Sweet Deception (Tailor-Made #1)

CHAPTER ONE

ELISE

I CAN’T BELIEVE I made it. I accomplished what no other human on the face of the planet has ever done: survived being Nathan Edge’s assistant. For three whole years.

Walking into work on an anniversary that probably only my best friend, HR, and I were aware of felt more satisfying than anything else I could think of.

More than the day I graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s in communications, more than winning my first dance competition, and, dare I say it, even better than sex—not that I would remember the last part.

Between being a part-time hip-hop and heels choreographer and a full-time assistant to the biggest prick in existence, I didn’t have much free time to date.

For three years, I’d endured late nights in the office, battled Los Angeles traffic just to fetch lunch from my boss’s favorite downtown restaurant (because heaven forbid that place deliver) and witnessed Nathan Edge make grown men cry at least once a week, like clockwork.

I was the lucky (or unlucky, depending on who you asked) soul who’d had the pleasure of working side-by-side with Nathan Edge every day.

Lucky, because proximity to a man like him opened doors most people spent their entire careers trying to reach.

Before me, his last assistant lasted only six hours before she went on a lunch break and never returned.

I couldn’t blame the mystery girl, though; one had to have extremely tough skin to work for Nathan Edge.

Thankfully for me, growing up with a father like Damian Alexandre made working for Nathan feel like a walk in the park.

Though, if I was being honest, there have been more than a few times when I was tempted to chuck a stapler at his head, or replace his signature black coffee with my white mocha latte with extra cold foam.

But I never had, which was why I was still here today.

I doubted Nathan even realized today marked our three-year working anniversary.

He wasn’t the kind of man to be sentimental, so I had no illusions there would be tulips waiting on my desk or that Nathan would use actual words like “thank you” instead of grunts or nods for a change.

That would require my boss to look at me as more than another name on his payroll.

An incessant buzzing against my hip pulled me out of my thoughts.

Balancing the tray of coffee in one hand, I reached into my purse, dug past a week’s worth of receipts, gum, and mango-flavored lip gloss, and pulled out my cellphone.

Technically I couldn’t take personal calls at work, but my shift didn’t start for another three minutes.

I hesitated for a moment before answering the call.

“Congratulations!”

I scrunched my nose at my best friend’s greeting.

“Thank you,” I hedged. “What exactly are you congratulating me for?”

Kelsey giggled. “Surviving three years of working for Mr. Asshole, of course.” I mentioned it just last night, because surviving Nathan Edge was an anniversary worth mentioning.

The not-so-clever nickname was created during our weekly Girls Night In after a rough first week as Mr. Edge’s assistant and one too many glasses of sangria.

I'd never forget the moment he warned me that most people didn't last three years before he fired them.

The way he said it insinuated that he didn't believe I'd last three days, let alone three years, so naturally I had to prove him wrong.

“Thank you.” I smiled warmly at Carl, the front desk security guard, as I tapped my badge against the reader.

The scanner flashed green, followed by a soft beat as the security gate unlocked.

I stepped through the narrow opening, the glass panel sliding shut behind me with a quiet click before I made my way toward the elevators.

“I’m actually about to get on the elevator. Can I call you back later?”

“This will only take a minute,” she promised. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still getting out of work at seven so you’ll be home for the strippers tonight.”

“Strippers? What strippers?” I hissed the words in a panicked whisper, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

“The ones that I hired to celebrate you working three years for Mr. Asshole without unaliving him.”

“We can’t just pop a bottle of champagne like normal people?”

“We could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“True.” I shook my head. “But I’m going to have to take a raincheck on the erotic male dancers. Besides the fact that it’s Monday morning, I have to work on a certain singer’s release and I can’t afford for it to go anything but smoothly.”

“As the singer in question, I say thank you. But as your best friend, I say that sucks.” Kelsey sighed heavily.

“Okay, fine. Raincheck. But then you and I are going out this weekend for my birthday and you’re going to get drunk, dance on top of bars, and make out with at least three strangers.

You know, all the reckless but fun things you haven’t done since you started working for Mr. Edge. ”

“Do I have a say in any of this?” I asked as I stood in front of the elevator waiting for it to open so I could step on.

“Not unless you’re saying yes,” Kelsey sang.

“Super,” I muttered, already regretting every life choice that led me to this friendship.

Kelsey giggled. “Have a good day at work.” She hung up the phone before I could say anything else.

I could’ve put up more of an argument, but the truth was, it had been forever since I let my hair down and had some fun.

When I wasn’t in the office, I was holding my breath, waiting for my phone to ring with a call or text from Mr. Edge giving me another task or ordering me to meet him in his office at the last minute.

From the moment I accepted the job as his assistant, I breathed, slept, and ate Edge Records.

Late-night emails about studio bookings that couldn’t wait until morning.

Last-minute schedule changes that had me reshuffling recording sessions, press runs, and appearances from my phone.

Calls from artists, managers, and producers in different time zones at hours no sane person should be awake for.

If Nathan was working, I was working. And Nathan was always working. In return, I got lonely Friday nights and no one to warm my bed.

My cell rang again but this time, the number and name that flashed on the screen filled me with a sense of dread. California State Prison. There was only one person who could be calling and I had no desire to ever speak to my ex again.

I stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for my floor, but before the doors could slide shut, someone else stepped inside.

My boss.

In an instant, all thoughts of someone in my bed and single releases vanished from my mind.

Nathan Edge, also known as the Mercenary of Music, was the enigmatic CEO of Edge Records Entertainment.

Nathan Edge wasn’t just a name in the music industry, he was the music industry.

The man behind the meteoric rise of the biggest stars today.

Nathan Edge was the elusive billionaire every woman wanted and none could have.

With his thick black hair, warm tan skin, and piercing steel-blue eyes that could freeze or burn depending on his mood, he exuded power and precision. Every detail, from the sharp cut of his designer suit to the effortless command in his stance, was meticulously curated.

Nathan Edge was heartbreak wrapped in perfection.

But unlike my colleagues who shrank beneath the weight of his scowl, I didn’t even flinch.

“Coffee.” Nathan’s voice cut through the air like a command.

No greeting.

No acknowledgement.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Edge. I had a great night, thanks for asking,” I replied, my tone thick with sarcasm.

Nathan didn’t correct my tone. I’d learned early on that he cared more about results than attitude and I always delivered. I also never called him ‘Nathan’ to his face. He never granted me that familiarity.

Nathan’s eyes flickered, his face twisting into an even deeper scowl.

I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing as I handed him his coffee.

“How are we looking with those contracts and Rhodium’s single release tomorrow?” He didn’t bother with eye contact, his attention now on his phone.

“Everything looks good, but I’ll know more once I have a chance to go over them again.”

“Once we go over them,” Nathan corrected. “I can’t afford any mistakes. I hope you didn’t have any plans tonight.”

“Nope. I’m all yours.” My eyes widened at the implication of my words and Nathan’s raised eyebrow. “Not like that! I meant yours for the night. Wait, that sounded worse.” I scrambled to get my brain in alignment with my mouth. “I meant no. I don’t have any plans tonight.”

“Good.” Nathan looked back down at his phone. I thought I saw the corners of his lips curve up, but that had to be my imagination.

I scrambled further back into the elevator, pressing my back against the wall like it might absorb me out of sheer secondhand humiliation. A quick glance at the floor numbers told me we’d only made it to the fifth floor.

As the elevator gradually ascended, I decided to sneak another look at my boss.

Nathan and I couldn’t be more different if we tried.

While Nathan charmed potential artists with his sharp wit and commanding presence, I still tripped over my words when ordering takeout.

He was all dark clouds and thunderstorms in his signature black suit.

I, on the other hand, was sunshine and a gentle breeze in a bright orange dress.

Yet somehow, we worked perfectly together.

I took a long sip of my coffee, hoping the creamy sugar bomb would dull the sting of my awkward word vomit from earlier. It didn’t. I still wanted to crawl into a vent and live there.

Instead of dwelling on my humiliation, I focused on more manageable chaos: pick up Kelsey’s birthday gift, confirm the Titan audition, fix the mic cues in Rhodium’s new routine—

Screech. Boom. Halt.

I cast a look at Nathan, hoping he’d pressed the red button on the elevator for some reason. Nope, he looked just as shocked as I was that the elevator had stopped moving.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Nathan growled before he furiously punched a number on his phone. “I’m stuck,” he snapped. “Yes. In the elevator. No, I don’t give a shit what’s wrong. Five minutes, or you’re clearing out your desk.”

I tuned him out as he continued barking orders. I felt bad for the poor sap on the other end of the line because I would hate to be dealing with a pissed-off Nathan Edge. Being trapped in an elevator with one wasn’t much better, but I was confident he’d get us out of here in no time.

It’s a good thing you’re not claustrophobic, Elise.

“How long did they say we’d be stuck?” I asked when he ended the call.

“About five minutes,” Nathan said without looking at me. “Which is four minutes too long.” He huffed quietly under his breath. “Unbelievable.” I flinched at the disdain in his voice even though it wasn’t aimed directly at me. I stepped to the side, putting a little more space between us.

Nathan leaned against the wall, shoved one hand in his pocket, and exhaled through his nose, clearly irritated.

The smell of chocolate suddenly invaded my senses and I remembered the chocolate muffin I picked up before coming to work. The plan was to eat at my desk before I dived into my workload, but now seemed like as good a time as any.

“Want some?” I asked, holding out the muffin.

Nathan glanced at it, eyes narrowing as if I were offering him a poisoned chalice instead of a simple treat. “Bakery Bliss?” he said, reading the logo as if the name were a test.

“It’s my favorite bakery,” I clarified, trying not to sound too eager. “I don’t usually go since it’s out of the way, but I decided to treat myself today, given it’s kind of a special occasion.”

“What’s today?”

His complete lack of awareness stung more than it should have. It wasn’t like we were in a relationship, but I’d hoped, maybe foolishly, that he’d remember something as simple as the day I started working for him.

“Today marks three years that I’ve been working for you,” I said, forcing a smile.

Nathan’s expression didn’t shift. “Three years,” he repeated, pressing his lips together. “I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“Yeah,” I said. Especially since I’d been convinced I would quit after my first day. “Neither can I.”

Nathan’s gaze snapped back to his phone when it dinged with a notification, his jaw locking instantly at whatever he just read. “And while you were busy indulging your sweet tooth, you missed the Bryce Decker story.” He paused, without looking up. “Dauntless Records signed him this morning.”

The words hit me like a gut punch. Bryce Decker?

The man who’d made my life uncomfortable more times than I cared to count, hitting on me with that smarmy grin?

Nathan had terminated his contract last week and now he was signed to Nathan’s biggest competitor.

I swallowed, face flushing. Somehow, I’d missed the industry’s biggest move this week.

I was supposed to be the one keeping Nathan ahead of the curve, the first to spot shifts before anyone else.

Instead, I was standing here blindsided, like some clueless intern on her first day.

I opened my mouth to explain, to apologize for getting caught up in my own life for once, but he cut me off.

“Seriously, Elise, why do I keep you around?” His voice was low, sharp, dripping with impatience and contempt.

I froze. The room felt too small, the air too thick. The muffin in my hand suddenly lost all appeal.

Nathan didn’t wait for a response. Without looking up from his phone, he added, “Set up a conference meeting with the exec team. We need to figure out how we’re responding to Dauntless or you won’t need to worry about what dessert you’re going to have to celebrate year four.”

I suspected I knew where Nathan was coming from. It was about what it looked like—Nathan Edge letting talent walk straight into a competitor’s hands.

The elevator suddenly dinged, jerking us upward, and I wondered if this was some cruel metaphor for my career trajectory.

Three years, and I was still stuck in this endless loop of casually cruel interactions with him.

My chest tightened as his words hit, and part of me ached, thinking maybe I really had messed up.

But another, sharper part of me flared knowing he was lashing out, and I was the easiest target.

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from saying a string of curse words that would’ve made a sailor blush.

We worked together for three years and I was nowhere closer to liking him than I was on the first day we met.

The doors opened on our floor, and I stepped out, telling myself two things as I walked toward my desk.

One, I was going to start taking the stairs.

Two, I needed to lock my heavy office supplies in a drawer for the rest of the day. Especially my stapler.