I didn’t expect a flashy, billionaire boss. And I certainly didn’t expect his outrageous fake proposal. But when he ups the ante, I can’t say no.

My new, sexy British boss is a nightmare. Even his name is ridiculous. Foster Chapman. Born with a silver spoon shoved in his mouth, he is insanely successful, beyond sexy, and impossible to please. The type of personality I usually avoid at all costs.

My nightmare began when my uncle had a heart attack and was forced to sell his ad agency, an agency I dragged into the digital age, to Mr. Silver Spoon. And I’m stuck working for the flashy billionaire for a year. He won’t allow remote work or any autonomy. Instead, I’m expected to fit into a soul-sucking corporate environment and placate his every whim.

Throughout our workplace disagreements, Foster keeps his distance. Until I’m forced to hand deliver a new laptop to him at his weekend house, the day before a holiday, and discover Foster Chapman is hiding things. He has a six-year-old daughter visiting from London with a nanny in tow, a housekeeper with the flu and his blue-blood parents about to walk in the door. I almost feel sorry for him.

And then, he offers me a deal. If I pretend to be his fiancée, prepare a Thanksgiving feast and act like I’m madly in love with him, he’ll let me out of my employment contract early. The only problem is playing happy family with him starts to feel real. And a few inappropriate, hot encounters has me wanting more from our bargain. But, the real question is, does he?