Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club Book 1)
Faking Ms. Right: Chapter 6

I stared down at my phone, wondering what had just happened. Had my boss just told me to meet him at the Four Seasons? At nine on a Friday night?

That wasn’t even the weirdest part. He’d called me Everly.

I had no idea what was going on. I’d never gone to an event with him before. He always either took a date or went alone. What was going on that he needed me down there? And dress sexy? What the hell?

The Seattle Philanthropic Society Gala was black-tie. The men would be in tuxes, the women in formal evening gowns. I didn’t know if I had a dress that would get me in the door, let alone one that was sexy. This was truly an emergency. So I did the only thing I could. I called Nora.

“Hey, love,” she said.

“Oh, thank god you answered. Are you busy? I have an emergency, and literally no time.”

“Talk to me.”

“My boss needs me to come to a black-tie event. His car is on the way to pick me up. And he said dress sexy.”

“I’ll be right down.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief, then ducked into the bathroom to glance in the mirror at my flat hair and makeup-free face. I wasn’t giving her much to work with. But if anyone could pull this off, it was Nora.

I barely had time to contemplate why Mr. Calloway had put me in this position before Nora banged on my door. I answered and she burst in, a bag slung over her shoulder and a heap of clothes in her arms. She went straight to my bedroom and dumped everything on the bed.

“Thank you so much for coming over,” I said. “I’m so lost right now. Were you busy?”

“Max was over, but I told him I had to go.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.”

She waved a hand. “Don’t be, it’s fine. How much time do you have?”

“I don’t know, ten or fifteen minutes?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fucking hell. Okay, let’s do this. Strip.”

I took off my t-shirt and leggings while she tore through my underwear drawer, grumbling things like practical cotton and doesn’t have anything decent. She chose a strapless bra and black panties. I slipped into them while she started holding up dresses.

“No,” she said, tossing one aside. “No. Also no. No.” She threw another down and picked up a long red gown. It shimmered in the light. “Oh, this one. This might be it.”

“Red? I don’t know.”

“Are you kidding me? You can rock this. Put it on.”

She helped me into the dress and zipped it up the back. I stood in front of my full-length mirror and cringed. It was strapless and so form-fitting I felt naked. The bottom of the skirt widened just enough for a hint of a mermaid silhouette, and the slit up the leg was the only way I’d be able to walk in this thing.

I smoothed it down, running my hands from my waist to my hips.

“Don’t utter a single word.” She sounded a little breathless. “I’m never wearing it again because this is magnificent on you. But the panties have to go.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll have to go commando. You don’t want a line.”

“But—”

“Nope, no time.” She hiked the dress up and yanked my panties down before I could get out another word.

I fixed the dress, smoothing it down over my backside, but I felt even more naked than before. She threw a towel around my shoulders, pushed me onto the edge of the bed, and attacked my face with makeup.

Ten minutes later, I stood staring at a stranger in the mirror. The dress was… well, it was incredible. The red was deep and rich, and the fabric had something that sparkled. Nothing bold, like sequins. It was subtle, shimmering whenever I moved. She’d done my makeup flawlessly, especially for how fast she’d worked. It looked like me, just formal me. Soft eyes and bright red lips to match the dress. My hair was up—she’d complained that she needed more time to do it properly—but with the strapless dress, it worked.

“A manicure would have made the whole thing really pop, but your nails look decent at least,” she said. “Do you have shoes?”

My phone buzzed with a text from Mr. Calloway’s driver, saying he was outside. “Yeah, I think so. Can I wear black? I don’t have red ones that match.”

“Black is fine.”

I dug out a pair of black heels and stepped into them.

“Those are adorable,” Nora said.

I took a deep breath and glanced in the mirror one last time. “Okay, I have to go. Do you think I’ll fit in with everyone there?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “You’re not going to fit in. You’re going to blow everyone away. You’re a knockout.”

A rush of nerves made my stomach feel queasy. “This is crazy.”

She tucked my phone and the red lipstick into a little black clutch and handed it to me. “Knock ’em dead, tiger.”

“You’re the best.” I gave her a quick hug before rushing for the front door. “Love you!”

“Love you, too,” she called as I hurried out to meet the driver.

Ten minutes later, the car pulled up to the curb in front of the Four Seasons Hotel. I sent Mr. Calloway a text to say I was here. Before I could open the door myself, his driver had done it for me. I took a deep breath, eased my leg out—this dress was difficult to maneuver in—and stood.

Mr. Calloway was already waiting outside, dressed in the black tux I’d made sure had been cleaned and pressed for him. He looked up from his phone, and for the first time in the three years I’d worked for him, he looked right at me.

His eyes were blue, contrasting with his dark features. His hair was neatly slicked back, as usual, and his stubble trimmed to perfection. It ought to be. I made all his grooming appointments, timing them precisely so he always looked perfect.

He stared at me, but I hardly blamed him. I’d never seen me looking like this, so he certainly hadn’t. I decided that instead of letting the weight of intimidation crush me, I’d do what I always did when it came to Shepherd Calloway: figure out what he needed and get it done.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked across the sidewalk toward him.

“Well?”

He blinked at me, his mouth slightly open. “What?”

“What am I doing here? You made it sound like an emergency. Is the dress okay? I borrowed it from a friend.”

His eyes swept up and down, and if I’d thought I felt naked when I first tried on the dress, that feeling had nothing on this moment. My cheeks warmed and I was positive he could tell I wasn’t wearing panties. Oh god, this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

Actually, that wasn’t true at all. After some of the horrible dates I’d had, earning the prize for worst thing ever would take something much more extreme than going commando in front of my boss. That was actually comforting. Silver lining.

“The dress?” he asked.

What the hell was wrong with him? I’d never seen him act like this before.

“Yes, the dress. Mr. Calloway, are you drunk?”

“What? No.” His brow furrowed, and he seemed to come back to himself. He straightened his cuffs. “The dress is fine. And it’s Shepherd tonight.”

He took me gently by the elbow and led me inside. We crossed the opulent lobby side-by-side, passing people in tuxes and evening gowns.

“Okay, Shepherd,” I said, trying on the name. I’d never called him that before. “What am I doing here?”

He took me through a set of large double doors into the ballroom. “You’re my girlfriend tonight.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

His jaw hitched. Under different circumstances, that would have made me nervous. I knew that look all too well. No one questioned Shepherd Calloway. But tonight, I wasn’t having it. Not when he’d called me on a Friday night, demanded I meet him at an event with no notice, and told me to dress sexy. He owed me an explanation.

I crossed my arms and looked him in the eye.

His nostrils flared and he pulled me to the side. “Look, I realize this is out of the ordinary. I don’t have time to explain everything right now. I’m going to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Am I also your assistant? Or am I supposed to pretend to be someone else?”

Something in his expression changed—he softened, looking me in the eyes as we spoke. “No, you’re you. My assistant.”

“So you’re pretending to date your assistant?” This didn’t make one bit of sense.

“Can you go along with this or not?”

A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne flutes. I plucked one as he passed and downed it in a few swallows.

“Jesus,” Shepherd said.

I put the empty glass on a small table. “Okay, I’ll do this. But you owe me.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Like, you owe me big.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know yet.” My sister’s request ran through my head, but here was no way I was bringing that up right now. “But I’ll let you know.”

“Deal.” He offered his hand.

I placed my hand in his and he held it, his grip firm. I’d never made this much eye contact with him, but the quick infusion of champagne was helping.

He let go of my hand and placed his on the small of my back. I swallowed hard, thinking about my lack of a panty line. Trying not to think about how nice Shepherd looked in that tux.

But that was hard. He looked really, really good. It wasn’t like I’d never realized how attractive my boss was. Obviously, I knew. No woman could look at Shepherd Calloway and not be a little awed at that gorgeous specimen of a man. I wasn’t immune to that. But over the years I’d spent working for him, I’d tuned it out. Dwelling on how stupidly attractive he was would only distract me from doing my job, and developing a crush on my boss was a terrible idea. Even if office dating wasn’t bad news in and of itself, I knew his type, and it certainly wasn’t me.

So I ignored the way he steered me through the crowd. The warmth of his hand on my back. The way he walked with such confidence. It wasn’t swagger. Shepherd Calloway didn’t need swagger. He exuded masculinity and power. His piercing eyes, dark brow, perfect hair. His posture. His voice. It all said everything you needed to know about him. He was in charge, and he knew it.

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

He paused to talk to someone, so I grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. I didn’t inhale this one, just held it between my fingertips and took a few sips. I noticed I was leaving red lipstick marks and wondered how soon I’d need to reapply.

The man nodded to Shepherd and moved on.

I leaned closer to him. “How’s my lipstick?”

“What?”

“Does my lipstick need fixing? I got some on the glass.”

His eyes went to my mouth and he licked his lips while I tried not to fidget. “Your lipstick looks fine.”

I pressed my lips, rubbing them together.

“But how much are you drinking?” he asked.

“Are you serious? This is two. And if you think you can make me pose as your girlfriend, in this dress, without a few drinks you’re crazy.”

“Okay. I just wouldn’t have guessed that you drink.”

I laughed. “Then there are probably a lot of things you wouldn’t have guessed about me.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, like he’d never seen me before and wasn’t sure who I was. Then something else caught his eye and his expression changed—he was back to the emotionless Mr. Calloway I was used to.

An older man in a black tux approached. He looked vaguely familiar, although I couldn’t place him. There was a woman in a gold dress hanging on his arm and when she turned, I almost spit out my drink.

It was Svetlana.

The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked a lot like—

“Son,” he said to Shepherd. “It looks like your date arrived. Do I get the pleasure of an introduction?”

Oh, holy shit. This was his dad? What was Svetlana doing with Shepherd’s father? And why was she staring at me like that? If she’d had claws, she’d have been using them on my face right about now.

“Dad, this is Everly Dalton,” Shepherd said. “Everly, my father, Richard Calloway.”

I swallowed, hoping I wasn’t going to choke on the bubbly I’d almost spit all over him. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Calloway.”

“Please, call me Richard. And this is my lovely date, Svetlana,” he said. “I’m thrilled to meet you. It’s about time Shep was serious enough about a girl to introduce her to his father.”

Shep? And Svetlana was his dad’s date? Suddenly everything became clear; I realized exactly why he’d demanded I come. I sincerely hoped his dad wasn’t aware that his son had recently been dating the harpy currently perched on his arm. Because that was just creepy.

Regardless, my boss needed me to put on a little show, and I had a feeling it was more for Svetlana than for his dad. The hostility in her eyes was fierce. If looks could kill, I’d have been dead on the floor already.

This was going to be fun.

“Richard, I’m so happy to meet you, too,” I said. “I’ve been telling Shep he needs to introduce me already. After all, has he been hiding me from you, or the other way around?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Richard said with a laugh. “Although I can see why he kept you a secret. I’d want to keep a beautiful woman like you all to myself as well.”

I smiled and scrunched my shoulders a little. “You are the sweetest. I can see where Shep gets it.” I gave Shepherd an obvious wink.

“So, tell me, how did you meet my son?” Richard asked.

“We work together,” I said, and Richard’s eyes widened slightly. That surprised him. “I know, it’s usually a terrible idea to date a coworker. But sometimes these things are beyond our control. You work closely with someone for a long time, and feelings start developing before you even realize it’s happening. Then one day it all comes out. Once that happens, there’s no going back.”

“I like her,” Richard said to Shepherd. “A lot. Keep this one.”

Svetlana was silent, still trying to murder me with her dagger-eyes.

I ran my hand down Shepherd’s arm and clasped his hand, twining our fingers together. “Don’t worry. He won’t be able to get rid of me so easily.”

Shepherd cleared his throat and for a second, I thought maybe I’d gone too far with the hand-holding. But he squeezed my hand and turned to look me in the eyes. “But why would I want to?”

My lips parted. He held my gaze, his blue eyes freezing me in place. “Why, indeed?”

Richard smiled. “I think they need me on stage in a minute or two. Everly, so happy to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Richard hadn’t seemed to notice Svetlana’s silence. I was surprised she wasn’t digging her fingernails into his arm. But he walked away with her as if nothing was amiss. As if he’d just had a pleasant interaction with his son and his girlfriend, nothing more.

Shepherd let out a breath and released my hand.

“Well, that was interesting,” I said. “Any more family members lurking? Should I be prepared to meet your grandma too?”

He shot me a glare. “No. Just him.”

“He was with—”

“I know,” he snapped. “Believe me, I know.”

He put his hand on my back again and led me to the bar. He ordered a Manhattan and glanced at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Same for me,” I said.

“And she drinks whiskey? Interesting.”

“It’s a classic.”

We waited a few minutes while the bartender mixed our drinks. Shepherd handed the first one to me, then took a long swallow of his. We wandered away from the bar to a tall table near the edge of the room.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” I asked. “What is she doing with your dad?”

Shepherd took another drink and cleared his throat. “My dad doesn’t know.”

“I kind of guessed that. She’s obviously doing it on purpose, though, right?”

“Clearly.”

“Do you know how they met?” It was so odd to be having such an in-depth conversation with him. I was having a hard time not zoning out, watching his lips move. They were very nice lips.

Focus, Everly.

“My dad owns the resort I sent her to. Apparently he decided to take an impromptu trip to figure some things out, whatever that means. He met her there.”

“Why on earth didn’t you pull him aside and tell him?”

He shook his head. “Not here. Not in public. My dad is… sensitive.”

I laughed, and Shepherd shot me a glare. “Sensitive? Really?”

“Yes, sensitive. This is going to be hard for him to take. He’s going to feel very violated and he’ll need time to process it. In private. Plus, he’s getting an award tonight and I didn’t want to ruin that for him.”

“I’m sorry, but are you sure he’s your real dad?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect to discover you have a father who’s too sensitive to replace out he’s dating his son’s ex-hussy-gold-digger.”

Shepherd opened his mouth, but closed it again. Then he did something I’d never seen before. He smiled. Shepherd Calloway actually smiled.

Oh. My. God. Did that look good on him. He had dimples in those cheeks. For a second, I felt like I’d do just about anything to get him to smile again.

“Ex-hussy-gold-digger?”

I glanced down at my drink. Had that champagne earlier gotten to me faster than I’d thought? “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, what do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, I just never liked her. It was so obvious she didn’t care about you, she just wanted your money.”

“And that bothered you?”

“Well, yeah. I know we’re not… I mean, we aren’t really… we’re not friends or anything. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I didn’t like the way she treated you. You deserve better.”

He eyed me for a moment, then looked away and took another sip. I was talking too freely, and I knew I was going to regret it later. Maybe it was the dress, or sharing a drink with him in a situation that made us look like peers rather than boss and employee. But I needed to be very careful, or the floodgates would open, and I’d replace myself saying a lot of things I shouldn’t.

Like how fucking delicious he looked in that tux.

I held up my drink, glaring at it like it had betrayed me. Seriously, was I drunk? I could not think of him as delicious, tux or no.

Get it together, Everly.

While we finished our drinks, the emcee took the mic and gave a lengthy introduction. He talked about Richard, and the impact of his generosity on the community. Richard walked up on stage, beaming. I could tell his smile came naturally; unlike his son, he seemed to do it often. He gave a heartfelt thank you speech and received a standing ovation.

“Wow,” I said, when the noise had died down and people had gone back to mingling. “Your dad seems like a good man. Why have I never met him before?”

“We’re both busy,” Shepherd said.

We left our empty glasses on the table and Shepherd started making the rounds, talking to people. He kept up the pretense that I was his date, guiding me around the room with his hand on my lower back, or lightly gripping my elbow. He even ran his hand up and down my arm a few times, a soft touch that made my heart race and my skin tingle. I looked around, expecting to see Svetlana watching us, but I didn’t see her, or Shepherd’s father, again.

I went along with it, staying by his side. Leaning into him when he seemed to expect it. Smiling when he introduced me to people. He offered to get me another drink, but I declined. After the champagne and the Manhattan, I was in danger of bypassing a little tipsy and heading straight for telling inappropriate stories and asking strangers for hugs.

Not that I’d ever done that before.

Okay, yes I had.

Around the time my feet started to hurt, Shepherd said he’d take me home. He’d driven himself. Although he had a driver available all the time, he usually drove his own car. We went out to the parking garage, his hand still on my back. He held the passenger’s side door of his Mercedes for me, and I got in.

Another first. I’d never been in his car. Scheduled it for detailing, yes. Been a passenger, no.

He was quiet on the drive to my building. I tried not to dwell on what it had felt like to have his hand on my back. Or sliding up and down my bare arm. Or twining his fingers together with mine. It had been awfully nice.

But I needed to get that out of my head right now. I was just a bit too relaxed from the drinks. I’d gone a little outside my normal assistant role, but that was all.

There was a spot on the street a block from my apartment building, so he parked. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

It was the first time he’d spoken since we’d left the hotel. I was about to say he didn’t need to do that, but he got out and came around to open the door for me. I appreciated the hand he offered to help me out of the car. This dress was tricky.

We stopped in front of my building and I gripped my clutch tighter than necessary, feeling suddenly awkward. What were we supposed to do now? We weren’t pretending anything, here. But if I said goodnight to him like I did at the end of a work day, and received no response, it was going to hurt my feelings. I didn’t want the night to end like that.

“Well, I hope your dad is okay,” I said. “I don’t envy you the task of breaking the news to him.”

“No, it’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Yeah. I guess… I’ll see you Monday.”

“Right,” he said. “Monday.”

I took a deep breath. “Goodnight, Mr. Calloway.”

He met my eyes again. “Goodnight.”

That made me smile. He’d said goodnight in return. It was all I needed.

I pulled out my key and went to the door. He turned and started back toward his car.

“Everly,” he said.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

My breath caught in my throat and I bit my lip, feeling a poignant mix of giddiness and confusion. It was the first time he’d ever thanked me for anything.

I watched him go, wondering if things would be weird between us on Monday morning. But I had a feeling they wouldn’t. He’d go back to being Mr. Calloway, and this would just be a crazy story I’d tell my besties in the circle of trust.