s Sweetheart two months ago.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “We didn’t break up. There was nothing to break up from. We were just casually dating and got bored after a couple of days.”

Regardless, it had put him in the spotlight. The gossip rags were hungry for the wrong-doings of a rich billionaire player, hopping from one woman to another. It didn’t hurt that Derek had the classical good looks from our father.

Wealthy, attractive, charming, and addicted to fun, no matter the cost. Of course , Derek would garner attention, with or without a celebrity ex.

“Let’s say you have an ‘excuse’ for this new DUI charge of last night?—”

“I wasn’t behind the wheel,” he reminded me. “And James wasn’t intoxicated.”

“Fine.” I wouldn’t put it past the paps to spin those details for a juicy story. “Then what about you messing around with a fucking princess ?”

He set the half-empty water glass on the coffee table and slumped back over. “She’s not a princess. Maybe a distant relative to someone in a royal family from a little country no one follows, but I don’t think she was an actual princess.”

“That’s what the media says.”

He grunted.

“That you had your tongue down the throat of a princess—one who just got married!”

“I didn’t know who she was!” He buried his face in the pillows. “And I wasn’t messing around with her. She kissed me , once . I wasn’t in the mood to hook up, so I immediately pushed her away. But no, they get one damn picture of her kissing me and now I’m an adulterous bastard.”

Maybe he was telling the truth. Perhaps things simply looked unfavorable for him. It wouldn’t be the first time that the paparazzi and social media outlets ran with the wrong story.

Derek wasn’t a bad man. I was well aware of his flaws and shortcomings, just the same as I had the utmost confidence in his intelligence and ability to steer Bowen Industries to success with him as the CFO. My brother was a mathematical genius… when he applied himself. Lately, it seemed that partying hard was all he cared about focusing on.

“Spare me the excuses.” I paced, too frustrated to stand still. “You are supposed to be cleaning up your image. Until we close the deal with Newman, you’re expected to watch it and not cause any more scandals.”

“I’m not,” he whined. “All I did was go out to watch the game?—”

“And somehow ended up at a party across town?”

He shrugged, covering his eyes again. “There’s nothing wrong with partying sometimes.”

“You party all the time!”

“You should try it.”

I clenched my jaw, pacing faster. He wasn’t the first one who’d given me that advice. My assistant often quipped about my lack of socializing.

“If you weren’t such an uptight asshole?—”

I stopped, whirling to point at him. “Do not try to turn this on me. We’re not talking about me.”

“—and lightened up to have fun every now and then, you’d realize that life is too damn short to waste it in the office, day in and day out.”

“And maybe if you came to more meetings instead of looking for the next fun thrill, you’d realize that we’re running out of time to impress Vince Newman. Remember him?”

Derek had the grace to grimace again. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit .”

“No,” he drawled. “I haven’t forgotten how close we are to wrapping up that deal. Nor have I forgotten what a judgmental, self-righteous jerk Vince is.”

Newman Inc. was up for sale, and if we procured it, Bowen Industries would never face competition from a rival again. We had billions. Our portfolio was already diverse. However, if any of our fintech competitors got their hands on Vince Newman’s company, we could face serious trouble later on.

“Vince Newman, who has already raised concerns about our leadership. Not mine, but yours. He thinks you’re an immature frat-boy, not a reliable CFO whom he wants to sell to.” Derek and I were partners, and simply put, he was dragging me down with him.

“He, quote unquote, doesn’t want to sell to someone who takes risks and could ruin his company.”

Derek sighed as though the whole world were on his shoulders. “Look, what I do on my own time is my own business. I have nothing but a stellar reputation professionally.”

“That may be.” He was right. He was brilliant in the office when he cared to be present. “But your personal life gets more fanfare, and he notices.”

Derek groaned again, tucking deeper into the pillows.

“He wants a family man to handle his company. A settled, dependable leader he can trust to avoid risks. Every time you make a spectacle of yourself, every time you look like a dumbass playboy, you ruin our image.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily. “I know .”

Knowing his fault was the first step, but doing something about it would hold more weight.

“What do you want me to do? What can I do? I’m not partying anymore. I mean it. I’m not driving until this DUI sham is cleared up. I…” He sat up, frowning with deep lines etched on his hung over face. “What the hell do you want me to do? I won’t apologize for enjoying my life, dammit.”

“Are you, though?” I shot back.

He scowled and looked away. “I’m sorry, Grant. Seriously. I’m sorry that this crap is coming down on us with the business. And with this deal with Vince.” He shrugged. “But what do you want me to do? I can’t press rewind and reinvent myself as some golden boy.”

“Nothing.” I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to understand. “I want you to do nothing. I want you to lie low. No more going out for a while. Find a new hobby that you won’t be dragged through the mud for.”

He nodded, scowling.

“And I’ll fix our image. I’ll make us look like dependable, settled leaders so Vince sells to us.”

Arching one brow, he smirked. “Oh, yeah? Just like that?”

“Yes,” I replied curtly, even though the idea turned my stomach.

“How?”

It was an impulsive idea, but I bet it’d work. When I read through the posts about Derek’s latest antics on the way over here, I brainstormed how I could counter the damage. Something newsworthy that would distract Vince from what a mess Derek was.

“I’ll persuade Vince that I’m a settled, family man.”

Derek splayed his hands out. “I’m all the family you got.”

“But if I have a fiancée, I can make it look like I am settling.”

He huffed. “A fiancée ? You haven’t dated anyone since Samantha. And that was like, four years ago.”

I smoothed down my jacket. “I’ll figure that part out.”

He sat up straighter. “How?”

“When I go to Newman’s daughter’s wedding this weekend, I’ll bring a date. A fiancée. It’ll look like I’m responsible and not a womanizing frat-boy.” I glowered again. “It should go a long way toward reducing how much of one you are.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m determined to close this sale, dammit.”

He gawked. “At the cost of, what, hiring an escort and paying her to pretend to be your future bride?”

“No.” I held my head up higher. “There’s no need for an escort service.”

“Then…” He slowly narrowed his eyes. “Who are you going to convince to go with you on such a short notice? Aren’t you leaving this weekend? As in two days away?”

I ignored his incredulous tone, annoyed that he sounded most surprised that I had faith that I’d find a woman at all, not that the deadline was quick. “Someone who’s always willing to jump at minimal warning for the sake of a successful day of work.”

His jaw dropped. “ Elise ?” Then he closed it and scoffed. “You’re going to ask your assistant to stand in as your fiancée?”

I nodded, confident I—we—could pull it off.

Elise Macintosh was the first woman who came to mind.

Not surprising with how often she was in my thoughts anyway.