Novels by KECHI

I sigh and rub my temples as I step into the luxury department store. After the morning I’ve had—being bent over a kitchen counter by my boss and then basically being proposed to for a business arrangement—I deserve a new pair of shoes.My Zara shoes were officially retired after the yogurt incident.I pick out a pair of sleek, black stilettos with red bottoms and hand my card to the cashier with a small, tired smile.“Declined,” the woman says after swiping it.I blink. “I’m sorry? Try again, please.”Even if I didn’t have money on the card—which I most definitely did—Scott was supposed to send me money for playing girlfriend this morning.She swipes it again. “Declined, ma'am.”I pull out my spare credit card that I only use for emergencies. Of all days that my credit card company decided to screw me over, it was this one. Fuck. “Try this one.”“Also declined.”My heart does a weird little skip.That wasn’t possible.I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I logg int

Scott's cold hands slide over my boobs, cupping them and squeezing them gently. One finger brushes over my nipple and I gasp in pleasure and surprise.It’s been far too long.His groin area, which is hard, presses into me deliciously. The fabric of the jean shorts I’m wearing for the homely feel is causing a lot of friction that feels perfect.“Ah,” I moan, as he presses even harder. I should stop this, but I have zero control over how I feel.Fucking ovulation.“Ahem!” Lady Jessica clears her throat in the doorway. I jump away from him like I’ve been caught doing something wrong—I mean, I have.My cheeks flame red.She gives me a judgmental look, or maybe it’s just my imagination.“It was nice having breakfast with you, two,” she finally says in an impassive tone after a few minutes of silence. “While I’d like to stay and ask questions about you, I have a commitment somewhere else.”I nod, licking my lips and then biting them softly.“Have you heard from Rose lately?” his grandmother

“She is under the impression that I have finally ‘settled down.’ She thinks I live in a warm, domestic home and not a glass cage, and if she sees this place looking like a showroom for a bachelor pad, she will stay in New York until she finds me a wife. She needs me to have one before she dies.”I let out a short, surprised laugh, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. “The great Scott Smith is afraid of a little old lady?”He turns to me, his eyes narrowing, and he steps into my space until I can smell the faint scent of whiskey on his skin. “She isn’t just a lady. And she wants to see a life here that I don't have.”He looks at the apartment, then back at me, and I see a lightbulb go off in his head that makes me want to turn around and bolt for the elevator.“Stay.” he says. It isn’t a request.“Excuse me?”“Help me finish this. Help me make this place look like a human being lives here. We will go out to buy plants, move the furniture, hide the whiskey—I don’t care. Just

I recognize her as Rose, the daughter of the Kim family. She gives me a glare and sashays away.Seriously, what for?Scott steps out a minute after her, giving me a long stare.I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Is there any problem, sir?”He cocks his brows at me, still saying nothing.I stand clumsily, gripping the table for support. “Sir?”Still silent.Did I forget to mention that Scott loves to make people guess his mind?His silence makes me know I have done something wrong, but the problem is I am not sure what.Is it walking in on him fucking?Why then did he not send me out?Is it because I spilled the cheese burger and yogurt?“Shi— sorry, yes sir. Right away, sir,” I say, trying to hurry past him. How could I forget that I was to get a new one for him?Scott stops me from moving as his cold and large hands grab my arm gently.I swallow hard.“Sir?” I squeak.“You’re shivering,” he comments, his warm breath fanning my neck. “And your clothes are wet.”For some reason, I fee

Claire’s POVIf I have to hunt down one more brand of homemade artisan goat-milk yogurt for a man who literally has no soul to digest it, I am going to make sure I key that man’s new car.I’m standing under a bus stop shed while the rain pours down mercilessly in torrents, holding a box of burger—because apparently, the texture makes him think well—and goat milk yogurt.Scott Smith is the worst boss I could have ever asked for.And honestly, I should have known that accepting this job offer with such a generous salary meant sacrificing my mental health.I’m surprised I have lasted three years with him.“Omg! Shit!” I curse out loud as a speeding car splashes water all over my skirt. I check on the box I'm holding first because his food matters more than a skirt, and he is so heartless he would literally send me back.Plus, my clothes are already a bit wet. It is a miracle I'm not dripping.My phone keeps buzzing in my pocket, but with my two hands occupied, I can’t check it. I mentall