After embellishing her resume, Valerie-a single mom-lands a job as an administrative assistant to the hottest, most entitled and obnoxious man she's ever met: Preston Cartwright, the CFO of the prestigious Cartwright & Sons Enterprises.
Several yea...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Twenty minutes. That's how much time I have until Preston will be here. I put the laptop away and glance around my small, outdated apartment as I try to decide what my priorities are. There are dishes in the sink, toys on the floor, coats thrown over the side of the couch, and I'm wearing a ratty old pajamas with bunny slippers.
The good thing is that both kids are sound asleep and the neighbors are not going at it.
I jump to my feet and gather the toys, which I throw into the toy basket next to the couch. It's not the neatest cleanup, but at least it's not a tripping hazard. I tackle the dishes in the sink next. It's a rushed job which soaks the front of my pajamas and when I brush back my hair, I get bubbles in it.
I pull my pajamas off on the way to the bathroom and drop it in the hamper. Once there, I dry my hair off and twist it up into a bun. My heart is racing. I don't know what to wear. I want to look good, but not like I'm trying too hard.
"Oh, god," I groan. I do a quick smell test of my armpits. They smell okay, but I add more deodorant, just in case, and one small spray of perfume.
Settling for a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater that falls off the shoulder, I feel cute and comfortable. Maybe too comfortable?
Ugghhh.
Preston is used to beautiful women. Young women. Models and actresses.
"You're supposed to be shopping for cars, not attempt to seduce him," I tell myself, but it only helps so much.
By the time there's a knock on the door, my heart is in my throat and I'm very glad I added more deodorant. My face is hot and I'm warm all over.
I push the door open and freeze. Preston is there. He has his arm up against the door frame, his suit jacket open and the shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He looks like a dirty dream come true. But it's the look in his eyes that gets to me. It's desire, pure and simple and aimed straight at me.
I gulp. "Hi."
"Hi," he says, and his lips turn up into a smirk because he knows damn well the effect he has on women.
"Um, come in."
He smiles and steps inside. I close the door behind him and lock it. When I turn back around, he has taken off his suit jacket and put it on the back of the chair—where mine and the kids' coats were earlier, before I threw them into the closet and forced the door shut.
Preston glances around the tiny apartment and I know I shouldn't be embarrassed because there is no shame in not being as rich as he is, but his presence makes the apartment feel even smaller than it is.
"Do you want anything to drink?" I ask him nervously. "I have some wine, juice, water, maybe a soda..."
"Val," he says and wraps his arm around my shoulder, guiding me to the couch in front of the open laptop. We sit down next to each other as he says, "I'm fine."
