Chapter 1
I was Dylan Grant's executive assistant. Six figures a year. Maxed-out benefits. A year-end bonus that just kept coming.
Officially, I plowed through his mountain of paperwork, shut down the endless parade of women throwing themselves at him, and babysat his personal life—made sure he ate, nagged him to actually get some sleep.
Around town, they called me the gold-standard PA. What they didn't know was that I had a side gig.
Andrew Grant slipped me a black card with no limit and a check for a thirty million bucks to take care of his grandson. You know the type. He wouldn't touch a woman with a ten-foot pole.
So by day, I was Sophie Nolan. Sharp. Efficient. Total professional. But when the sun went down? I turned into exactly the kind of woman I'd spent years keeping off his doorstep. Pulling out all the stops to get under that perfect, untouchable skin of his.
*****
"Sophie, take this card. The PIN is six eights. Get the job done, and that check with thirty million is yours," Andrew said.
In the Grant Residence's antique study, Andrew, sharp as ever, slipped the black card into my hand, grinning. He looked like a mischievous old kid plotting something big.
I clutched the kind of card people would kill for, then glanced at the check on the table. For the first time ever, I realized my career was about to hit a whole new level of crazy.
My boss, Dylan, was basically a legend in the capital's elite circles.
He took over Grant Holdings when he was barely out of college—cutthroat and decisive in business, but off the clock, though, he was a man of no wants. No drinking. No parties. No women. Just silence.
There were so many rich girls and socialites chasing after him, but he wouldn't even spare them a glance.
"Mr. Grant, it's no easy task," I admitted, not sugarcoating it.
Dylan was ridiculously good-looking, but in that cool, aloof way. His sharp nose and thin lips looked almost sculpted, and whenever he glanced at someone, it always felt like there was an invisible barrier keeping everyone at arm's length.
Trying to get him to break his no-sex rule? I'd have better luck making Grant Holdings' stock skyrocket tenfold.
"Of course I picked you for this!" Andrew slapped his thigh.
"You've been by his side longer than anyone, you know him inside out. And with a gorgeous beauty like you right under his nose every day, I refuse to believe he's actually made of stone!"
I glanced down at myself. The usual standard-issue work uniform. Black slacks. White button-up. Top button done up to my chin. "Gorgeous woman" wasn't exactly the first thing that came to mind.
"Relax, I'll be your secret ally! I'll feed you all the intel—his schedule, his preferences, you name it!" Andrew winked at me.
"The Grant bloodline can't stop with him!"
Stepping out of the Grant Residence, I sat in my car, stared at the black card in my hand, and took a deep breath.
Thirty million dollars.
That was enough to buy ten apartment buildings back home and just kick back, collecting rent for life.
Alright, game on!
How hard could it be to get close to a man of no wants?
I was Sophie Nolan—a business school star and Grant Holdings' chief secretary. Like hell I'd let a little challenge like this throw me off.
The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror and, for once, popped open the top two buttons of my shirt, showing off my collarbone.
Then I rummaged through my drawer for that "man-magnet" lipstick I hadn't touched in forever, and applied it with extra care.
When I walked into the CEO's office, Dylan was behind his desk, eyes down, lost in paperwork. Sunlight poured in through the giant windows, bathing him in gold. Those dark prayer beads on his wrist—sharp and angular—stood out like a statement piece.
"Here are today's papers for you to sign, Mr. Grant," I said, sliding the documents onto his desk.
I leaned in just enough so he'd catch the barely-there rose scent I'd dabbed on.
Dylan looked up, his gaze pausing on my face for a second before dropping to my open collar. His brow twitched, barely noticeable, but I caught it.
"Button it."
He uttered the command, his voice cool and crisp.
"Huh?"
I acted clueless.
"Button up," Dylan said.
He turned his gaze to the computer screen, not looking at me again. His tone made it clear there was no room for debate.
Well, that was awkward.
Round one: utterly defeated.