Contract Marriage With My Ex's Boss

Hailey's POV

"Asshole!" I yell at the driver of the black Harley that just sped through a puddle, splashing muddy water all over me.

"How much worse can this day get?" I mutter, wiping at the mess on my once-vibrant red skirt. 

As if being late for my interview wasn’t enough, my car had to break down halfway there. And now I look like a rejected extra from a detergent commercial.

Great. Just great.

Next time I see that biker, I swear I’ll give him a piece of my mind. But first, I have an interview to somehow survive. Hopefully they won’t reject me based solely on my... swamp aesthetic.

"I mean this in the kindest way possible, but you look like a mess," is the first thing I hear as I push open the building door. 

A hot, blonde-haired guy stands just inside the lobby, clearly amused.

"Gee, thanks. I hadn't noticed," I mutter, glancing down at my skirt with a frown, wishing the stain would just disappear. 

He chuckles, falling into step beside me. "You're here for the interview right?" 

I nod cautiously. 

"Follow me." 

"Don't I get a minute to clean up first?" I ask. "With my current state, I don't think I'm ready to go in just yet."

"No can do. If you'd shown up thirty minutes ago, like you were supposed to, maybe." He shoots me a pointed look. "But you didn't. So this version of you will have to do."

I almost like him, until he opens his mouth again. For a man, he's got a lot of sass. 

He leads me down a hallway and into what looks like a conference room. A man and a woman sit at opposite ends of a polished oak table, both watching me with unreadable expressions.  

My palms go clammy. Under their silent stare, I lower my eyes and step forward.

"Hailey Cranston, am I right?" the man asks. 

I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders, lifting my chin, trying my best to appear more confident than I currently feel. 

Fake it till you make it, they say. 

"Yes." 

"You're late. I don't like lateness," he states flatly. 

His observation makes my confidence falter. 

I know I'm late, and I know they must've realized that. But I didn't expect that to be the first thing they'd hit me with. 

Though as disarming as it is, I'd take it over them making mention of the obvious mud on my outfit. 

"I know," I say, trying to stay composed. "My car broke down on the way." 

The man watches me silently, his lips pursed, and then he opens his mouth to say something, but laughs instead. 

I just stare, my brows furrowed in confusion. 

I turn to the woman to see that she also has a smile on her face. 

What is happening?

"Relax, Miss Hailey," he says. "I'm sure you've realized this isn't your typical interview."

 I'd noticed the weird energy since I'd stepped foot in the place, but I just brushed it off as stress. 

He chuckles when I don't give a reply. "We won’t bore you with questions. Just hand over your CV. We’ll look through it and get back to you."

I frown, looking between them. "That it?"

"What were you expecting?" 

"I don’t know. Questions? Something to test my work ethic?"

 I should probably take the opportunity and get this done quickly before they change their mind, but I find it all too strange to ignore. 

"Like I said," he replies, "not necessary. You do have your CV, right?"

"Yes... I mean, I should." I reach into my bag, rifling through folders and pockets.

But it’s not there.

I frown, digging again, dumping half the contents onto the table. Nothing.

What the hell?

I could've sworn I put everything I needed into my bag this morning. I didn't leave it in my car. I know I didn't. Why can't I find it anymore?

Tears spring into my eyes, my frustration growing. 

"I know I put it in here," I whisper to myself, trying my hardest to hold back the tears, my eyes scanning every corner of the bag.

"Is there a problem, miss?" It's the woman asking this time. 

"No, just—just a minute," I say, forcing a smile.

Panic creeps as I check again, even though I know it's useless now. My fear is confirmed when I come up empty, again. 

Where is it?!

"You're clearly not prepared for this," the man says. 

"I am... I mean—I was!" I shout, more forcefully than I intended, my frustration boiling over. "Just hold on, please." 

"We don’t have all day. You were already late. We’ve been patient."

"Please," I beg. "Today's just been a really bad day for me. I promise I'm not usually like this. I can do better, just give me another chance to prove myself." 

The two exchange a look, silent but saying everything. Finally, the man sighs. "Next week. We'll let you know the time. Just come prepared." 

I nod so fast it makes me dizzy. Relief washes over me. "Yes. Yes! Thank you! You won't regret it. I promise!" 

He mutters something along the lines of, "We'd better not," under his breath, but I barely hear him through my excitement. 

...

"Yes, Mom," I say into my phone, balancing it between my ear and shoulder as I dig through my bag for my keys. "I told you. It was weird. They barely interviewed me. Just asked for the CV and that was it."

"That's a good thing though, isn't it?" she asks

"I guess... if I hadn't lost the damn thing," I mumble, fishing out my keys. 

I try to insert it into the lock, but I find that the door's slightly ajar. 

That's strange. I know I locked it before leaving. 

I hesitate, then push it open and step inside, tossing my bag on the couch.

"Hang on, Mom," I say, distracted. "I think Jake’s home early." 

Mom says something, but I barely hear her. 

"What did you say?" 

She repeats herself but I don't catch it, once again distracted by the soft noises coming from our shared bedroom. 

Frowning, I head toward the door.

"You home already?" Mom asks. 

"Yeah..." I answer slowly, my heart beginning to pound. "Just walked in."

The bedroom door is cracked open, and the sounds are louder now. 

I push it open and—

"What the fuck!" I shriek, my phone dropping from my hand, and clattering to the floor. 

Jake is on the bed, his eyes shut in bliss, while another woman’s head is bobbing in his lap.

No. No. No. 

I think I'm gonna be sick. 

"Hailey, is everything okay?" Mom's voice echoes faintly from the phone.

With a trembling hand, I bend to pick it up. 

"I... I’ll call you back, Mom," I whisper, ending the call and letting the phone fall again.

I look back up, my voice shaking. "Jake?"

They hadn't heard me walk in. Not even when I yelled. 

Jake's eyes snap open and land on mine, slowly widening in surprise. 

If I thought coming home to find my boyfriend cheating was the worst thing that'd happened yet, I was wrong. 

The girl pulls away, turns to face me, and smirks.

"Char... Charlotte?"