Chapter 1
Chapter One
SLOANE
How does he drink this stuff?
I set Hudson’s green juice on his desk and twist the cup, so the logo is facing him when he takes a seat at his desk. It’s not required, but I think it’s a nice touch. I’ve learned in life that appearances matter.
I glance at the watch on my wrist and note that he’ll be here in five minutes, so I take the time to set up his pen and notepad, wake up his computer, and grab him a glass of water from the kitchenette in his office.
Once everything is set, I stand to the side of his desk, ready to greet him.
Yup, this is my life.
Sloane Galloway, twenty-two-year-old assistant to Hudson Hopper, making sure all of his wildest dreams and business goals are met, a.k.a. fetching him drinks and telling him people are waiting to talk to him on line one.
Fresh out of college, I was looking for any sort of job, an internship, or anything that paid and could give me experience in…well…in anything. I majored in business management with no idea what to do with that, interned at a dying newspaper for a few months, and then desperately pleaded with Jude, my brother, to help me find something where I make some money and earn more corporate experience.
Enter Hudson Hopper into the chat.
He needed an assistant .
I’m great at assisting—even better at listening and catering to your every need.
It was a match made in heaven.
I make decent money. He doesn’t use and abuse the assistant role. And well…I’m learning quite quickly with every demanding email and phone call that business is a lot about slapping on a smile and being gracious even when it’s the last thing you want to do. I can safely say executive assistant is not the future career for me. I’m not sure the corporate life is for me either.
Corporate jobs feel a bit soulless, and the emphasis on money and making more of it feels wrong as someone whose family struggled for years to figure out where our next meal was going to come from or how we were going to afford the roof over our heads.
What do I want to do?
That’s yet to be determined and something that I hope I figure out along the way.
The door opens to Hudson’s office and—just like every other morning when he strolls in wearing his bespoke suit, head down, looking at his phone—I feel my stomach flip, my skin break out in an acute sweat, and my pulse beat faster, because…
Oh.
My.
God.
He is so handsome.
No, handsome is not even the most suitable word to describe him. He’s…ungodly.
Olive skin; full, light brown hair; and eyes the color of the sweater Andrea Sachs wears in The Devil Wears Prada …cerulean blue. His long legs are endless, his waist, thick but narrow, and his shoulders are broad, rounded in muscles that pull on his button-up shirts whenever he removes his jacket. Not to mention one of the best asses I’ve ever se en in a three-piece suit. And when he’s in the state of full-on concentration with his sleeves rolled up—his brow pinched together as he stares down at his notes—he’s stunning. It’s hard to pull my gaze off him from where I sit at my desk, looking into his office, wondering if there is a way I can ease the tension for him, something more than just bringing him a drink.
Hudson pulls his attention away from his phone and looks up at me. The same mandatory smile he offers me every morning plays on his lips as he says, “Morning, Sloane.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hopper,” I answer, my hands folded in front of me.
And just like every other morning, he turns his attention away from me and brings it to his desk where he takes a seat.
Do I wish that he’d give me more than just his smile used for employees?
Of course.
Do I wish he noticed the outfits I spend a great deal of time putting together in an effort to impress him?
Obviously.
But that’s wishful thinking because this is Hudson Hopper. Not only is he way out of my league, significantly older than me, and my boss, but he’s my brother’s friend, brother-in-law, and business partner, and there’s no way Hudson would ever cross that line.
I know this from how upset he was when he found out that his brother, Hardy, was cross-pollinating with Everly Plum, who works for Maggie Mitchell.
Maggie owns Magical Moments by Maggie and is the official event planner for Hudson and Hardy’s co-op. She’s the owner of Bridesmaid for Hire as well, which is an emerging, booming business that rents bridesmaids to brides and grooms in need. Everly heads up the program and recently helped Hardy’s friend, who needed someone to train the maid of honor. Long story short, Hardy fell for Everly, and Hudson had a conniption about it.
I heard him ranting about how you don’t mix personal with business. It was a rough day in the office to say the least.
“Any meetings today?” Hudson asks in a gruff voice as he picks up his green drink and mumbles, “Thank you.”
“You have three,” I say while pulling my phone out to go over his schedule. This is where I transform. This is where I have an out-of-body experience.
Normally, I can be snarky, sarcastic, maybe a bit too sassy for my own good, but when I’m around Hudson, I’m on my best behavior. Again, I know the value of appearances.
I’m talking, we’re having dinner at the in-laws , do not say anything incriminating type of behavior.
I’m polite.
I’m courteous.
I do the job, and I don’t linger.
When I got this job, Jude pulled me to the side and told me that I needed to put my big-girl pants on and be professional, especially since I would be working for his friend.
And I do what Jude says.
So, yup, every time I’m in assistant mode, I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
“The first meeting is with Maggie at Magical Moments. A check-in on the business and then right after that, a few blocks down, you’re meeting with Archie Wimbach.” Hudson’s gaze falls to mine.
“Archie’s today? I thought that was tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “It’s today. I sent you the notes yesterday about the possible property purchase.”
“Jesus,” he mutters and then goes to his email. He scans through his inbox, and when he sees my email, he mumbles something else under his breath and then pinches his brow .
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says in a snappy tone, and I know it’s not directed at me, more so at himself.
I’ve heard it a few times, the anger and irritation over something he’s done or something not going his way.
Here’s the thing about Hudson Hopper. He’s incredibly intelligent, a diligent and hard worker, a kind, caring boss, but also vastly more intense than anyone I’ve ever known. Why?
Because he has something to prove.
Only a few months ago, together with his brother and mine, he formed a new business after parting ways with Reginald Hopper, Hudson and Hardy’s dad.
But not only did they part ways, they started a co-op with Reginald’s enemies, the Cane brothers, who own Cane Enterprises. It was the merger of the century. They invested in smaller businesses, such as Maggie’s, and they’re building up their philanthropic side by expanding affordable housing during a time when big companies are scooping up property and price-gouging. No one saw the co-op coming, not even Reginald, and now, he’s out for blood.
Which has led to the intensity Hudson lives with on a daily basis.
Hudson blows out a heavy breath and leans back in his chair while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
See? Kind. Caring.
Hot.
Just look at how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off his muscular pecs and bare chest. I saw exactly what was under those button-downs when we were at Jude’s wedding in Bora Bora. God, he’s so impossibly attractive that just looking at him makes me sweat.
Weak.
And panting like a dog—for lack of a better description. Although, I am quite feral when I see pec definition .
I’ve had the occasional thought of how I would motorboat in the ridges all over his body.
And sure, do I seem like a horny assistant drooling over her boss, obviously, can’t deny it, but I swear I perform my job well.
“It’s okay. I understand the stress you must be under at the moment.”
He glances my way briefly, barely giving me a glimpse of those sultry eyes of his. “Thanks, Sloane.”
He sits up again and takes a sip of his juice. When he sets it back down, he stares back at his computer. “This possible purchase is important. It could grant us access to low-income housing in the UK, an expansion that would impress the Cane brothers as it’s something they’ve been looking to do.”
“It seemed like a pretty big deal when I was writing up the notes for you, but I think you can make it happen. Mr. Wimbach and you definitely have something in common.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“You both went to Stanford.”
“Did he?” Hudson asks, turning toward me again, but this time, it’s not just his head. He turns his whole body. His deliciously firm body.
“He did. He graduated a few years before you, but you were both Cardinals and he’s a pretty big donor, which means he loves his college more than the average student. I think that’s something you can easily play off. Not to mention, he’s recently engaged. Your sister just got married in Bora Bora, so you can bond over that. Maybe discuss your sister’s business while you’re at it, pop in the idea that she could bring her vacation rental brand over to the UK.”
Haisley started her own business a few years ago. Separating herself from her father and Hopper Industries earlier, she took some money from her trust fund and purchased a house in Nashville, which she completely gutted and renovated, then themed the whole house around Dolly Parton. She took the revenue from that house—because who doesn’t want to vacation with Dolly?—and bought a house here in San Francisco, which she decorated based on the movie Clueless .
Hudson scratches the side of his cheek. “You know, that’s not that bad of an idea.”
I want to say that’s a compliment, but why did he have to say it like that? As if he expected me to have a bad idea, but I surprised him with a good one?
“Thanks,” I say, even though I still feel the slight burn of his comment. I might be much younger than him, but I’m also very perceptive; he might not know it yet, but I’m a good addition to his team.
“Okay. I’m going to get some work done before we leave.”
“We?” I ask, surprised. “Before we leave?”
“Yeah,” he says, looking at me again, this time his brow full of confusion. “You’re coming with me.”
“Oh. I’ve never come with you to meetings outside the office before.”
“This is an important one. I’ll need you to take notes. Is that okay?” He raises his brow at me.
“Sure,” I say. “Not a problem at all.” I glance down at my flouncy skirt and heels and then back at him. “Um, is what I’m wearing okay?”
His eyes travel down my legs, heating me up before they travel to my face. He clears his throat and turns away from me, focusing entirely on his computer. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
Fine?
Just fine?
I mean, not that he would compliment what I’m wearing, the man barely even looks at me, but I thought my outfit today was better than fine.
I worked hard on putting it together. I changed at least three times.
My lush skirt I found at the thrift store—which, by the way, shopping at the thrift store here in San Francisco, you can find some amazing designer clothing for so cheap. My maroon blouse I got on Poshmark for twelve dollars along with these matching maroon heels. I know how to make dollars stretch. There were several times growing up when we didn’t have money for new shoes or coats, and people treat you different when they see your coat sleeves are too short or that your tennis shoes have soles that were obviously glued to last a bit longer. I’m not saying it’s right, but we do live in a world where appearance matters more than it should. It’s why I care so much about playing the part while I’m in the office. At most, I think I paid thirty dollars for this whole outfit, and when I was walking out of the house today, even Stacey, my twin sister, told me I looked like an executive—but that the skirt was too short.
Too short was also the perfect answer.
Hence why I asked Hudson about my outfit.
This is one of those instances where I slap on a smile and keep my mouth shut. If I wasn’t trying to be professional and hold back, I’d tell Hudson to look again because I’m more than just fine.
He’s a stoic man. I really shouldn’t expect anything more from him.
“Okay, well, I’m going to go work on some emails. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” he says with a nod, his eyes fixed on his computer.
I turn away from him and work my way out of his office, making sure to shut the door behind me, and then straight to my desk, where I take a seat and scoot my chair in.
From here, I look through the glass of his windows that frost when he wants privacy, and I stare at the crinkle in his brow and the sturdy grip he has on his mouse as he scrolls through emails.
He’s always so tense I wonder if he ever does anything to relax.
Like, what does he do when he gets home from work?
He goes to the gym, that’s extremely obvious. Through his suits, I can see his muscles, and when he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up shirt when it’s late at night and he’s been thinking hard…oof those forearms.
But there must be other things .
Like…what kind of shows does he watch? Does he even watch any?
What music does he listen to? I can’t imagine him listening to anything honestly. In my head, he walks around this earth in complete silence, always thinking about business. He probably drives to work in silence and gets ready for his day in silence, although I bet he listens to the stock market and how well that’s doing. Ugh, boring.
Does he do anything on the weekends?
Does he like sports?
Does he…go out on dates?
I once tried asking Jude about Hudson, but he quickly told me it was stuff I didn’t need to know because I was working for him and anything personal was none of my business. Soooo that was helpful and also somewhat embarrassing.
Either way, I wonder about him. But I guess that’s not my responsibility.
Nope, I’m here to answer emails, schedule meetings, and, apparently now, accompany him to meetings outside the office.
At least it pays the bills.
At least I’m learning what I don’t want to do with my life.
And at least there’s outstanding eye candy.
“We’re here,” I say to Hudson as the car comes to a stop.
Hudson looks up from his phone for the first time since we got in. “Okay,” he answers and then exits without another word.
Sheesh, there’s not an ounce of personality in that man. Which is weird because Hudson was a different man at Jude and Haisley’s wedding. He was more carefree, he joked around, he played games with the family, and he smiled.
But this guy?
Mr. Business.
Sir Tightwad .
Lord Stick-Up-His-Ass.
He’s all sorts of boring.
When I first started working with him, I assumed he’d at least talk to me in the car on the way to a work meeting. Nope, he types away on his phone while I play the Spelling Bee in the New York Times app.
The pangram was “publicly.” My nipples went hard when I saw it. Nothing makes me feel more accomplished in my day than when I find the Spelling Bee pangram.
I exit the car as well, thank our driver, and then straighten out my skirt as I stare at the storefront of Magical Moments by Maggie. The window is covered in pink hydrangeas, inviting anyone and everyone on the street to take a picture. Such a smart idea. Then again, it’s Maggie. She’s an incredibly smart businesswoman.
When we reach the door, Hudson holds it open for me, and as I pass him, I thank him. He just acknowledges me with a nod before following me in. Wouldn’t it have been amazing if he gave me a good spank to the ass instead?
A girl could dream.
“Hey, Hudson,” Maggie says in greeting. She walks up and shakes his hand. “And, Sloane, it’s so good to see you. I haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you here today?”
“Taking notes,” I say, holding up my pen and notebook.
“Can I get a copy of those when you’re done?” she jokes.
I offer a wink. “Of course.”
“Is that Sheridan?” Everly says as she walks out into the main space of the store.
Everly is Hardy’s girlfriend, and she’s so freaking gorgeous. Long, black hair that’s always tied up in a tight bun when she’s at work, the prettiest bone structure I’ve ever seen, and extremely luscious lips. Plus, the girl knows how to organize better than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s actually helped me out on a few occasions, giving me tips and tricks on how to keep Hudson organized. She’s been a real help.
“Oh, hey,” Everly says, spotting us. “Sorry, I thought you were Sheridan.”
“Sheridan who?” Hudson says, growing stiff next to me.
“Sheridan Soon-to-Be-Wimbach,” Everly says. “Do you know her?”
Wait, isn’t that Archie’s fiancée?
“Yes, I have a meeting with her fiancé after this about a possible merger. Why are you meeting with her?”
“She had some questions,” Everly answers. “I told her we were pretty booked up, though, and I wasn’t sure if we would be able to help.”
Hudson is about to respond when the door opens behind us and a woman with bright-red hair and a face full of cute freckles steps in.
“Hudson?” she says as a gentleman steps in behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a meeting with Maggie.” He shakes both of their hands. “Looks like we had the same idea, a meeting before a meeting.”
It’s so fascinating to me, watching Hudson turn it on when he’s around potential business partners. He morphs into a completely different person. He’s animated, smooth, and funny. He listens intently to the person talking to him, making direct eye contact. He’s invested and charming.
I like this side of him even more, even though I don’t mind the grump either. Because let’s face it, the grump is sexy too.
Archie—a very tall man with dark-framed glasses, fluffy blond hair, and lanky limbs—takes Hudson by the hand. “Always being efficient. You know, I read that you’ve had a hand in creating Magical Moments by Maggie; that’s why we’re here actually.” Ooof, what a rich English accent. Yummy.
Hudson shakes his head. “I didn’t create anything. Maggie is the mastermind behind the business. I just saw how brilliant she was and invested. She has taken the reins and created something truly special.”
I catch the smile that passes over Maggie’s lips, because who doesn’t like a compliment like that? I know I would.
“Well, we are impressed,” Archie says.
“And in desperate need of help,” Sheridan adds.
“Why don’t we all take a seat at the conference table,” Maggie says. “And we can discuss. Unless you don’t want to discuss in front of Hudson.”
“No, I think it might be good to have all hands on deck,” Sheridan says as we move toward the conference table.
“Let me grab everyone drinks,” I say as I set my notebook down. “Is water good?”
“We also have some sparkling waters and juice,” Maggie adds.
“Water is good,” Sheridan and Archie answer.
Because I’ve been here before, I make my way to the kitchen and help myself to the fridge, where I pull out a few waters in aluminum cans and set them down on a tray. I then find a basket of snacks that I figure the ladies bring out for guests, so I set that on the tray as well and add some napkins. Then, for good measure, I pick up a milk glass bud vase with a pink flower sticking out of it and put it on the tray as well.
Satisfied, I make my way toward the conference table, where Sheridan’s explaining her wedding.
“So yeah, she just called to say that she broke her leg and can’t be part of the wedding. And of course, I don’t have anyone to fill in.”
I set the tray down and pass out waters. I finish by setting one down in front of Hudson, who whispers a thank you, before I take a seat next to him and open up my notebook to take notes.
Not that I need to take notes for this meeting, but it could be helpful if anyone needs things emailed later.
“That’s when we heard about Bridesmaid for Hire,” Archie says. “We thought it would be a good option since the wedding is coming up soon, and we don’t have anyone else who could fill in.”
“Plus, and trust me when I say I’m not proud of this, but we could pick someone who might fit the part a little better, you know?” Sheridan adds with a slight wince in her expression.
I write down in my notes fit the part , whatever the hell that means.
Seems like I cut out at the wrong time, when the tea was being spilled.
Something about someone breaking their leg, them needing what I assume is a bridesmaid, and needing someone who fits in. Doesn’t seem like too big of an ask. If anyone can help them, it’s Maggie and Everly.
What kind of wedding are they having?
“I don’t think we have anyone who fits the requirements,” Everly says, looking nervous at saying that in front of Hudson.
Orrrrrr maybe not.
I glance at Hudson only to be met by an unhappy pinch in his brow, and yeah, I guess I would be nervous to disappoint as well when he’s looking at her like that.
“Really?” Sheridan says, her voice falling flat.
“Oh, I’m sure we can find someone,” Hudson says, stepping in, causing both Maggie and Everly to turn their heads toward him in shock. Yikes, don’t think they were expecting him to jump in with such a strong commitment. But really, they don’t have anyone who could help?
“Really?” Sheridan asks. “That would be such a huge help.”
“Sure,” Hudson says, not breaking a sweat. “What exactly are you looking for in a bridesmaid?”
Great question—that’s why he’s the boss.
“We would need someone well-versed in Regency ballroom dancing.”
That’s a new one. Regency ballroom dancing? What the hell is that?
I write it down in my notes.
Is that like…what they do on Bridgerton ? The fancy line dancing?
Good luck finding someone with that kind of knowledge, lady .
“Someone who can take time off and be in London for a couple of weeks.”
Ooh, London, never been there but have always wanted to go.
Double-decker buses, telephone booths, tea, and cheerio, mate .
Not to mention, the possibility of stalking Harry Styles—sign me up.
“It would be convenient if she was married since it’s last minute, though it’s not a high priority. I’m sure Archie can get it approved with the club, but it would make things easier.”
A club? Fancy. What kind of club are we talking about? Because my mind is wandering.
Imagine them looking for some Regency-dancing, unemployed, sex-club enthusiast to be a part of their wedding.
There’s a request.
“And would love for her to have dark hair since all the other bridesmaids have dark hair as well.”
That’s easy. I write down in my notepad someone willing to have dark hair .
Looking over these notes, I can’t see how impossible it will be to find someone. Perhaps?—
“Not to be presumptuous but someone like her,” Sheridan adds.
Like who?
I look up from where I’m making another note about dark hair when I see all eyes on me at the table. Because I’m very confused as to why people would be looking in my direction, I glance over my shoulder to see if there is anyone possibly standing behind me. When I come up short, a wave of anxiety washes over me as I bring my pen to my chest, pointing at myself and say, “Me?”
“Yes,” Sheridan says with a smile. “You actually would be perfect.”
“Oh, I?—”
“She’d love to,” Hudson says before I can even tell her I’m not quite sure what the Regency era really is .
Pardon me, sir?
“I…I what?” I ask.
Hudson nods his head. “Sloane would love to fill in for you.”
Errr…what?
Fill in?
Let me clear my ear because I could have sworn Hudson just said I would love to be a bridesmaid for this person I don’t know.
Umm, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not an unemployed, married, ballroom-dancing enthusiast with a penchant for sex clubs. I’m none of those actually. The only thing that I remotely check off the list is the dark hair, and that can’t possibly be a good enough qualification…right?