Page 19 of The Player + The Pact = I Do

Apparently, Leo doesn’t think his fiancée would wear slightly too-big suits.

Hence, exhibit A: bright red heels as high as the Empire State Building, click-clacking on the pavement each time I take a step. And exhibit B: a dress that would be tight if I was going out to a bar, let alone sitting behind my desk all day. I even got my hair blow-dried after work yesterday as Iformulated my plan for a quid pro quo. It hits my waist even with the ends curled. I’m one hundred percent Jules Moore. Myself squared. Because I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want, including a full-onPretty Womantransformation.

Today I have to convince Leo Hart to take me to the awards ceremony as his fiancée in return for hiring me as the manager of The Mayfair.

“Excuse me, miss,” the security guard calls as I get to the turnstiles. “Can I check your ID?”

I hold up my lanyard as I walk toward him. I usually wear it around my neck, but I don’t want to spoil the effect.

He looks between me and the picture on my pass. Once, then twice. “Oh, okay, Jules. Didn’t recognize you there for a second.”

I smile at him. It’s the exact kind of reaction I was hoping for. “No problem,” I call, giving him a special toss of my hair before I move through the turnstiles and wait for the elevator.

I hope Leo’s not early again today. I want to get organized. Rehearse the arguments I’m going to put to him just one more time. Go through the questions I have for him. But I also want to get into the office before the bulk of people arrive. I don’t want to deal with people at Hart Developments either asking me why I’m dressed up or awkwardlynotasking. I can’t decide which would be worse.

I get off at the fifty-sixth floor and I have to switch on the lights. That’s a good sign. I might get to my desk without anyone but the security guard questioning me. I undo the buttons on my raincoat and head to my desk, which is in Leo’s outer office.

Unfortunately for me, Colin is already in. “Morning, Jules,” he calls, and then turns, smiling. His smile turns toshock when he takes in my change in office attire. “You look… different,” he says, trying to be diplomatic.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say as I sweep past him. “See you later.”

I shrug off my coat. Even though I’ve had this dress for a couple years and feel totally comfortable in it outside the office, I still feel oddly self-conscious. Maybe it’s the heels. I swear I could get arrested for having a deadly weapon. A small sharp swipe and I could definitely poke someone in the heart with these.

Maybe I need to somehow arrange to be bending over the photocopier or printer when Leo arrives.

I log on to my computer, check I have his day pack of materials for his meetings, and tell myself again why it’s worth me hiring myself out for the evening. It doesn’t make me a prostitute. There will be no sex. Leo is a player, a playboy, goes through women like they’re water and he has a habit of showering three times a day, but he’s not an asshole as a boss. He’s not going to make a pass at me, even if he does find me attractive. As long as I can hold myself together and not lick his face, I’m golden.

There’s no going back now. I’m here, I’m ready. I just need Leo to see that I’m the answer to all his problems. He gets a new manager at The Mayfair and a fiancée. It’s a double win for him. And I can find him a good assistant. This job pays good money. I can probably find someone to fill the position in twenty-four hours.

I hear Leo’s laugh in the outer office, where all the employees of Hart Developments work except Leo and me. He always stops to chat to people as he arrives. He’s a popular guy. People like working for him. I’d like working for him if he was five notches less attractive than he is.

I stand and round my desk, so he can get a head-to-toe view and really take me in—proof that I’m Leo Hart fiancée material. I’ll also be ready to offer him coffee (which he’ll turn down) and say good morning to my boss.

“Morning, Jules,” he says, bursting through the door beaming. He freezes as he sees me. His eyes dip to my bright red lips, and then he frowns before letting them trail down my body. Then, like he catches himself being office-inappropriate, he shakes his head. “Good to see you. How are you?”

“Good. I have your pack ready.” I pick the papers up from my desk and follow him into his office. “Would you like a coffee?”

He takes a seat behind his desk, and when he looks up at me, he startles, then immediately trains his eyes on his computer screen.

The screen that’s still dark, because he hasn’t turned it on yet.

“No, thank you.”

“I’ve been through your emails,” I say. “Nothing urgent has come in overnight. New River architects want a meeting. I’ve given them some times next week.”

“Right,” he says, and I can tell he’s not concentrating.

“And in between your meetings, I thought we could talk.”

His eyes slide to mine, and I get a jolt in my chest like someone’s tapping on my sternum with a hammer.

“Talk?” he asks, in a tone like he’s concerned he might be just about to step on a landmine and he’s trying to be relaxed, despite being in a life-or-death situation.

“Yes, just picking up on some of the things we discussed yesterday. I know you ruled me out being your fiancée, but I think I’d be perfect for the role. Our meet-cute makes sense.We work together. Boss-employee things happen all the time.”

He puts up a hand to stop me. “Meetwhat?”

“How we met. Our meet-cute.”

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