Fake Marriage To The Undercover Boss

The doorbell rang at exactly eight in the morning.

Emaline jerked awake on the sofa. She rubbed her gritty eyes, smoothed down her wrinkled shirt, and hurried to the door.

She pulled it open.

A middle-aged man in a pristine white coat stood in the hallway. A younger nurse stood behind him, carrying a heavy silver medical case.

"Ms. Finley?" the man asked. "I am Dr. Miles Ramsey from New York-Presbyterian. I was asked to come evaluate your father."

Emaline's jaw dropped. New York-Presbyterian was one of the top hospitals in the country. They did not do house calls in rundown Brooklyn apartments.

"Please, come in," Emaline said, stepping aside.

Dr. Ramsey walked into the cramped bedroom. He spent forty-five minutes examining Walter, listening to his lungs, and drawing blood. When he finally stepped back into the living room, his face was grim.

"His lungs are failing rapidly," Dr. Ramsey told Emaline in a low voice. "He needs to be admitted immediately for aggressive intravenous therapy. If he stays here, he will not survive the week."

Emaline felt the floor drop out from under her. "How much will the admission cost?"

Dr. Ramsey opened his briefcase and pulled out a clipboard. He handed it to her.

"The initial costs have been covered," Dr. Ramsey said. "He has been enrolled in a specialized clinical trial program. It covers full hospitalization."

Emaline stared at the paperwork. The words 'Fully Funded' were stamped across the top. Her hands began to shake.

She knew there was no clinical trial. This was Cullen.

After Dr. Ramsey and the nurse left to arrange the transport, Emaline pulled out her phone and dialed Cullen's number.

"Who exactly are you?" Emaline demanded the second he answered. "How did you get a doctor from Presbyterian to lie to my face?"

"I told you I have resources," Cullen's voice was smooth, unbothered. "The only thing that matters is whether you are going to accept the help."

Emaline looked through the bedroom door. Walter was sleeping peacefully, the pain lines on his face smoothed out by the medication Dr. Ramsey had given him.

She swallowed her pride. It tasted bitter.

"I need thirty thousand dollars," Emaline said, her voice trembling. "To cover his past debts at the other hospital so they will release his records to Presbyterian."

Silence stretched over the line.

"Done," Cullen said. "But it is a loan. You will sign a promissory note."

Emaline blinked. The demand for an IOU shocked her, but it also grounded her. It made this a transaction. It made it real.

"Fine," Emaline said.

"I am transferring the funds now," Cullen said. "My car is downstairs. Come down. We are going to the hospital."

Emaline pulled the phone away from her ear. A notification popped up on her screen.

Incoming wire transfer: $30,000.00.

Her breath hitched. She walked to the window and looked down at the street.

The dark sedan was parked illegally by the fire hydrant. Cullen was leaning against the rear door, wearing a charcoal gray overcoat. He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto her window. He gave a single nod.

Emaline grabbed her coat. She told Leo to pack a bag for Walter and ran downstairs.

When she pushed through the front doors of the building, Cullen opened the car door for her. He held out his hand.

Emaline hesitated. She looked at his large, clean hand, then placed her fingers in his palm. His grip was warm and firm. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm.

She slid into the leather seat. Cullen got in beside her. The scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne filled the small space.

Emaline pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from her pocket. She handed it to him.

"The IOU," she said. "I signed it."

Cullen took the paper. He did not unfold it. He did not even look at it. He just slid it into the inside pocket of his coat.

"I trust you," Cullen said softly.

The car pulled away from the curb. Emaline stared at his sharp profile.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You could buy a wife. Why me?"

Cullen turned his head. His dark eyes swept over her face, lingering on her bitten lip.

"Because I want to see what a woman with a spine does when she is finally given a sword," Cullen said.

Emaline's heart slammed against her ribs. She looked away, staring out the window, unable to handle the heat in his gaze.