would open so I could shove Rhys Morgan into its dark depths and hope he ended up in a world of giant sand snakes.
My boss had arrived.
Opening my eyes, I turned, pasting on a bright smile as Jackson Sánchez, my boss, strolled toward me with Mr. Fairchild on one side and Jackson’s fiancée, Camille, on the other.
My stomach lurched.
When Jackson said Mr. Fairchild wanted to meet the newest member of the team (that would be me), I’d promised him I was bringing my boyfriend, knowing I needed to impress Fairchild. Not only did I feel bad about lying to Jackson, whom I genuinely liked and admired, I now was without said boyfriend. Because of the caveman at my side. A caveman who was quite possibly going to blurt out what I’d done and ruin any chance I had of extending my contract with Horus. In fact, I’d probably get fired.
Where was a sand snake dimension when you needed one?
The three of them crowded in around us and I swear those butterflies returned with a fury, definitely intent on suffocating the life out of me.
I was so doomed.
“Mr. Fairchild, this is our newest and most impressive recruit, Parker Brown.” Jackson grinned at me.
I held out my hand to Mr. Fairchild.
Franklin Fairchild was from Boston’s old money. He’d taken what he’d inherited as a young man and quadrupled it by investing it wisely. By his own admission, he was surrounded by a great team of advisors. It was those same advisors that told him renewable energy was a smart place to invest.
He wasn’t particularly green, which chafed a little, as he had way more input in the company than I’d thought a guy like him would have time for.
Fairchild shook my hand, an aggressive, energetic pump up and down. “Tiny woman, big brain, huh?” He laughed.
Oh yeah, like I’d never heard that one before. My smile was pained. When Jackson turned to Rhys, my smile was paralyzed with agony.
“And this must be the boyfriend.” Jackson couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. Of course he was surprised! Rhys was not at all what anyone would expect of me and I certainly knew I wasn’t Rhys Morgan’s type. A guy like him probably dated women with massive breasts and asses honed to defy gravity from daily squat thrusts.
My mouth was opening, the word no about to spill out in great vehemence when—
“Yeah.” Rhys held out a hand to shake Jackson’s. “I’m Parker’s boyfriend. Rhys. How’s it going?”
I think my brain was having a signaling issue because I thought I just heard him say he was my boyfriend.
Rhys smirked at me, the devil dancing in those disarming eyes.
He did!
He most assuredly did!
What the heck was he up to?
I was going to vomit. I was going to vomit all over Mr. Fairchild’s Prada loafers.
“Rhys?” Mr. Fairchild practically bulldozed past Jackson to get to my tormentor. “Rhys Morgan, I’ll be damned.”
Wait, what?
I watched Fairchild pump Rhys’s hand, grinning at him like he was the second coming, and then felt the floor disappear beneath me when he turned to Jackson and said, “You didn’t tell me Parker was dating Rhys Morgan.”
At our blank expressions, Fairchild guffawed. “He’s only the best goddamn heavyweight boxer this country has seen in a generation.” He clamped a hand down on Rhys’s shoulder. “You’re sitting with me, son.”
What?
As Mr. Fairchild led Dean’s brother into the restaurant, Rhys looked over his shoulder at me and winked.
Actually winked.
Ugh, he was the devil.
In all my sand-snake dimension wishing, had I inadvertently wished open a gate to another dimension where an angry boxer just lied to my bosses about dating me?
Jackson and Camille grinned. “Guess who just became teacher’s pet,” Jackson teased. At my frown, he laughed. “I’m kidding. But it’s always great to keep Fairchild interested at these dinners. This is good, Parker.”
No.
This was a disaster.
Three
Rhys
What the hell was I doing? Though I ambled at apparent ease by Fairchild’s side, it felt like I was hurtling downhill on a runaway cart. I didn’t want to be here. I sure as hell didn’t want to be arm candy for an entitled—albeit cute—rich chick. Yet here I was, walking through a restaurant that looked more like an exclusive gentlemen’s club library.
Patrons watched us pass, more than one set of eyes lingering on my ripped jeans and scuffed work boots. This was a place for suits and silks, not rough and scruff.
The responsible side of me was saying get out, turn around and get the hell out now,