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Her marketing degree was legit. She rocked at drawing new clients into businesses, but her legal name with her hard-earned diploma from the University of Nevada was now junk. All because her ex had convinced her to sign documents for his shady operations in an attempt to trap her by his side. As if she’d stay after she learned how greasy he really was! She wasn’t a doormat, and she wasn’t a criminal. But her real identity said otherwise now—she falsely held three warrants. How do you recover from that?
The guy in Reno she’d paid with the remains of her meager money to forge her new identity had snickered as he’d handed her a fake social security card, passport, and driver’s license. Gigi Goddess Green. Really? Who was she? Carmen Sandiego? At least Carmen had a sexier-sounding name. If a cop ever pulled her over, they’d take one look at Goddess etched boldly across the center of her license and arrest her on the spot. And good luck traveling through an airport—they’d probably call the FBI before she got through TSA. But that’s why the guy had done it, just to screw with her, and there was nothing she could do about it because having any kind of ID was better than none. Welcome to her world.
“The Goddess is on a Saturday, the weekend after next.” Mr. King said, his voice cracking as he ripped his heated dark brown eyes away from her slightly open blouse and fixed them on her curious gaze. He sat up stiffly in his chair. Shoot, she really should have been more careful to button up her top all the way. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “I was thinking we could leave the Friday before,”—he gulped down a breath—“tackle the three-hour drive, and then get settled at the hotel holding the event. Your thoughts?”
Genevieve crossed her arms over her cleavage, and a guilty look flashed across Mr. King’s narrow features. She tried not to eye him suspiciously. “Why exactly is it called The Goddess? What does this event have to do with advertising? Or BC King Enterprises?”
“Um, it’s a finance marketing private event. A friend of mine is putting it on. Pretty private.”
His lips twitched, and Genevieve held her eyes steady to keep from rolling them. She could smell a liar a hundred miles away after the damage her ex had done. But she was also a liar. So what now?
“Wouldn’t it be better if the marketing director or VP attended with you instead of me…like usual? I mean, bringing your advertising manager could be important for some conferences, I get it, but unless it’s related to client campaigns, then…” She shrugged.
Did she really just challenge the CEO regarding a work event? She evaded them all the time, but he’d directly asked her this time. Even if Mr. King was lying about something, if he fired her, she was up a creek because any company that did their homework would discover Gigi Goddess Green didn’t exist prior to three years ago.
Mr. King blew out his cheeks, swiping a hand across the back of his neck. “You might be right. I should probably turn the conference down altogether.”
“Oh, no, don’t do that.” She forced a smile. “If you need me, I’ll attend. Have Chris forward me the details.”
Genevieve swore she’d never travel with Mr. King again after she’d made a risky television appearance by his side on a couples’ reality TV show. She’d made the snap decision when she’d just started working for him and had been terrified that he’d terminate her employment before it even began if she didn’t accept his professional invite. He’d been without a partner and needed to help out his childhood best friend, Hannah. Thankfully, she and Mr. King only had to remain on the show for a short time—an episode or maybe two, and then Hannah no longer needed their help, and they’d left.
Genevieve had purposely never watched the show back because it would have just stressed her out. What if Jed saw her on TV and sent his goons after her? But Jed hated reality TV, so if she was lucky, the chances of him spotting her on the show were slim. On top of that, her hair was now its natural honey-brown color streaked with concealing thick fire-red highlights instead of the pale champagne blonde shade she’d dyed it throughout her entire relationship with Jed. She’d also tossed out all her favorite plum-shaded lipsticks, now opting for brighter shades of red. She looked different enough, right?
“Knock, knock,” Quill said, walking in and plopping his broad frame down on one of the blue leather office chairs facing Mr. King’s large desk.
Quill, Mr. King’s Chief Operating Officer, had joined BC King Enterprises within the first month of its launch. The man was a whiz at programming, logistics, and a ton of other things. Aside from Hannah, Genevieve sensed that Mr. King trusted Quill the most. What would it be like to have friends you could trust? Other than her mom, Genevieve had never trusted a soul.
Quill dumped some water from a stainless-steel bottle onto his hand and dampened his shoulder-length, sandy blond strands, brushing them back from his face. “Ready for the gym, bro? And maybe a run in the hills afterwards?”
Mr. King quirked a grin. “Bro? Really? In the office?”
Quill shoved his water bottle into the side of his gym bag and flipped his palm up with a shrug. “You keep asking all of us to act more casual and stop calling you Mr. King. You can’t have it both ways.”
Quill winked at Genevieve, and she smiled in return before reverting her eyes back to her boss. Come to think of it, Mr. King’s long arms were more defined than when she’d first started working for him. His chest was broader, too. He wasn’t bad on the eyes, she decided, never having considered him or anyone for that matter as more than an acquaintance since she’d fled her toxic ex. But Mr. King was the opposite of toxic—respectful, reserved, and refined. She’d never been into glasses on a guy before, but his were kind of sexy in a cute, intelligent way.
She pulled her lower lip into her mouth with her teeth, nibbling on her cherry-red gloss while she scanned him over from head to toe. Mr. King shifted into a rigidly straight pose as her eyes assessed him. Could he not handle the heat of a woman checking him out in return? What if he was into her? She’d never dated a nice guy before. Smart…sure. Shady…definitely! But nice? Fresh out of college, she’d thought that nice guys were more trouble than the shady ones. Who wanted to commit? Why not just have fun? But she’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong!
And to consider Mr. King simply smart was an understatement. More like a friggin’ genius. Who self-earned over a hundred million dollars before they even turned thirty? Those were the rumors she’d heard anyway. He was a one-in-a-billion catch. Should she lead him on? No, leave him alone! You’re dangerous. He’s too naïve. She’d never even seen Mr. King go on a date.
Genevieve tore her eyes away, forgetting the reason she’d returned to his office in the first place. “Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.”
Three
GENEVIEVE
Genevieve flopped down on her and her mother’s purple-striped upholstery couch and slipped off her two-and-a-half-inch black heels with silver sparkling straps. She loved them because they went with everything, and she didn’t want to waste her income buying multiple unnecessary pairs of heels.
“Gen, is that you?”
“Hi, Momma.”
Her mom emerged from her bedroom, one of two in their standard single-level apartment. “I’m going to put the kettle on.” She trained her warm hazel eyes on Genevieve, swiping a short strand from her mushroom cut behind her ear. “Want some tea?”
“Sure, thanks.” Genevieve watched from the couch, a sense of contentment washing over her as her mom filled her chipped-up yellow kettle with water from the sink. They were safe in this tiny apartment for now. As long as that was the case, Genevieve considered them blessed. Expensive material things and surroundings were a second priority—they could be taken away, but that wasn’t the only reason they limited their possessions and rented a small place. It was easy in, easy out. If anyone, even resembling a clone of Jed or one of his men, sensed their trail, Genevieve would load her mom into their Toyota Camry and blast off.
Genevieve lifted her legs onto the sofa and sat criss-cross applesauce while her mom scooped tea leaves into a strainer. “Did you have a good day?”
“Very good, sweetheart. I like working with Tilda at the flower shop. She’s friendly.” Her mom slid her cylindrical canister of herbal mint into the cupboard amongst her other blends. “I’m glad I had to give up waiting tables. Arranging flowers is peaceful. I may not get the tips I used to, but with that job you’ve got working for Mr. King, it seems we’re fine.”
