Une Affaire de Loup: Livre l'une des Trilogie Affaire un Lou

-Leia-

Six years at this company, and I’ve never once raised my voice to my boss, but right now I can’t believe what he’s just asked of me.

“Excuse me?!” my voice comes out like a strangled chihuahua and I damn near drop my coffee. 

He looks at me as if I’ve asked the dumbest question ever, then he sighs. “You heard me, Miss Prescott,” he says, leaning back in his leather office chair that costs more than my annual salary. “Marry my son for ten million and straighten him out.”

Yeah, he definitely DID ask me that, I didn’t hear wrong at all. Alexander Moore might be the most gorgeous 55-year-old man and certified Daddy material, with his big blue eyes and obviously ripped body, but that doesn’t mean I’ll just accept what he’s offering. 

“So, you want me to marry your son? Have you met Christian? He’s a nightmare!” I exclaim, to which he chuckles. Besides, who still does arrange marriages nowadays? What is this, the 1800s?

“Why do you think I came to you before going to one of those darned arranged marriage companies?” He says, then sits forward and steeples his fingers together. 

I gather my thoughts and swallow hard. “What will this marriage entail? Do I have to pop out babies so he can have an heir? Do We sleep in the same bed, what?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all; I simply require you to help Christian’s head back in the game. You see, when Christian is committed to something, he gives his all, so giving him a wife will make him care more about someone else besides himself.”

“I don’t know, sir-”

“Listen, Leia, you’ve been working for me for over six years now and I trust you more than I trust any other woman besides my wife, Olivia. You’re beautiful and smart, you have your head screwed on straight, and you’re headstrong. I mean, you whipped this company and my meetings into shape within the first five months of you being employed here; there couldn’t be a more perfect match for Christian.”

I still can’t believe he’s asking me to do this. My boss might be the most down-to-earth billionaire out there, but his son, Christian, is another story altogether. Nearing 30, he still acts like a frat boy and has slept with nearly half of Manhattan's most eligible women.

While I’m here with my above-average college degree working for his father, Christian does more spending than I ever could in a year. To call him a bad boy is putting it lightly; Christian Moore is hell in a Tom Ford suit. 

It doesn’t help that he’s sexy as heck, too.

I sigh and shake my head. “With all due respect, sir, why would me marrying Christian straighten him out? I’m sure he still hates me for spilling coffee on him that one time and I doubt I’m even his type,” I say, not doubting it at all. 

Christian Moore loved his women tall, with no curves, and blonde. I’m short with red hair and curves for days. I could not be any less his type. As for spilling coffee on him, I had just made a freshly brewed pot and was about to take Alexander a cup when I tripped over the carpet in the office and dumped the contents on Christian’s crotch.

Burnt balls, anyone?

He sighs again. “Two years, that’s all I ask of you. Just think it over and I’ll speak with Christian tonight. Have an answer for me by Monday,” he says, dismissing me from his office.

I nod and offer him a tight smile before taking my cup and walking out and heading to my station. I’ve been working as PA to Alexander Moore since I was 21 years old and fresh out of college, so I know the man inside out, but to ask this of me is asking for too much.

It wouldn’t be a tough choice if he didn’t wave the money in my face, but he doesn’t exactly know I need it. Bad.

A few years ago, an ex of mine stole my credit cards and gambled all the money away. 500k in debt later and I’ve barely scraped the surface in back payments. That and my mother has cancer and needs my help too. 

But marrying someone for ten mil? Could I really go through with that?

I hate that the answer is yes, especially when all I can see is my mother’s face. She needs the money for her treatments and the insurance doesn’t cover everything. It’s up to me since my father left her just after her diagnosis and my other siblings refuse to help.

Thank God it’s 5 pm and time to go home; I could always sleep on this and maybe ask Delilah and Lucas’ input. They’re both my best friends and always know what to say, so perhaps I can cry on both of their shoulders later on. 

Knowing Delilah, she’ll try to convince me why I SHOULD take this offer and try to woo the boss’ son. Lucas will tell me to do it for the cash since my mother needs it. How the heck am I going to do that when I don’t even like the ass? It’s one thing to have confidence and another to just think you’re hot shit. 

And Christian Moore thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. Ugh, I literally roll my eyes at the thought.

On my way home, I call Delilah and ask her to meet up with me the next evening for a few drinks at a cocktail bar. If anything, I think I need to be five daiquiris deep in order to tell both of them what I might be getting myself into. 

Her expression is exactly what I thought it would be the next evening, while Lucas’ jaw is literally hanging open. 

“So Daddy Moore comes to you, literally begging you to marry his hot as fuck son for a cool ten milli and you tell him you’ll think about it?!” Lucas exclaims, downing his cocktail. “Please tell me why you hesitated when you know you need that ten mil.”

I groan. “Because even though his son might be hot as fuck, as you put it, I can’t stand the guy! Not only that but taking money to marry someone is just so…” 

“And that’s a problem, why? It’s not like you two will be married for realzies, anyway. Take the money, marry the jerk, and divorce in two years’ time. You know the money will be a big help.” Delilah says, gesturing for another round of drinks. “Listen, I know you’ll probably feel cheap for doing this, but two years will go by quicker than you can say ‘cash out.’”

I can’t help but laugh at that, but I didn’t need convincing after all, because I already had my mind made up. I’ll marry Christian Moore with only my mother’s treatments on my mind; she needs this, so I have to grin and bear it.