I shut down myputer, stretching my arms above my head. The contract had been burning a hole in my bag all af ternoon, making it impossible to focus on anything productive.

My phone buzzed just as I was gathering my things. I grabbed it, heart jumping. Was it Ryan? Some pathetic attempt at reconciliation after I’d caught him balls-deep in my friend?

Or maybe Emilia was checking in. She’d been texting hourly updates since the party disaster, making sure I hadn’t drowned myself in wine or jumped off my balcony.

Unknown Number: Be ready at 8 p.m. Wear something nice, something sexy. I’ll pick you up for dinner.

I stared at the screen, mouth dropping open. Alexander fucking Carter. It had to be.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. How the hell did he get my personal number? Then again, the man had some- how known about my father’s medical needs and my brothers’ financial situations. Getting my phone number would be child’s y for someone with his resources.

Me: How did you get this number? And why dinner? I haven’t agreed to anything yet.

His response came immediately.

Unknown Number: Dinner is casual. No strings attached. Consider it an opportunity to get to know the man you might marry before signing anything. Be my girlfriend for the night. I promise to make it special.

I snorted. Special? What did that even mean? A five-star restaurant where the menu didn’t list prices? Some exclusive club where celebrities snorted coke off each other’s asses?

Me: Only for tonight. This doesn’t mean I’m saying yes to your proposal.

I hit send before I could think better of it. Why the fuck was I agreeing to this? The man had basically offered to buy me as a sex ve with a wedding ring, and here I was, agreeing to y girlfriend for the night.

But I knew why. Curiosity. That’s what I told myself, anyway. Not the way my pussy had clenched when he’d talked about making mee. Not the way my nipples had hardened under his gaze. Just simple curiosity about what kind of man would propose such an arrangement.

Plus, free dinner. My bank ount was crying for mercy after covering Dad’sst round of medications.

I slipped my phone into my purse and headed for the elevator, hoping to avoid further interrogation from my cowork- ers. No such luck.

“Hot date tonight?” Nova appeared beside me, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

-0.0%

16:43

“What? No.”

“Liar. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m-about-to-getid’ look.” She grinned. “Is it the ex? Tell me you’re not going back to that cheating bastard.” “God, no.” I stabbed the elevator button harder than necessary. “I’d rather fuck a cactus.”

“Then who’s got you all flustered? Wait-” Her eyes widened. “Is it the CEO? Did Alexander Carter ask you out?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “He’s my boss. That would be totally inappropri-

ate.”

The elevator arrived, saving me from further interrogation. I waved goodbye and stepped inside, already mentally cat- aloging my closet. Something nice. Something sexy. What the hell did that mean?

I gged down a cab outside the building, giving the driver my address while scrolling through my phone. Should I text Emilia? Should I tell her about this insane dinner invitation? No, she’d either try to talk me out of it or demand toe along as moral support.

“Twenty-six fifty,” the driver announced as we pulled up to my apartment building.

I handed over thirty dors. “Keep the change.”

Inside my apartment, I tossed my purse and keys on the counter and headed straight for the shower. The hot water pounded against my skin as I tried to make sense of what I was doing. Having dinner with Alexander Carter?

“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Olivia,” I muttered, squeezing shampoo into my palm.

Fifteen minutester, wrapped in a towel with my hair dripping, I stood before my open closet. The contents looked pathetically inadequate for a date with one of L.A.’s most eligible bachelors.

I pulled out a ck dress, too funeral. A green jumpsuit, too casual. A white sundress, too innocent.

“Fuck,” I muttered, checking the time. 7:15 already.

My handsnded on a red dress I’d bought for apany Christmas party, but I chickened out of wearing it. The neckline dipped low between my breasts, and the fabric hugged every curve before ending mid-thigh.

Ryan had called it “slutty” when I’d tried it on, which was riching from a man who’d picked out that ck dress with the plunging neckline.

I slipped it on, turning to check my reflection. My breasts swelled above the neckline, creating cleavage that even I had to admit looked spectacr. The dress hugged my waist before stretching taut across my ass.

“Jesus, is this what he meant by sexy?” I wondered aloud, turning to see how much of my ass was visible from be- hind. Enough to get me arrested in some states.

I tried on a blue dress, which was more conservative in the front but with apletely open back. My nipples poked

-38.3*%

16:42

against the silky fabric, clearly visible if I didn’t wear a bra.

“Red or blue?” I asked my reflection, holding both up.

The red was bolder, sexier. The blue was more elegant but still seductive.

I went with the red. If Alexander Carter wanted sexy, I’d give him fucking sexy.

255 149USTINED

As I applied makeup, I couldn’t help wondering what he saw in me. He’d probably been with supermodels and ac- tresses, women with perfect bodies and wless faces. My breasts were nice, sure, but nothing special in a city where stic surgery was asmon as coffee shops.

Was he obsessed with my tits? He’d certainly stared at them. Maybe he had a thing for marketing executives with stu- dent loan debt and family problems.

I added a final coat of red lipstick to match my dress, slipped on ck heels, and grabbed a small purse. The clock

read 7:55.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, heading for the elevator.

Outside, a sleek ck Bentley idled at the curb. The driver’s door opened, and Alexander stepped out.

Holy shit.

If he looked good in a business suit, he looked fucking edible in dark jeans and a charcoal button-down that stretched across his broad shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal muscr forearms. ulli/li/ul