So, this is what it feels like when I fuck a girl then tell her I’ll call her later. Constantly checking my phone for missed calls and texts, checking to make sure I didn’t accidentally turn off the ringer, contemplating calling her to put myself out of this misery. I’m disappointed in myself. But I guess I can excuse this behavior by simply acknowledging what’s at stake: the possibility of supplying electrical power to hundreds of millions of third world citizens.

Yep. That totally excuses my chick-like behavior.

I hand the guy behind the counter at Starbucks a ten-dollar bill for my six-dollar coffee, and I almost tell him to keep the change, but that kind of tip for a barista will probably draw attention to me. And right now I’m trying my hardest to blend in, which is why I’m at a Starbucks instead of a bar, wearing a plain black T-shirt with some jeans, a Colorado Rockies baseball cap, and some cheap sunglasses I borrowed from Hector.

I sit down at a table near the window and sip my black coffee as I open up my Facebook app to see what’s going on today. Most of my five thousand Facebook friends are people I don’t know, people my old assistant added as a courtesy. But she also created filters for my newsfeed so I only see the status updates of the people who matter to me. I’ve been thinking about friending Kara on Facebook to make our possible pretend relationship look more real, but I still don’t know her last name to look her up. I could easily ask Mick for it, but I don’t want to get her in trouble at work.

The first status update at the top of my newsfeed is from Alyssa Frey:

Ugh. I don’t care how hot it is or how many kids you’ve had. No one wants to see pics of your nasty body in a swimsuit. Unfriended!

Alyssa is my friend John’s ex-girlfriend who I sometimes still party with. I tap her name to go to her profile and unfriend her. Then, I let out a cool, cleansing breath as I sit back in my chair. That felt good.

In ten minutes of scrolling through my newsfeed, I’ve unfriended more than a hundred people and blocked two who seemed to think their opinions of me were worthy of a status update. I’ve never felt lighter. I’m about to unfriend another girl whose status update says “Some people need to get their shit together and stop texting me. Do you understand the words MOVE ON?” when a text notification comes through.

I call her right away and she picks up after the first ring. “Are you okay?” I ask, because the tone of her text sounded urgent.

There’s a bit of rustling on the other end before she replies. “I’m fine. I just didn’t want to call while I was home. It’s been kind of a…weird day.” She pauses to let out a deep sigh. “I’m on my way to work now, so I only have a few minutes to talk.”

For some reason, I’m getting a strong vibe that she may be married, and that’s why she couldn’t call until she left the house. “Did you think about my proposal?”

“Yes,” she replies quickly. “I’ll do it. But I have three conditions.”

I chuckle as I get out of my chair and head outside into the stifling Vegas heat. “What are your conditions this time?”

“Number one,” she begins. “We can never be seen together in public until the day of the retreat.”

I walk through the Starbucks parking lot toward my car, where Hector and Dex are waiting in the front seat. “Uh…okay. That seems reasonable. What else?”

“Number two: I can back out of this deal anytime before the retreat and you will not tell anyone about our involvement.”

I smile as I slide into the air-conditioned backseat of the Mercedes. “All right. But that doesn’t include Hector and Dex, right? Because they’re always around. They have to know.”

She’s silent for a moment as she thinks about this. “I guess they can know, but only them.”

“Okay, what’s your final condition?” I ask as I hand Hector back his sunglasses.

“No sex. We have to keep this arrangement strictly professional, so we can both stay focused on the end-game.”

This time I don’t laugh. “You expect me to agree to that?”

“Those are my terms. If you can’t agree to all three, then I can’t help you.”

Why do I have a strong feeling her conditions are meant to reduce the risk of her getting caught cheating? And if she is in a relationship, then that whole spiel about not having had sex since she broke up with her boyfriend six months ago was a lie. Who the fuck is this girl and what the fuck am I getting myself into?

I’ll find out who she is soon enough. I just have to figure out a way to get her last name without scaring her or sifting through her personal belongings. I’ll have to get her to slip up.

“You’re on,” I reply confidently. “Come to my penthouse after your shift. We have a lot of work to do. The concierge will escort you up, so you don’t have to be seen with me or my bodyguards.”

“I’ll be there. But don’t forget rule number three.”

I laugh as Hector pulls the Mercedes out onto Tropicana Blvd. “Same goes to you, Miss I Can’t Remember How Many Orgasms I Had.”

I hang up before she can retaliate, then I lean back and close my eyes. I have to remember not to push her boundaries too much on rule number three, otherwise she might enact rule number two, and I can’t have her quitting.

Kara is perfect for this role. She’s smart, sexy, and strong. Stronger than she thinks she is. She’ll have no problem convincing the board members that she’s the kind of woman who can put me in my place and make me settle down. Then, when this whole thing is over and the board decides not to fire me, I can fuck her at least one more time before I move on. Easy come—multiple times—easy go.

Dex calls me from the lobby at 12:38 a.m. to tell me Kara has arrived and the concierge is currently escorting her into the elevator. I quickly end the call and race to the security room in the penthouse. The door in the hallway is labeled ELECTRICAL, and you have to pass through to the back of the electrical-slash-server room to find the door to the security room. It’s a small 8’x12’ room with a wall of monitors streaming security footage, where Hector is currently hanging out with his feet propped up on his desk, watching ESPN Classic on one of the monitors without sound.

“Hector, I need you and Dex to go somewhere for a while.”

He lowers his feet from the desk. “Is that chick here? What’s her name?”

“Her name doesn’t matter. In fact, I’d rather you try to forget her name. Just go have a beer or something, on me,” I say, handing him a $100 bill. “Don’t come back until morning.”

The left corner of Hector’s mouth pulls up in a knowing grin. “Oh, I see. This one’s gonna be an all-nighter. All right, boss.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” I insist and he winks at me as if he understands the need for discretion.

I sigh as I follow him out of the electrical room. When I open the front door to see him out, Kara is standing there with her hand up ready to ring the doorbell.

She looks a bit nervous as Hector passes by her on his way to the elevator.

“Later, boss,” Hector says as he presses the call button.

“Later, man,” I reply with a nod, then I turn back to Kara and flash her a warm smile. “Good evening, Future Mrs. Westbrook.”

Her eyes widen and she glances over her shoulder to see if Hector is still there. He smiles and waves at her. She turns back to me, and I can see the fury in her eyes as she shoves her way past me into the penthouse. I wink at Hector as the elevator doors open and he flashes me a thumbs up as he disappears inside.

I close the front door and nearly jump out of my skin when I turn around and find Kara’s nose right up to mine.

“Do you think it’s cute to play with my job security? Because I don’t,” she says in a fatal whisper.

“I’m not playing with your job security. I already told you that Dex and Hector have to know about us. And they’re bound by a rock-solid NDA, which they signed with their firstborn’s blood. I can guarantee you they won’t breathe a single word about what happens here. Okay?”

She lets out a deep sigh and her shoulders relax. “This whole thing freaks me out,” she says, turning around to head toward the kitchen. “I feel like my face is going to be plastered on the cover of every tabloid soon. I was checking my rearview mirror for paparazzi on the way here.”

I can’t help but laugh at this, but I immediately stop when she whips her head around and shoots me a deadly look. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about photographers and leeches unless news of our arrangement is leaked. And that’s not going to happen, so there’s no need to worry.” I follow her into the kitchen and reach into the cupboard for a glass to get her some water. “Listen, if it makes you feel better, once your background check goes through, I can program—”

“Background check! You never said anything about a background check!”

“Well, you had to expect that. If I don’t do it, my father will, and you’d rather I do it than him. Trust me.”

She bites her lip as she stands in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the glazed concrete floor. “What kind of background check?” she says, her gaze still focused somewhere near my feet. “I don’t have a criminal history. You can check that out. And I’ve never been in a car accident or gotten a speeding ticket. You can check my driving record.”

I take a tentative step toward her and slowly reach up to raise her chin. “Then, you have nothing to worry about. In fact, as a show of faith, I’ll program your fingerprint into the system now, so you don’t have to bother with the concierge next time. You can just come right on up. Okay?”

She swallows hard then nods. “Okay.”

I lead her into the security room and she still looks very tense as I record her fingerprint in the security software. She hesitates a moment when I ask for her last name, but after she says it aloud she seems to relax. I don’t think she realizes I’m only giving her a temporary guest pass, which will expire after one week. That’s about how long it will take to perform a thorough background investigation. If everything checks out, and I don’t find out she’s on the run from the authorities for murdering her last three husbands, I’ll extend her guest pass until after the corporate retreat.

Once we’re back in the kitchen, she seems a bit more relaxed, but I decide to grab her a beer instead of water, just to continue the trend.

She takes the beer without question and sits down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Okay, where do we begin,” she says, looking up at me as I take the stool next to her.

I chug half my beer and set it down on the counter before I respond. “I was thinking we should start with how we met.”

“Well, Victor and Wyatt saw us meet in the Billionaire Club on Saturday night. Doesn’t that kind of ruin the plan of creating a fictional on-again off-again relationship?”

I shrug. “Maybe we like to role-play. Maybe we were just pretending to meet for the first time.”

“Great. So, now I’m into bad boy billionaires and roleplaying?” she says, then takes another sip of her beer.

“What’s wrong with bad boy billionaires? And roleplaying, for that matter?”

She shakes her head. “Should I be taking notes?” she asks, as she mimes writing on a notepad. “Cash likes roleplaying and bad boys.”

“Very funny,” I say. “We really need to get this straight. I think we should say we met at a club on the Strip, just because it’s always best to make a lie as close to the truth as possible.”

“But I hate clubs.” She reaches out and pokes me in the chest. “And you should know that if we’re getting married.”

I glance down at my chest, then my gaze rises slowly until I’m looking her in the eye. “Do not poke me, young lady, unless you want to get wrestled to the ground.”

She tilts her head and flashes me a smug grin. “Is that a threat or an offer? We mustn’t forget rule number three.”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “You think it’s funny to taunt me and throw your little no-sex rule around at the same time?” I stand up from the stool and step forward until I’m standing between her legs. “Because I can dish it out just as well as you can.” I lean in close and she swallows hard as my mouth comes within a hair’s breadth of hers. “I will have your heart pounding, your tight little ass squirming in your wet panties, begging me to touch you… kiss you… lick you… fuck you…” I step back and smile at the way her chest is heaving with anticipation. “But I’m all about following the rules now. After all, that’s why you’re here. So, if you want to change your mind on rule number three, I will gladly fuck you until you can’t sit right for a week. But until then, don’t poke the beast. Got it?”