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drawn up. How was this my problem? “Um, I don’t know.”
    “Our boss gets married on a whim and you don’t know if he called to have you draw up a marital agreement?”
    “No, he didn’t call me,” I said through gritted teeth.
    Everyone looked up at the sound of a throat clearing as Nolan Banks entered the conference room, all arrogant bravado and cheeky self-confidence. His Armani suit enveloped his muscular frame like a second skin. A wave of heat washed over me. He was just as handsome in person as in pictures. Dark wavy hair just a tad too long for an executive, brown eyes that held a mischievous twinkle, dimples that popped when he smiled, and biceps. Biceps that strained against the expensive Italian wool. Yep, he was definitely swoon worthy and I could see why he made women forget their own names.
    “Well, good evening. I wasn’t expecting to see everyone still at work. My flight just got in an hour ago.”
    I expected the supermodel to pop in behind him, run around the room showing off her huge canary diamond as she gushed about how their Tuscan elopement had been so romantic. But nope, it was just Nolan Banks looking confused as to why his staff was still at the office at ten o’clock on a Thursday evening.
    Jasmine pointed to the offending newspaper. “You got married?” It was more of an accusation than a question. Like, how dare he not get permission from the legal director before he tied the knot?
    Nolan glanced at the paper and let out a guffaw. “Hell, no! How many times have I told you not to believe everything you read?” He looked around the table like it had just hit him why we were all here. “All of you know me better than that,” his slow drawl continued.
    “Well, that’s a relief.” Jasmine gathered up the papers and threw them in the nearby trashcan.
    I paid forty dollars on a cab to rush here only to find out there was no actual emergency? I half-hoped the story was true so I could justify the expense.
    “I just came by to get the papers on the Grant Project. Mr. Raminsky and I finalized the proposal before we left Tuscany.”
    “The prices on vacant land in that area have already tripled in the last year,” Callum pointed out, scooting his chair closer to the table. He looked eager to change the subject from supermodel fiasco to actual business. “The sooner we can close on the property the better.”
    Callum was the head of legal finance so I was surprised to see him here. What did a sham marriage have to do with real estate deals? Unless it affected Nolan’s bottom line, I didn’t see any reason for him to be here.
    “You must be the new girl.” Nolan interrupted Callum, directing his focus on me. He swept his heated gaze over my entire body. Like he actually saw me. As a woman. All of a sudden, I felt flushed and I brought a hand up to cover my heated neck.
    I looked up. “Excuse me?”
    “I’m Nolan Banks.” His outstretched hand took mine. We shook hands; his touch was firm and welcoming, causing tingles to course through my body. I’d never had such an immediate physical reaction to a man. Especially not one I didn’t respect.
    For once in my life, I was rendered speechless. What was my name? Oh, God. I know I used to have one. I’d been given it at birth. Name. Name. “Umm …”
    “Charlene de Monaco. That’s a lovely name.” Nolan stared at my chest, and my hands hovered again, covering the exposed area above my blouse.
    How did he know my name? I looked down. Oh yeah, I was wearing my security badge. Duh. I finally found my voice. “It’s Charlie. Nice to meet you.”
    “You’re an attorney?”
    I nodded.
    “Then we will be working together on the Grant Street project.” His eyes lowered to my lips, then back to my eyes.
    As soon as I clean up your paternity mess.
    “I’m looking forward to it,” I said, managing not to spit out the words.
    “We have a few hurdles to jump first. How about we have lunch to discuss strategy? I’ll bring you