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Three

You owe me, Mel. How could you just walk away back then? What right do you have to come back and disrupt everything? Do you know how hard I’ve worked? Do you hate what I’ve become? But it’s that first one that sticks—You owe me. I will have Mel Atkinson at my side, as my fiancée, no matter what it takes. A slow smile spreads across my face. Because I know exactly what it will take. Or at least, a ballpark idea. Everyone has a number. Even Melissa Atkinson.

Melissa’s POV

Despite having consumed two glasses of wine, I still can't wrap my head around the interaction with Jason earlier today. The outside world is cloaked in darkness, with clouds filling the navy sky and streetlights casting puddles of light on the quiet street. My apartment is located on the outskirts of Boston, the most budget-friendly option I could find that didn't appear to have roaches or mice.

With a sigh, I sink deeper into the bathtub. It should be a perk that a one-bedroom, cramped apartment has a bathtub, but it lacks a shower. I promised myself I'd save every penny I could, so I'd endure an apartment that's less than ideal for now.

But tonight, I need to relax.

The memory of Jason's eyes, the way they flashed with danger, sends a shiver through my already tense muscles. He's clearly a man accustomed to getting his way.

With that outrageous proposition he threw at me—calling it an "offer" is a generous description—I can't believe I'm dwelling on his dominant display that left my knees weak and my desire growing moist. That nearly had me... agreeing.

No. It's preposterous; you can't pretend to be his fiancée.

The voice of reason in my head breaks through as I take the last sip of wine, and I recline further in the water. At least it's Friday, and I don't have to return to the office or worry about work until Monday.

However, that means I have the entire weekend to think too much about how close we used to be. How he riled me up with his attitude, the curl of his lip as he leaned in, and boxed me against him with his hand on my lower back...

A surge of desire shoots down to my core, and I press my thighs together, squeezing them. "Ugh. No."

I cannot be attracted to Jason Shane. Not now, not when he's my boss.

Not ever. Not after how you left things.

True.

A small part of me realizes there's a good chance he'll treat me poorly because of our past. I can't blame him, but that was over a decade ago. I always assumed he moved on from me quickly and found someone else. He was so handsome back then; girls probably flocked to him as soon as I was out of the picture.

But now... now, he's so much more.

My mind replays the image of water droplets slowly sliding down his torso, clinging to every dip and curve of muscle. I imagined myself licking that water from his body.

The glow of my phone illuminates the dim room, and I sit up suddenly as if caught doing something wrong.

Jodie.

That's my initial thought. I moved to the city a week ago, and she's been checking in every day. She'll definitely want to know how my first day went.

But it's not her name displayed on the screen. It's a number I don't recognize.

There's a link, but I don't click it. Instead, my eyes move to the number just below it. A six-figure sum.

Oh no.

I know precisely what this is. The other part of Jason's proposition. This must be why he appeared so self-assured when I declined him at the office. I hadn't let him finish, but he was planning to offer me half a million to play the role.

Taking a deep breath, I click on the link. It takes me to the company's website, featuring information about the company retreat at a place called Jada Loraine, situated in Colorado.

Numbly, I scroll through the photos. The Loraine is breathtaking, as expected. The privileges of working for a company like Dupont. Numerous pools, water features, sunken bars, a sauna, a spa, even hikes through enchanting woods and well-maintained meadows.

I can picture myself standing waist-deep in the pool, soaking in the emerald trees and getting a tan.

"Isn't this something your girlfriend can handle? " I type rapidly, not wanting to second-guess my frustration and wuss out.

Jason's reply arrives promptly: "I don't have one. I don't date."

"Don't you have some intern fawning around, waiting for an opportunity like this? To sleep with the CEO?"

"You volunteering?" The response sends my face flushing and my body heating up. Before I can regain my composure from the shock, he adds: "To get the company, I need a fiancée. Not an office fling."

I have numerous questions but stop myself from texting back. I've had two glasses of wine, after all, and I don't want to get too cheeky with him.

Scrolling up, I examine the number again. That amount of money would cover a year's worth of Jodie's medical bills and chip away at some of the debt.

Holding my breath, I make a decision.

It's the one that Jason assumed I'd agree to as soon as I entered his office earlier today. My heart clenches in my chest. I don't want him to perceive me as a money-hungry person, but...

Okay, I type. Tomorrow. We need to discuss logistics.

Before I can change my mind, I toss my phone onto the bathroom rug.

"What am I doing?" I groan, sinking deeper into the water. I need something to distract me from this mess.

As the water slowly eases my muscles, I notice my hand drifting lower, grazing my stomach and sliding between my legs.

Somehow, I'm already aroused. Probably thanks to a day filled with adrenaline and a half-naked Jason.

I play with myself teasingly, just brushing my clit as my legs tense. A surge of desire courses through my body, and I arch my back with a low moan, grateful that the walls here aren't thin.

Within moments, I'm well on my way to an orgasm. One that will relieve the day's stress. I let my legs fall apart as I tease myself more, slipping my fingers between my slick folds, enjoying the sensation of the cool air on my nipples.

Just as I'm nearing the edge, Jason's face crosses my mind. Those piercing eyes, his slightly parted lips. I reach back to a memory—his face buried between my legs, one hand gripping my thigh as he thrust his tongue inside me while playing with my clit.

With a gasp, I withdraw my hand.

I can't allow myself to fantasize about Jason Shane. He's not only my boss, but I've just agreed to go on a two-week retreat with him as his fake fiancée.

The last thing I need is to conjure up fantasies about his alluring body and the ways he can pleasure me.

No, I can do this. I need the money desperately, and while Jason may be the boss, I know him—the real him. He intends to use me to secure the company.

Fine. I'll use him just as readily.

Jason Shane will never, ever, have me on my knees.

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