His Fake fiancé

Chapter 1

Olivia P.O.V

"Miss Miller I wanted those papers on my desk yesterday!"

Mr Black storms into his office slamming the door behind him. The hinges rattle almost as loud as his evident fury.

"Asshole." I mutter under my breath while grabbing the papers he'd only asked me to get him five minutes ago.

Realistic standards for hard working employees who practically live at their job? Yeah, non existent. Unfortunately inhumane speed isn't one of my specialties so I'm deeply sorry sir that I was busy getting your dry cleaning, dry cleaned again! As it wasn't up to your standards. The woman on the phone thought I was some immature teenager with nothing better to do than play practical jokes on minimum wage workers. Which led me to spending those five precious minutes trying to communicate to her that this wasn't a joke and that my boss is just a dick!

After mentally cursing Mr Blacks entire existence while imagining his slow painful death with meticulous detail, I grabbed his precious papers and hurried to his office. As per usual a double knock was administered allowing my ridged form to step back until my dear boss told me I could come in.

Two minutes pass until his unfortunately husky voice beckoned me inside.

Mr Black sat at his desk staring intently at his computer screen. "Sir? I have the papers you wanted." He didn't look up just gestured for me to place them on his overly organised desk with a simple flick of his Cartier adjourned wrist.

I take a step back, waiting to be dismissed. "Miss Miller, why can't I access my emails?" It sounded less like a question and more like an accusation.

"They've updated the system sir, if you reload the page and click the grey square up in the right corner, you'll find everything you need."

I waited while he tapped away at his screen. "It's not working Miss Miller." I mentally yell at myself for not sending IT up here instead of trying to be a good assistant and solve his problem myself.

I rounded his desk. He looked at me cautiously like at any moment I'm going to whip a revolver from in between my breasts and make him give me the money.

Ignoring my dear sirs gaze, I lean down and do just as I'd told him to do three minutes ago. "There." I stand back "your emails."

He doesn't so much as say "thank you." Just a curt nod and a "get me a cup of coffee. Make sure it's not that Starbucks shit. I swear to god they burn it on purpose... those motherfuckers"

"Of course sir." I'd gotten him Starbucks once. He didn't even ask for it, I'd offered it as a 'let's keep the peace' gesture on my part. He'd taken one sip and thrown it in the trash after accusing me of trying to poison him.

I wish I had.

I exited his office and sat back down at my desk and dialled my private driver Stanley. A perk of the job I've definitely earned after the constant midnight runs to get Mr Black a singular file of which he can easily look at on his computer, believe me I've let him know that multiple times but he insists on having the printed version.

I beg Stanley to drive across the city of New York to get a cup of coffee from Mr Blacks favourite coffee shop, Bluestone Lane. I also tell him to pay for  everyone's orders, taking it one step further than the whole paying for the person behind me YouTube trend. "Are you sure that's wise Miss?" Stanley questions with a hint of worry.

My so called boss puts me through hell everyday and night of my life so of course I'm going to abuse his credit card "yes Stanley, don't worry he's so rich I doubt he'll notice but if he does? You'll have nothing to do with it."

He chuckles finally giving in "you two are a match made in hell." I shrug,  not that he can see me "thank you Stanley." I use a sickly sweet voice which causes him to chuckle again.

My boss may be hot but he is the boss from hell. If I could go back to my younger self when I was thinking about applying here, I'd hold a gun to her head and make her swear on her life that she wouldn't apply. This is proof that personality is more important than looks. I would never in my life go on one date with that man, sure he looks like one of those Calvin Klein models but when you know the man? Yeah... No! I'd rather have someone pull my teeth out one by one.