MY FAKE HUSBAND IS MY BOSS

Chapter Three

ONLY ONE BED

The email came Monday morning.

Subject: Client Meeting - Chicago. This Week.

From: Clara@haleenterprises.com

To: Ella Hale, Victor Hale

Note: Booked 1 suite at the Ritz. Only one available due to conference. Mr. Hale approved.

Ella read it three times.

1 suite.

Only one available.

Mr. Hale approved.

She was still "Miss Reyes" to HR. But to the company, to the world, she was "Ella Hale" now.

Her office phone rang.

"Ella. My office. Now."

Victor.

Then he hung up.

She took the elevator to 42. Her hands were sweating.

Victor was standing by the window when she came in. No suit jacket. Sleeves rolled up. He looked tired. Angry.

"Chicago," he said. No hello. "3 days. Client is Worthington Group. $40 million deal."

"I saw the email." Ella’s voice was small. "About the room..."

"There was only one suite left." He turned. "I could have made you sleep in the lobby. But that wouldn’t look very 'married' if the client sees us."

Ella nodded. Her throat was dry.

"Right. Of course. I can sleep on the couch."

Victor stared at her for a long second.

"The suite has a living room. With a couch."

"Good." She smiled too brightly. "Problem solved."

"Don’t."

"Don’t what?"

"Smile like that." He walked to his desk. "Like you’re terrified of me."

"I’m not—"

"You are." He sighed. "Look. Rule 5 still stands. No physical contact. Separate beds. This is business."

"Separate beds," Ella repeated. "Got it."

The flight was Friday. First class.

Victor worked the entire time on his laptop. Ella pretended to sleep.

Every time the plane hit turbulence, his hand would twitch like he wanted to reach for hers.

He didn’t.

The Ritz in Chicago was worse than the penthouse. Bigger.

The suite had a king bed, a living room, and one bathroom.

Ella dropped her bag.

"I’ll take the couch."

Victor was already on his phone.

"Do what you want."

Dinner was with the Worthingtons. 4 people. Very rich. Very nosy.

"Mrs. Hale!" Mrs. Worthington beamed. "Victor never brings anyone to dinners. This is serious!"

Victor’s arm went around Ella’s waist. Automatic.

"Very serious," he said, and kissed her temple.

Ella almost choked on her wine.

His lips were warm. It lasted half a second.

It was for show.

So why did her whole body go hot?

They talked business for 2 hours. Ella smiled. Nodded. Laughed at the right jokes.

When they left, Victor’s hand was still on her lower back.

In the elevator, he dropped it immediately.

"Good job," he said.

"You too. The temple kiss was... convincing."

He glanced at her.

"Was it?"

The suite was silent when they got back.

Ella went to the bathroom first. 20 minute shower.

When she came out in pajamas and a robe, Victor was on the couch, tie off, laptop open.

"You can have the bed," he said without looking up. "I’ll take the couch."

"No, I—"

"Ella."

He finally looked at her.

"I’m 6'3. I don’t fit on that couch. Take the bed."

Her name in his voice did something to her.

"Fine. Thank you."

She climbed into the massive king bed. Silk sheets. She could have fit 3 people.

Victor turned off the living room light. The only light was from the city through the windows.

For an hour she lay there, staring at the ceiling.

She could hear him typing.

Then the typing stopped.

"Ella? You asleep?"

"No."

A pause.

"Good. Me neither."

Her heart was pounding.

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah." Another pause. "This is weird, isn’t it?"

"Very weird."

"Sleep," he said. "We have the meeting at 8."

"Okay."

She closed her eyes.

And finally drifted off.

At 2 AM, thunder cracked.

Ella shot up.

She hated storms.

The power flickered.

Then went out.

The whole suite went black.

"Ella?"

Victor’s voice came from the living room.

"I’m okay," she called.

Her voice shook.

Another crack of thunder. Closer.

Before she could think, she was out of bed and in the living room.

Victor was standing by the window, phone flashlight on.

He turned when he heard her.

She was in pajama shorts and a tank top. No robe.

He was in just sweatpants and a t-shirt.

They stared at each other in the dark.

"You scared of storms?" he asked quietly.

"A little."

The lights flickered back on. Dim.

Victor looked at her.

Really looked.

At her bare legs. At her hair down.

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"You should go back to bed."

"Right. Yeah."

Ella hugged herself.

"Night."

She turned to go.

And slipped.

The floor was wet from the bathroom.

She went down hard.

But she didn’t hit the floor.

Two arms caught her. Strong. Warm.

Victor.

He had her against his chest. One arm under her knees, one around her back.

For 3 seconds, neither of them moved.

Her heart was in her throat. His was pounding against hers.

"Ella," he said, and her name sounded different. Rough.

"Put me down," she whispered.

He did. Slowly.

But his hands lingered on her waist half a second too long.

"Be careful," he said, voice low.

"You too."

They both went back to their separate beds.

But neither of them slept.

In the morning, there was a coffee on the nightstand.

Black.

The way she liked it.

There was a sticky note under it.

Meeting at 8. - V

No "Miss Reyes".

Just V.