Amelia's POV

Sometimes, I had experiences that, in hindsight, made me wonder if I had completely misunderstood the situation. Maybe I hadn't heard the conversation correctly. That was what I kept thinking about the conversation with Albert and Mr. Len. But every time I replayed the conference call in my head, I came to the same conclusion: Albert Torrens had asked me to fake a marriage to him for a business deal. But then I’d think that it simply couldn't be true. He was my boss. He was a serious, focused man with integrity. He couldn't have suggested that we travel to Italy to get married.

For the rest of the day, I argued with myself over what had happened. And by the time I was heading home, I still couldn't be sure if he meant what he said or if I had understood what he meant. The only solution was to tell my sister and see what she thought. Mary was more than just my sister and roommate; she was also my best friend. I trusted her, and I felt she could help me sort out this mess with my boss.

"He said that? That you could get away with a fake marriage if you didn't get a license?" Mary asked as she brushed a strand of her lavender curls away from her face. She sat on one of our mismatched dining chairs, with one foot resting on the seat, sipping tea from a psychedelic coffee mug she had made in seventh grade.

"Yes. Then he said how important the company was to him and that he would give me a bonus." I poured the cooked fettuccine into the colander and dumped it back into the pot.

"I don't know how you could have misunderstood that. Sounds pretty clear to me."

I poured the jarred Alfredo sauce over the noodles and stirred.

"So, I guess I have to decide whether I'm going to do it or not."

"Of course you're going to do it." She stood up, setting her mug on the table and grabbing forks from the drawer to set the table.

"What do you mean, 'of course'?" I looked at her with a frown.

"Did you miss the part where he said he’d give you a bonus? You should ask for enough to pay off your student loans. Maybe even negotiate a raise. You know our rent is going up soon. Stupid landlord."

She was right. A financial bonus could be a huge help for us. I was paid fairly well for being Albert's assistant, but living in San Diego was expensive, and I had some hefty student loans.

"But we're lying," I said, dishing the noodles onto plates and handing one to Mary.

"I don't see it that way. If there's actually a ceremony, it's not a lie. The only fake part is that you two aren't in love, but it's not like it would be hard to pretend to love Albert Torrens."

I sat at the table and stared at her.

"What?" she asked, twirling her fork in her fettuccine.

"Why would it be easy to pretend to love my boss?"

"Because he's hot. And he's rich. And he's nice to you." She spoke as if what she was saying was completely obvious. She wasn't wrong. Like Andi had said before, Albert was handsome and had a lot going for him. But he had one much bigger thing going against him: he was my boss. Besides, he had never given me any indication that he was attracted to me. No sidelong glances. No appreciative looks at my body. No unwanted brushing against me. Well, his hand had been over mine during the call, but it wasn't like he was flirting with me; he was trying to close a business deal. "And you're no bad catch either. You just need to stop dressing like a nineteenth-century schoolteacher and accentuate your assets."

I looked down at the white blouse tucked into my navy-blue skirt.

"Professional?"

Mary rolled her eyes.

"It's fine for work, but you need to let loose a little. Find your style."

I looked at her, dressed in an old denim overall splattered with paint.

"I'm not sure I should be taking fashion advice from Blueberry Natalie." She snorted.

"You know that when I go out, I clean up nice. This is my work clothes, just like the schoolgirl outfit is yours. I'm just lucky enough to be an artist and get to wear what's comfortable."

She was probably right. I was pretty conservative with my clothes. However, that wasn't the point of this conversation.

"So you think I should go along with this deception?"

"Hell yeah. Besides the money, which you need, you get a trip to Italy." She sat back and sighed. "I would love to go to Italy. I’d love to get a good look at David up close. Did you know his hands are really big?"

"Is that code for something?"

"Well, no, because you can see his crotch and it's not huge. Still, everyone I've ever met who has seen it in person says it's breathtaking. Plus, there's so much art to see there."

"Maybe you should go in my place." I took a bite of my noodles.

"Sure. You think I could pull it off? Dutiful assistant to a billionaire?" I chewed my food instead of answering. "Right. I can't. Plus, that guy you're trying to fool probably knows you, so I can't exactly pose as you while pretending to marry your boss."

She was right again. Mr. Len had seen me on the video call.

"I wonder if it's a good time of year to visit Italy," she mused aloud. Then she laughed. "God, even if it rained, a bad day in Italy is probably better than a good day just about anywhere else."

I still wasn't sure what to do, but at least I had Mary's support in whatever I decided.

That night, I lay in bed wondering how I could pull this off if I got past the ethical dilemma. What would it be like to be married to Albert Torrens? There were a lot of things about it that appealed to me; I loved his family and adored his grandmother. He was committed to the family business and worked incredibly hard. When he wasn't lost in the rabbit hole of his work, he could be fun, and he was a very generous boss. But that was the thing. He was my boss. Could I ever see him as a husband?

I tried to push the idea of him being my boss out of my head. I imagined meeting him outside the office, where we were just a man and a woman. Would I find him attractive? Well, yes. He had that Southern California boy look, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, though he didn't have the laid-back surfer vibe usually associated with SoCal men. His suit always hung perfectly from his broad shoulders and lean hips. I had caught him leaving the company gym once and found myself staring at the sculpted muscles of his shoulders and arms. Yes, if I had met him somewhere else, I would have been attracted to him.

I tried to picture what this fake marriage would look like. Italy was a Catholic country, so we’d have separate rooms until the ceremony, wouldn't we? Then again, Mr. Len was French, and they seemed to have a pretty relaxed attitude toward sex. What would it be like to share a room with Albert? Did he sleep in pajamas or naked? A flash of his strong arms popped into my head, which I then extrapolated to envisioning him in all his glory. In my mind, it wasn't just his hands that were big, but other parts too.

I felt my cheeks flush as I realized I was getting turned on just imagining my boss. Laughing at myself, I rolled over in bed to try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I would need to know what I had decided. I hoped the answer would come to me in my sleep.

As I drifted off, a vision of Tuscany filled my head. It was beautiful, and I was walking with Albert through the lush green countryside. Flowers were blooming in bright colors. In the distance, I could see rows and rows of grapevines.

Suddenly, the sun and blue sky vanished, replaced by gray clouds, and it began to rain.

"Does the rain bother you?" he asked me.

I lifted my head, savoring the cool droplets on my face.

"No. A rainy day in Italy is still better than a good day anywhere else."

He laughed, and that made me look at him. His shirt was gone, revealing his smooth chest and perfectly sculpted muscles that would have made Michelangelo weep with their beauty. I reached out, tracing my fingers along his chest.

"When was the last time you got laid?" I asked him. He laughed again.

"I'm more interested in the next time." His arm wrapped around me, pulling me tight against his body. His lips crushed against mine. Delicious sensations rushed through my entire body.

He turned me around and pinned me against a tree trunk. He lifted my dress, pulled off my panties, and sat me on it. My breasts were free, and he was sucking on them, making me moan. Then, his hardness was out.

"Are you going to help me get laid?" he asked, tugging at my nipple with his teeth.

"Yes, God, yes." I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him closer. He filled me completely. The rain poured down his back as I gripped him. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but all the electricity I felt was between our bodies as he pumped inside me, over and over, pushing me higher until I sat on the edge of the sweetest oblivion.

He thrust deep, and I gasped as the spasm took over. My core quivered. My blood rushed like a hot stream of molten lava.

I gasped and bolted upright.

I wasn't in a field in Italy. I was in my bed. In San Diego. I had just had an erotic dream about my boss.

"Oh, shit." I lay back down on the bed. God, I had just had an orgasm while dreaming about my boss. I felt embarrassed, even though there was no one there to witness it. I had never thought of him as an object of desire, and now I wasn't sure how I could look at him and not want to jump his bones. Would he notice?

I snorted in sheer frustration. How could I pretend to be his fiancée now? I guess wanting him would make the relationship look real, but shit, he was my boss. I could only imagine what he would do if he realized I found him sexy. He’d probably laugh. No, he wouldn't laugh. He was too nice for that. But he would reassign me somewhere else in the company. God, I was such an idiot.

I rubbed my face with my hands and then wished for sleep—a dreamless sleep—to return.