Chapter 1 - She Asked the Most Dangerous Man in Denver to Be Her Boyfriend—And He Had Been Waiting Two Years to Hear Those Words
The most beautiful secretary in my organization walked into my office and asked me, a feared mafia boss, to pretend to be her boyfriend for one night.
She had no idea I had spent two years secretly falling in love with her.
She also had no idea that the men who trembled when I entered a room would have laughed themselves sick if they knew how easily one woman could turn me into a nervous fool.
But when I agreed to her request on one condition, the fearless woman who had never backed down from anyone suddenly turned bright red.
It was 5:42 on a Thursday afternoon when Jenna Hart appeared beside my desk, clutching her phone and looking like she had just witnessed a murder.
"Boss, I need a boyfriend for tonight."
I slowly lowered the documents in my hand.
"Care to repeat that?"
"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for one evening."
My name is Evan Blackwood.
I was thirty-four years old, and I controlled one of the most powerful criminal organizations in Denver.
My legitimate businesses included commercial real estate, transportation companies, private security firms, and several restaurants.
My less legitimate interests had made me wealthy enough to purchase almost anything and dangerous enough that most people avoided saying my name in public.
I had negotiated with men who carried guns beneath their expensive jackets.
I had survived three assassination attempts.
I had watched politicians smile across dinner tables while secretly wondering whether I knew what they had done.
But Jenna Hart?
That twenty-five-year-old woman could walk into my office, tell me my schedule was ridiculous, and steal the last sip of my coffee without asking.
She had been my personal secretary for two years.
Somehow, she had become the only person in my organization who could tell me I was behaving like an idiot and expect to survive the conversation.
"You're asking your mafia boss to play boyfriend?" I asked.
"Technically, I'm asking Evan."
That nearly made me smile.
"What's the occasion?"
"My brother Matt's engagement dinner. His fiancée's family is hosting it downtown."
"And why exactly do you need me?"
"My ex-fiancé will be there."
My expression hardened.
"Name."
"Ryan Mercer."
I had heard that name twice before.
Both times, Jenna had gone unusually quiet.
"My mother still thinks we belong together," she admitted. "She even gave him my apartment address last month."
My jaw tightened.
"She gave a man your address without permission?"
"She's my mother, Evan."
"That doesn't make it acceptable."
Jenna sighed.
"There's another problem. I told her I was seeing someone."
I leaned back in my leather chair.
"How long have we been dating?"
"Three weeks."
"Three weeks?" I raised an eyebrow. "And you haven't even introduced me to your family? I'm offended."
She rolled her eyes.
"Will you help me or not?"
I should have refused.
Men in my position couldn't afford emotional weaknesses.
Especially when that weakness was a woman who worked in the same building where I conducted business that could send me to prison.
But I had spent two years watching Jenna handle dangerous visitors, impossible schedules, and my terrible temper without losing her composure.
I had fallen in love with the way she defended junior employees.
With the way she remembered birthdays.
With the way she kept a spare umbrella in her office because Denver weather changed without warning.
And with the way she looked directly into my eyes when everyone else looked away.
"Fine," I said. "One condition."
She immediately looked suspicious.
"What condition?"
"If I'm pretending to be your boyfriend, I'm not taking responsibility for how convincing I become."
Her cheeks turned pink.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'll hold your hand, keep you close, and make absolutely certain nobody questions whether we're together."
"And kissing?"
I held her gaze.
"Only if you want me to."
For the first time that evening, Jenna smiled.
"Then you'd better earn it, boss."
My heart did something no enemy had ever managed to accomplish.
Then her smile disappeared.
"Evan, I really need you."
I straightened.
"What happened with Ryan?"
She sat nervously across from me.
"We were engaged two years ago. He got a job in Dallas and expected me to abandon my career and follow him."
"And you refused?"
"I asked for six months of long distance. He said marriage meant building one life together."
"What did you tell him?"
"That building one life shouldn't mean destroying mine."
I understood immediately.
"He left you."
"We both ended it eventually. But my parents never accepted that."
Before I could respond, her phone vibrated.
Jenna glanced down, and all the color drained from her face.
"What's wrong?"
She turned the screen toward me.
Her mother's message read:
"Ryan is planning something special tonight. Please don't embarrass us by bringing that imaginary boyfriend."
I felt my expression turn cold.
Then Jenna whispered something that made me reach for my jacket.
"Evan, Ryan told my family he knows who you really are."
I stood slowly.
"Then tonight," I said, "he's going to learn exactly what that means."
Jenna watched me cross the office.
"You're not going to threaten him, are you?"
"Not unless he gives me a reason."
"Evan."
I turned.
She had that expression again.
The one she wore when she was about to correct a mistake in a multimillion-dollar contract.
"I am asking you to be my boyfriend, not to start a war."
"Those two things aren't necessarily mutually exclusive."
"That's not funny."
"I wasn't joking."
She folded her arms.
I sighed.
"Fine. No threats. No intimidation. No men waiting outside with suspicious-looking vehicles."
"Thank you."
"Unless you ask."
"Evan!"
I laughed.
It surprised both of us.
She looked at me as though she had discovered an entirely new species.
"You actually laugh."
"Occasionally."
"Should I call the newspapers?"
"Only if you want them to print our engagement announcement."
Her cheeks turned pink again.
I enjoyed that far more than I should have.
At six fifteen, I sent my driver home and told my security chief, Marcus Reed, that I would be taking my own car.
Marcus stared at me.
"You haven't driven yourself to a social event in eighteen months."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Is this about Miss Hart?"
I gave him a warning look.
He smiled anyway.
"Of course it is."
"Marcus."
"Sir."
"Don't."
He raised both hands.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Twenty minutes later, Jenna appeared in the lobby wearing a dark emerald dress that made me forget how to speak.
Her hair fell over one shoulder.
She wore simple earrings, black heels, and a small silver bracelet.
Nothing extravagant.
Nothing designed to attract attention.
Yet every man in the lobby looked up.
I wanted to fire half of them.
Instead, I walked toward her.
"You look beautiful."
She stopped.
For a moment, the confident secretary disappeared.
"Thank you."
Then she looked at my black suit.
"You look expensive."
"That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all week."
She laughed.
I offered my arm.
She hesitated before taking it.
The contact was light.
Almost accidental.
But it felt more intimate than any encounter I had experienced in years.
We entered the underground garage together.
I opened the passenger door of my car.
Jenna stared.
"Is that a Bentley?"
"Yes."
"Of course it is."
"Would you prefer something less noticeable?"
"I'd prefer a boyfriend who doesn't look like he owns the restaurant we're going to."
"I might."
She stopped halfway into the car.
"Evan."
"I'm kidding."
Mostly.
As I drove toward downtown Denver, she explained her family.
Her father, Richard Hart, owned a modest construction company.
Her mother, Patricia, had spent most of Jenna's childhood trying to turn every family gathering into a social competition.
Her younger brother Matt was twenty-eight and worked as a structural engineer.
His fiancée, Olivia Bennett, came from a wealthy family with interests in commercial development.
Ryan Mercer had known the Bennetts for years.
That explained why he had been invited.
What it did not explain was why he apparently believed tonight would be an appropriate occasion to reclaim a woman who had ended their engagement.
"Tell me something," I said.
"Anything."
"Did Ryan ever hurt you?"
Jenna looked out the window.
"Not physically."
I waited.
"He was controlling," she continued. "At first, it looked like concern. He wanted to know where I was. Who I was with. Whether I'd eaten. Whether I got home safely."
"Then?"
"Then he started deciding which friends were good for me. Which jobs were worth taking. Which clothes looked professional."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"He even told me that ambitious women usually ended up alone."
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Did you believe him?"
"For a while."
I glanced at her.
"And now?"
She looked at me.
"Now I work for the most demanding man in Denver, and somehow he still respects my right to make my own decisions."
I smiled faintly.
"Your boss sounds charming."
"He's impossible."
"Handsome?"
"Occasionally."
"Intelligent?"
"When he listens to his secretary."
I laughed again.
Then her expression softened.
"Thank you for doing this."
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do."
I pulled up outside the restaurant.
The building occupied the ground floor of a restored historic hotel.
Warm light spilled through enormous windows.
Luxury vehicles lined the curb.
A valet hurried toward us.
Before getting out, I turned toward Jenna.
"One more thing."
She groaned.
"Another condition?"
"No."
I took her hand.
"Tonight, if you feel uncomfortable, we leave. I don't care who is speaking, who gets offended, or what your mother thinks."
Her eyes searched mine.
"You'd really walk out of my brother's engagement dinner?"
"If staying means watching someone hurt you, yes."
She swallowed.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
It was brief.
Soft.
Almost innocent.
But it nearly stopped my heart.
"That," she whispered, "was for being a good fake boyfriend."
I looked at her.
"And what does a real boyfriend get?"
She smiled.
"Depends how well he behaves."
Then she opened the door.
I followed her into the restaurant, completely unaware that the evening would uncover a betrayal connected to my own organization.
The private dining room occupied the second floor.
Thirty guests gathered beneath crystal chandeliers.
A long table was decorated with white roses and candles.
At the far end, Matt stood beside Olivia, laughing with her father.
Jenna's mother noticed us first.
Her smile vanished.
"Jenna?"
Every nearby conversation stopped.
Jenna straightened.
"Mom."
Patricia's gaze moved from her daughter to me.
"And who is this?"
I extended my hand.
"Evan Blackwood."
The name changed the room.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
But enough.
A businessman near the windows stopped drinking.
An older man turned away from his conversation.
Olivia's father stared at me with sudden recognition.
Patricia hesitated before accepting my hand.
"Blackwood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Jenna slipped her fingers between mine.
"My boyfriend."
I felt her hand tremble.
I squeezed gently.
Patricia looked stunned.
"But Ryan said—"
"Ryan doesn't speak for me anymore," Jenna interrupted.
A male voice answered from behind us.
"Apparently, neither does good judgment."
I turned.
Ryan Mercer stood beside the entrance, wearing a tailored navy suit and the expression of a man who had never been told no.
He was handsome in a polished, artificial way.
His smile disappeared when he recognized me.
For one brief moment, fear flashed across his face.
Then something colder replaced it.
"Well," he said.
"Isn't this interesting?"
Jenna moved closer to me.
Ryan looked at our joined hands.
Then he smiled.
"Jenna, sweetheart, you really should have warned your family."
I met his eyes.
"About what?"
He stepped forward.
"About the fact that your new boyfriend is Evan Blackwood."
His voice rose deliberately.
"The man half of Denver is afraid to investigate."
The room fell silent.
I could feel Jenna preparing to defend me.
I touched her hand.
Not to stop her.
To remind her she wasn't alone.
Ryan's smile widened.
"Tell me, Mr. Blackwood. Does Jenna know what kind of man she's dating?"
I studied him.
Then I asked a question that made his smile falter.
"Does she know what kind of man she's already rejected?"
May you like
For the first time that evening, Ryan Mercer had nothing to say.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that our trouble was only beginning.
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