~ 1

Chapter 1

~ Kesley ~

"Girl, you look like a whole different person!"

I stared at my reflection in Taraji's mirror. The red dress was so tight I could barely breathe. The neckline showed way too much. My face was covered in heavy makeup — dark foundation, thick eyeshadow, and bright red lips.

I looked terrible. Which was exactly the point.

"That's what we're going for," I said, clipping on some tacky gold earrings. "Your dad's friend needs to hate me, remember?"

Taraji laughed from her bed. She was eating chips and watching Korean dramas like always. "I can't believe you're doing this again. This is the third time!"

"Yeah, well, you better have my thousand dollars ready." I checked my makeup one more time. "My laptop is dying and I need that money."

The laptop situation was getting desperate. The screen flickered every time I opened it, and half the keys stuck when I typed. I needed it for coding practice, for building my portfolio, for everything. Without it, my already slim chances of getting hired would drop to zero.

"It's in my purse." Taraji grinned. "You're saving my life, Kels. Dad won't stop setting up these stupid blind dates."

I rolled my eyes. "That's because the last two guys ran away screaming."

"Because you told one of them I was allergic to successful men!"

"And the other one that you collected toenails as a hobby." I laughed. "Hey, I'm good at my job."

And I really was. The first guy had been so horrified he'd actually left money on the table and walked out before the appetizers arrived. The second one had made it through dinner but spent the entire time looking at me like I was an alien. Both times, Taraji's dad had finally stopped pestering her about marriage. At least for a few weeks.

"Speaking of jobs, any news from SpecterTech?"

My smile faded. "Nope. I got an automated email this morning. Basically means they're not interested."

"Don't say that…"

"Taraji, I've applied to twelve companies in six months. Nobody wants to hire a female tech person. They all want guys." I sighed. "Maybe sabotaging blind dates is my actual career now."

It was frustrating beyond belief. I'd graduated top of my class. I could code in seven different languages. I'd built apps that my professors had called "innovative" and "impressive." But the moment I walked into an interview and they saw I was a woman, the energy in the room changed. Suddenly they were asking me if I could "handle the pressure" or if I'd be "comfortable" being the only woman on the team.

As if being a woman made me less capable of writing code.

"Stop it. You're brilliant. They'd be lucky to have you."

"Tell that to the twelve companies that rejected me." I grabbed my purse. "Anyway, who's tonight's victim? Another old, boring rich guy?"

"Probably. Some businessman from Dad's circle. You know the type — bald, fat, thinks his money makes him interesting."

"Perfect. I'll be home in an hour."

…

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the fanciest restaurant I'd ever seen. Everything was white and gold and sparkly. The other people dining looked like they'd stepped out of magazines — women in elegant dresses with real jewelry, men in tailored suits that probably cost thousands of dollars.

I felt completely out of place in my trashy whorish dress and overdone makeup.

The waiter had given me a look when I walked in. Not a good look. More like "are you sure you're in the right place?" I'd nearly turned around and left right then, but I needed that thousand dollars too badly.

My leg bounced nervously under the table. Come on, come on. Where is he?

The sooner he showed up, the sooner I could act crazy, and the sooner I could leave with my thousand dollars. Easy money. I'd done this twice before. I could do it again.

I pulled out my phone to check the time. 7:28 PM. He was late. Maybe he wouldn't show up at all? That would be even better. I could tell Taraji the guy stood her up, and she'd still have to pay me for getting all dressed up and coming here.

"Taraji Gilbert?"

The voice came from behind me. Deep and smooth.

I turned around with my fakest smile, ready to meet some ugly old man.

But the person standing there was not old. And definitely not ugly.

He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life.

Tall, dark hair perfectly styled, sharp jawline, bright blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. His suit looked expensive — like, really expensive. The kind of expensive that screamed custom-tailored. He stood there with perfect posture, exuding confidence and power, looking like he'd just stepped off the cover of a business magazine.

I just stared. My mouth hung open a little. My brain completely shut down.

This couldn't be right. This had to be a mistake. Guys who looked like this didn't need arranged blind dates. Guys who looked like this had women throwing themselves at them everywhere they went.

"Taraji Gilbert?" he asked again, raising an eyebrow.

Oh crap, say something! Stop staring at him like an idiot!

"Yes!" I practically shouted. "Yes, that's me! Hi! Please sit down!"

Smooth, Kelsey. Real smooth.

He sat down gracefully, his movements controlled and elegant. His eyes swept over me — taking in the dress, the makeup, the cheap jewelry — and I saw a flash of surprise and judgement in his expression.

Okay, Kelsey. He's hot. Really hot. But you have a job to do. Make him hate you. Make him never want to see "Taraji" again.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a piece of gum. Without saying anything, I unwrapped it slowly, the crinkling sound loud in the quiet restaurant. I popped it in my mouth and started chewing.

Loud. Really, really loud. My mouth open, making gross smacking sounds that echoed across our table.

People at other tables turned to stare. An elderly woman clutched her pearls. A waiter who'd been approaching us stopped walking and just stood there, frozen in shock.

The gorgeous man across from me went completely still. His eyes widened just a fraction. 

Good. That's exactly what I wanted.

He took a deep breath, like he was trying to stay calm. Like he was counting to ten in his head. Then, with impressive composure, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card.

Oh right, we're supposed to exchange cards. Taraji had briefed me on this whole ritual.

I fumbled in my purse for Taraji's card. It said "Elementary School Teacher" on it in neat, professional lettering. As he reached out to take it, I pulled it back at the last second.

"Oops!" I giggled like an idiot.

His hand stayed in the air for a moment. He looked annoyed but didn't say anything. He just waited, his expression neutral.

I giggled again — God, I sounded ridiculous — and finally gave him the card.

"Sorry, sorry! Just having fun!"

He took it without speaking and looked down at it, his face revealing nothing.

Meanwhile, I looked at his card while still chomping away on my gum like a cow chewing cud.

Niklaus Specter

Chief Executive Officer

SpecterTech

The gum fell out of my mouth.

I read it again, certain I'd misread it.

SpecterTech.

CEO.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

SpecterTech was the company I applied to. The company I'd been obsessively checking my email about. The company that was my last hope of getting a job in tech, my last chance at breaking into this impossible industry.

And this man — this incredibly handsome, powerful man sitting across from me was the CEO.

Shit.