All Chapters of HIS MINNIE MOUSE : Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

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

“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 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