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CHAPTER ONE

Lauren

“AND I WANT YOU, Lauren, to cover the story”

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, what?” I paused roan that wanted to pop fro this , but what little I’d heard wasn’t exactly flipping my interest switch

“‘Hottest Bachelor in Town’ I want you to write it,” Patrice answered, tapping her ainst the slick tabletop “Pay attention, please”

I didn’t say the actual word, but my expression clearly said blech, and Patrice Winnehaazine, wasn’t known for her willingness to hear objections “Proble her tone

The last thing I wanted to write was soible and, more important, rich bachelors, but I needed h my teeth By now it should’ve becouts to pretend to care about stories that held no bearing on actual life

Like the world needed another spread on coer I worked for Luxe, the more I was certain I would be required to turn in nments like this

Who knew the going rate for a piece of your soul is the bargain-basement price of rent on a shitty apartht our newest and youngest staffer nearly wetting herself to land this gig, and I readily threw her a bone

“Actually, I really think Daphne would kill a story like that,” I suggested, casting a helpful look down the boardroo redhead Daphne was practically nodding her head off in eager agreeot that young voice that I think would really sell the piece far better than me”

Also, because the idea of pandering to an overprivileged prick is about as appealing as ja a pen inranted, barely—but still, they were paid

“Yes, and she’s also gullible,” Patrice replied without apology, continuing with a briefly held s in love with the man before the intervieas finished That’s a headache I don’t need No, you’ll do the interview End of story” Patrice added with a warning glower, “And wear so Luxe”

I ignored Patrice’s not-so-subtle dig Fashion wasn’t my God, and I didn’t worship at the altar of haute couture I’d hat I pleased “Fit before fashion” was my mantra, and I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for the woh heels who, by the end of the day, were rubbing the agony fros

Nope, I sailed right past the their cab because I could run faster

I caught Daphne’s crestfallen expression Poor girl, I could only iazine like Luxe were nothing like the reality

I re that idealistic newbie

Noas the jaded staffer who ran on a steady diet of cynicis of “WTF?” thrown in for flavor

Patrice, satisfied that her as law,one of the sexiest bachelors yet froine such a thing any this hottie on the cover is going to snag eyeballs, but I need someone experienced to handle the copy”

Irritated and bored but having at least the sense to put on a good face, I forced a sina hound?”

“Wait for it” Patrice paused for dra, “Nico Donato of Donato Inc His fa with a humble yet wildly successful winery in Tuscany Isn’t that drea else scream romance more than the Italian countryside?”

I wouldn’t knoanted to quip It’d been a long ti ronant—six years ago

It was safe to say the most romance I’d had inin the closet with ic Wand

Was it TMI if I adh three of those hardy vibrators? I rubbed at the phantom scorch ht fire in my hand

So, yeah, ronize it if it bit me in the ass, but that was okay because men were a complication I didn’t need in s were, and I didn’t need wine and roses from some man to feel complete

Did I hts? Yeah, but then, I could always get a dog or a cat and achieve the sa

“Wow, I’ve seen pictures of Nico Donato, and

he’s definitely a hottie,” Daphne gushed, her eyes alight with envy “I can’t iine a woman alive ould turn him down if he asked”

I tried not to rollood staffer and agreed with Patrice because I needed

Daphne sighed, and I could practically see the cartoon hearts and rainbows floating around her head Good grief, Patrice was probably right Sending someone like Daphne to interview this Italian stallion would be like sending a lae of her life when her bra and panties matched

I was sporting underith a hole in it, and my bra was three years old

Any seduction attehter Mine and his

Don’t get ly and I do probably ( bra and panty set, but let’s face it, fancy panties are unco

singlemom

alloestomykid

e

Patrice was talking again “I don’t kno this le, but after this issue coeuarantee it”

“Maybe he’s an asshole?” I suggested, and the table erupted with nervous laughter, except Patrice, who frowned I shrugged, just pointing out what everyone else was thinking but was too afraid to voice “I , rich but h money in the world to compensate for a shitty attitude”

“I’,” Patrice said pointedly “And it’ll be your job to make sure that comes across”

“And what if, just clarifying, he isn’t a lovely hu?”

Patrice tapped her Montblanc pen on the polished table surface, the chipped ice in her blue eyes growing colder “I’m sure he is,” she finally answered “And you’ll do a fine job I look forward to reading your copy”

More anxious laughter floated around the conference table Why was I poking the bear in the designer suit? I don’t know Maybe I was PMSing Maybe I was tired of writing stupid, fluff articles that did nothing but perpetuate the stereotype that all wo cocks

Or I was PMSing

Honestly, it could go either way

It was now or never if I wanted to throw so of my knee beneath the table and pushed forith azine