Faking For Mr. Pope (City Billionaires Book 1) Read online

  I rush forward, careful not to spill his overflowing coffee. “No, sir.”

  I set the mug down on his desk and then I just stand there waiting. I should rush back out. Drop the coffee on the desk and walk out the door. But it’s like my mind is devoid of a central thought process.

  “Can I help you with something?” he asks.

  Leave.

  Move.

  Walk away from him, you weirdo.

  I should absolutely turn and run, but I can’t stop staring into Mr. Pope’s arresting eyes. Dark, stormy, icy blue eyes that look like they undress every woman he meets immediately.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Then you can go now.” He literally shoos me away with the back of his hand.

  I turn on my heels and start to rush out of the room. Then I remember.

  “Oh, actually there is one more thing, there’s a Roberta on line two.”

  I quickly shut the door to his office as he curses under his breath. I’ve never been so mortified in all my life, but damn he’s just so good-looking it should be a sin.

  3

  Nicholas

  Fuck.

  I’m not really sure what was up with the new assistant just now, but I make a mental note to find out what her deal was as soon as these investors have left my office.

  Investors…I wanted to put my own money up on this deal, but Paul my lawyer advised me not to. He said I needed more capital, and that this deal was a no brainer. Last time I allow Roberta to throw me a bone.

  Roberta, ugh, my ex. She runs in the same circles I do, and believe me, I’ve been trying for ages to stop just that. But this is a business, you’re meant to play nice even though you don’t want to. It’s all about the bottom line. All about making those profits. And this is the last time that I let her dictate to me what I should be doing.

  I step out of my office to take Roberta’s call privately in one of my conference rooms. Paul knocks on the door right before I pick up the call with her.

  “Want to grab lunch?” he asks me.

  “The investors are still here and I have to deal with Roberta.” I point to my phone. “She’s been waiting for a while.”

  “Ah, let her sit on hold until she hangs up. Knowing her, she probably already has.”

  I laugh because he’s probably right. Paul has been my best friend and lawyer for a long time. The offer to leave for lunch is a tempting one, but instead I shake my head and pick up the receiver to the telephone.

  “Roberta,” I say into the line, giving Paul a little shrug.

  “Nicholas, how are you?” I can hear the honey in her voice. Only this isn’t natural honey; no, this is toxic honey sound which she only uses when she’s trying to get her way.

  “What happened with the deal?” I ask her. “I thought this was supposed to be an easy one.”

  “I said it would be easy for you to close the deal.”

  “Well, who is this man they need to talk to?”

  She laughs. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle everything. Also, I’m having a party at my penthouse suite. You must come. We can discuss things further. I’ll send the details to your email.”

  I inwardly growl. I don’t want to go to any fucking party with her, but Roberta has always had a knack for getting her way. I mutter a ‘sure’ and hang up.

  This deal was supposed to be easy. What a fucking lie because this deal has been anything but easy.

  It feels like back in the day, when I was trying my hardest to grow this company from the ground up. It wasn’t easy back then, but at least I made all the decisions. I didn’t leave it to outsiders to dictate the terms of my deals. I didn’t even have money for lawyers back then.

  No, I worked my ass off to hustle and make a name for myself. Relying on my instincts. Relying on my ability to seal a deal in only the way that I can.

  So what am I doing right now? Bending over backwards for some investors to rush in and act like they own the place? I don’t fucking think so. This is my name on the building not theirs.

  I take a deep breath, ready for this meeting to be over with. I have an assistant to reprimand, and now my mind’s gone south, dragged into the trenches with her.

  I forget her name– something like Kelly or Keisha, but whatever it is, she’s hot as fuck. I’ve never been attracted to a temporary employee before but this one is different.

  First, she’s beautiful. She has the curvaceous body of a Bond girl, brown flawless skin, and her hair cascades past her shoulders in a large mane of dark brown coils. I can’t stop looking at her.

  Second, she isn’t scared of me like all the others were. She’s young, and probably inexperienced, but she’s definitely a little firecracker with an attitude that lets me know that she’s a feisty one in the bedroom, or at least I picture her that way. In fact I’ve pictured it many times. Too many.

  I shake my head and return to my office. I’m trying to remain focused in this business meeting. I need to keep my head in the game. My eyes on the prize. And that little assistant needs to stop taking up all the prime real estate front and center in my brain.

  Fuck.

  “We appreciate the offer, Mr. Pope. We’ll have to talk to Mr. Landers.”

  “Mr. Who?” Who is this they’re talking about now?

  “Are you not the ones footing the bill? Roberta told me you were the men to see.”

  “No, we are just here to get the details for our boss.”

  I slam my finger onto the intercom button. “Kelly, get in here.”

  The door opens a few seconds later and I swear I see red. Anger isn’t even a strong enough word to articulate the way I feel right now.

  “It’s Keisha,” she practically spits back at me.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Keisha, will you please show these two gentlemen out of my office.”

  Both men stand, pleading their case with me, not wanting the meeting to end just yet. “Sir, we didn’t mean to offend, but Mr. Landers never meets with anyone.”

  I lean over my desk, palms flat on my desk. “I’m not just anyone, now am I?” I swear I could breathe fire if I tried hard enough.

  The heat in my voice seems to take my new little assistant aback. She’s usually not affected by my temper, but I haven’t been this angry in a while and she’s new. It’s only been a week. She hasn’t seen the darkest parts of me yet.

  My eyes snap to hers in an attempt to mentally tell her that everything’s ok. Then she visibly relaxes. I have to admit that I like that she understands me without me even having to say a word.

  “Keisha, tell these men the deal is off the table.”

  Both men protest, but I’m no longer listening. Instead my eyes are on her ass as she ushers the two angry men out of the office.

  “Gentlemen, the exit is this way,” she says with a professional but fierce determination that’s hot. “Please follow me.”

  And when the door shuts, I want nothing more than to pull my dick out and jerk off to thoughts of her, bent over my desk, as I pound into her from behind.

  Yeah, I’m fucked.

  4

  Keisha

  After I see the men out through the marble lobby of the building, I take the elevator back up to the top floor. Mr. Pope’s eyes were on fire when he sent these men out of his office.

  I was almost a little afraid of him, but the other part of me is super intrigued. Like what would it be like to have all of that intensity focused all on me?

  Would he be a gentle lover? No, I don’t think he would be. I think Mr. Pope is the type of man to take control in the bedroom. I think he’s the type of man to know exactly what he wants, and he goes after it. I wish it was me.

  It’s not that I don’t think that I’m attractive, I know that I am, but Mr. Pope intimidates me in a way that I’m not used to. We live in different realities and run in completely different circles. I’m lucky if I can get a date with someone who actually has a job, but Mr. Pope is used to dating women on a
different level. Models. Actresses. Women from wealth.

  The problem with me though, is that I think he’s so powerful and sexy that I can’t help but to fantasize a little. Placing myself in their shoes. What if it was me on his arm. In his bed. I’m sure every woman in this company has thought about it at least once or twice.

  It’s completely his fault. He knows that his assholery is amusing, and his arrogance attractive, and the looks that he can give you. Damn. The way his eyes stare a hole right through me make my panties melt a little every single time. Is it wrong for me imagine how his gigantic hands would feel on me, against me, inside of me?

  I head towards my cubicle, his eyes watching me closely through the glass window of his office as I return to my desk. As soon as I take a seat, he calls me over, and of course I oblige. It’s my job.

  “Ms. Turner.”

  I glance up into his powerful eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did those men give you any problems?”

  I wonder what type of problems he’s referring to? Either way I answer honestly, “No, sir.”

  I’ve always been taught from a young age to use sir and ma’am. It just sounds respectful, but every time the word leaves my lips, I swear Mr. Pope audibly lets out a growl and discreetly adjusts himself. It makes me want to keep saying it.

  For him.

  In the bedroom.

  Where would you like me, sir?

  I laugh to myself. Obviously I need to get my head out of the gutter. This isn’t the type of man to even have these types of thoughts with. It’s clear he would never be interested in someone like me.

  “I’m glad they didn’t.” He turns to walk back into his office, and for some reason I follow him in.

  He turns around and is startled when he sees me staring at him. I raise my chin, squaring my shoulders.

  “Is there anything else you need, sir,” I let the word roll off the tip of my tongue.

  At this point I’m batting the word playfully around in the air to get a reaction out of him. It’s working. I can’t help but notice how his eyes heat up.

  “No, Ms. Turner.” But he lingers, unable to break the gaze we’re now in.

  I’m so proud of myself when I finally break the stare-off and turn to leave. I’m proud I didn’t actually jump on top of him here in the office, because I very much wanted to. He’s so sexy, it’s a sin.

  I rush off to my desk, noticing all the stares from the other women in the office directed my way. Not a single one of us has a chance in hell with Mr. Pope, but I’m learning how women can sometimes act in an office setting. Competitive. Territorial. Petty. So I give my best mean girl glare back and sit down in my office chair. Ignoring the murmuring around me.

  I click through a few emails, forwarding on a party invite for Mr. Pope a few weeks from now. Sounds fun.

  I lean back in my chair, daydreaming on what it would be like to live like the rich and famous. Extravagant parties, being waited on hand and foot and wearing all the trendy latest fashions. Drinking champagne like it flows from the tap and not having a worry in the world. Unfortunately, it’s a life of privilege I’ll never know. It’s a life I can’t even pretend to fully understand.

  I click open another email and forward it off to Mr. Pope. Dentist.

  Of course, he goes to the dentist regularly. Because that’s what rich people do. They drink champagne for breakfast and go to the dentist. How else would he have such sparkling white teeth?

  His smile suits him well. Everything about him suits him. It’s like all the gods and creators got together and decided to try for perfection, and well they damn near succeeded. Except for one thing. His personality needs a bit of work. If maybe he were a bit nicer.

  And then I wonder to myself, is this who he really is? Hard. Calculated. Cold. He can’t be this hard—this cold--all the time, can he? Really mean people don’t have friends, but he definitely has some. I’ve seen them. The man with sandy-brown hair who visits regularly. If I heard correctly, I think the guy is his his lawyer. I’m sure Mr. Pope isn’t a mega asshole to him.

  And what about the long line of women he dates? He has to be pleasant at some point, right? I ponder the questions, plaguing me for answers. Funny thing is, after only a week around the man, I would be interested in getting to know that side of him. The gentle side; if he even has one.

  Ever since I started working here, when I lie awake at night in my tiny room, on my mattress on the floor, I pretend I’m on the arm of Mr. Pope. Hey, it’s easy to daydream when you can’t afford an overpriced cable television bill to pass the time.

  I pretend I’m the blonde at his party and that I’m the one he’s kissing late at night, offering the world to me. Yet I also need to remind myself that fairy tales are overrated, and this millennial doesn’t need a man to take care of her. Although, sometimes I admit that it would be nice.

  Of course each day that I work for his company brings me closer to not really knowing Mr. Pope as well as I thought I did the day before.

  He is a sexy beast but a total enigma.

  5

  Nicholas

  The proposals are all wrong, but I can’t really say that now, can I? Because if I did, everyone in this office would be fired and I’d have no one left to work for me. Well everyone except for the new assistant who I can’t stop thinking about in a very non-professional manner. I definitely wouldn’t fire her which is crazy. She’s only been here for three seconds.

  What is my deal and when does Joanne come back? She’s been gone for what feels like forever, and this new temp is unnerving. Mainly she’s too good-looking. Too innocent. Too confident. Too something that I just can’t quite put my finger on.

  That something has me walking around my office half-cocked all day, ready to take her into my office and slam her up against the wall and kiss the fuck out of her.

  Fuck.

  I can’t do that can I? No, definitely not.

  Just a few more weeks until Joanne returns and then Kelly, Keisha, or whoever the fuck will go back to wherever she came from and it’s all for the better. Because one second longer I have to be around her is making it dangerously hard not to kiss her. Like I have to mentally remind myself that I can’t have her and there’s good reason for that. She is not my type. Which probably makes her perfect for me.

  Yeah, I’ve got serious issues.

  I laugh the thought away as I glance over my sad stack of proposals once more. I’m not sure if I’m being extremely judgmental, but they look like they were designed by a kindergartener to me. What I need is a fresh set of eyes to take a look.

  “Keisha, can you come in my office now?”

  She’s in my office not even two seconds later.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Eager to please.

  Obedient.

  Damn.

  I loosen my yellow tie. The sound of her calling me sir excites me, but I pretend not to notice the way she draws the word out.

  “What do you think of these?” I show her the graphics for a new client and her eyes narrow as she looks it over.

  “Can I be honest?”

  I lean back in my seat, noticing how close she is to me, her long legs stretching up into her skirt.

  “Yes, please.”

  It’s kind of why I asked her. Somehow I knew she would be honest with me, giving me an answer most people wouldn’t, and it’s that refreshing honesty which intrigues me about her. Most people are afraid of me around here– but not her.

  “I think the images are a bit….childish,” she says.

  Ha, my thoughts exactly.

  “Thank you.”

  Her perfume travels through the air, a flowery scent that doesn’t seem familiar, enticing me with it’s sweet aroma.

  “That’ll be all.” I dismiss her gruffly before my hand traces up her silky thighs and up under her skirt. I ball my hand into a fist just to be sure I don’t touch her.

  God, I need to get laid. Mainly just to stop the thoughts of fucking
my assistant. It’s been too long since I’ve been with any other woman. I took a well needed sexual hiatus after Roberta, and I guess my little break is taking a toll on me. Must be why it’s so hard being in such close proximity to Keisha.

  And I do mean hard.

  The rest of the day I try my best to ignore my curvy little assistant, but I keep running into her everywhere I go. Maybe by accident or more likely on purpose. I’ve seen her by the coffee machine, the kitchenette, and near the office restrooms. Three places I rarely visit throughout the day. Hell, I have my own bathroom in my office, and I never get my own coffee or microwave my own lunch, but seeing her there makes my feet gravitate towards her direction.

  We make idle chit chat while I sip on lukewarm coffee, but I’m not exactly sure of anything we discussed. My eyes were focused on her pink painted lips the entire time while she rambled on about email filters or some shit. All I know is that by the end of the workday I couldn’t leave quick enough. I needed to get out of there. It’s her, she does something to me.

  Just a few more weeks and she’ll be gone though and I can’t wait; but then my mind drifts to thoughts of when she will finally be out of the office and a slight jolt rushes through me. An angry jolt. As much as I hate having her around, the pleasure of having her around is there too. I might just hate it if she leaves. When she leaves.

  “Fuck!” I slam my hand on my desk.

  If I can’t have this chick soon, I won’t be able to last much longer. Maybe the solution is to fuck her out of my system. Yeah, maybe I can fuck her and forget her, but no– that’s always a bad idea. Fucking employees is how you get yourself into trouble. Big trouble just like Charles Millerson.

  That idiot slept with a few of his assistants, and then had one of them turn on him. It turned into a PR nightmare for the idiot. He lost his wife first, then his company, and if I’m not mistaken I think he’s still living off his father’s trust fund trying to find a wealthy socialite to take him in. But with a past like his, there aren’t many women falling at his feet nowadays.