Too Good To Refuse

By Sara Hubbard

When Liv's rock star boss, Corey Alexander, asks her to be his plus-one at his sister's wedding, she flat out refuses. As his personal assistant, she spends way too much time with her boss as it is, and he's becoming a large wedge between Liv and her current boyfriend. But Corey isn't used to Liv saying no to him, and he's willing to offer her anything she wants to convince her to come.

Liv can't understand why it matters to him so much, but when he makes her an offer she can't refuse, there's no backing out. Not even when she discovers his reasons for asking. They are more complicated than she could have imagined, and they threaten to turn her whole world upside down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Hubbard
• Release date: Nov 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781988212333

Sara Hubbard

Sara Hubbard is a romantic fiction author. She loves alpha males and the sweet, sassy women who make them believe in change. Sara lives in Nova Scotia, Canada with her two children (four if you count her husband and her needy labradoodle) and works as registered nurse.  Sign up for Sara's mailing list to be notified about new releases and for bonus content: http://eepurl.com/NDwi5 

Book preview

Chapter One

Sometimes I hate my job.

Ralph, my boss’s dog, barrels down Spring Garden Boulevard, pulling me behind him and knocking people out of the way. His dog leash is taut, and so is my arm. I swear he might yank it clear from the socket. He barks loudly at the cat sprinting fifteen feet ahead of us, startling the people we pass. I jog after him, frowning in apology to the poor jogger that just had to jump out of our way. Dry cleaning hangs over my other arm, which I stretch out so the coffee in that hand doesn’t spill all over me or my boss’s clothes. Too late. The hot, dark liquid tips over the rim and burns my hand. My flesh is on fire, and I’m breathing so heavy I might just pass out. I’m so completely out of shape, and I swear Ralph knows it.

All of this in heels!

Ralph! Stop! Stop! I swear I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I’ve never known him to chase anything except a steak. My phone rings and vibrates in my pocket. I yank on Ralph’s leash and force him to stop. The cat he’s chasing disappears down a narrow alleyway. Ralph looks back at me, seemingly annoyed. As if he would have touched the damn thing if he caught it. He’s just trying to show some muscle. Like it’s necessary. He’s a Saint Bernard and probably weighs over two hundred pounds. If the cat had turned around and chased Ralph, Ralph would have rolled over and played dead.

Sit! I shout at the pitiful creature as he looks up at me from underneath the skin sagging over his eyes. He blinks once, his tongue rolling out over the side of his pointed teeth. Then he huffs and lowers his ass to the sidewalk. Little miracles. I shake off the hot coffee. My skin is red and stinging like a mother F’er.

I take a few breaths to slow my breathing, anything to sound less like a porn star before I finally answer my phone. It vibrates in my hand again as I pluck it from my pocket. I frown at Andrew Clover’s name on the display.

Andrew and I have been together for nearly six months and living together for two. Though I care about him, I admit things have not been good lately. Before we moved in together, he had more patience and was understanding. Now, he seems to get mad at me for everything I do. He wants a different version of me, one I’m not sure I’m able to give.

I stick the phone in the crook of my neck and move my coffee into the same hand as Ralph’s leash. Hey, I say as I wipe my dirty hand on the front of my long wool jacket. The brown liquid covers the dry-cleaning covers. I just hope it didn’t make it onto the clothes inside.

A taxicab rolls down the busy street and honks its horn when a bicyclist darts out on the road in front of him. He rolls down his window and shakes his fist, cursing at the man peddling away. I can barely hear Andrew on the other end of the phone.

Where the hell are you, Olivia?

I close my eyes and take a breath. This was definitely coming, and I suppose I deserve it this time.

You were supposed to meet me at Bella at five-thirty! Bella is one of Andrew’s favorite restaurants, and the waiting list for reservations is at least two weeks unless you’re a VIP. Being a personal assistant to Corey Alexander, one of the most famous singer/songwriters in the world, comes with its privileges. And getting reservations to places like this is one of them. Andrew hates my job with a passion, but he certainly seems to forget that fact when it benefits him.

I glance at my watch, sighing at the numbers: five-forty-five. I still have another half-hour, or more realistically, an hour, of work to do. And that involves taking Ralph back to my boss’s penthouse condo. Going there and leaving promptly would take an act of God. Every time I go to Corey’s place, he thinks of a million things I can do for him. Or he distracts me with conversation, and I’ll admit I fall for it every time. To say he’s charming is an understatement, and I know he gets lonely. People would never believe me if I told them that, but I know it’s true. Being as close to him as I am, I know most of his relationships, friends or lovers, are pretty superficial.

I’ll be there soon. I promise.

He clucks his tongue. Don’t bother. I’ll cancel the reservation.

Andrew, please. I’ll be there, I swear. I’ll just be a few minutes late.

This is getting old, Liv, he says, his voice low. "I can’t depend on you anymore. We need to talk about you getting a real job elsewhere."

"This is a real job, and I like working for Corey." Corey is probably the only boss I’ve ever had who makes me feel like I do a good job. He tells me all the time that he wouldn’t survive without me. Call it ego or vanity, but I need to hear things like that. Before Corey, I got fired from or quit every job I ever had. Boredom and a smart mouth, a trait I unfortunately learned from my father, have been serious flaws for me in the job market.

I can’t say I’ve ever been bored working for Corey. He’s perhaps the most colorful person I’ve ever met. And where else would I have had the opportunity to travel the world while staying in luxurious hotels and rented houses? Or get to taste the finest wines or champagne, free of charge? After barely scraping by for most of my life, I enjoy not having to decide which bill to pay each month. And I like being able to help my sister, who isn’t doing as well as I am financially.

We’ll talk about it later, he says, his tone clipped. He sighs into the phone, which makes a crackle sound in my ear. I hold the phone away from my face for a moment and then bring it back in close as a dump truck goes by. I can’t hear a damn thing he says, just the rumble of metal jostling against metal.

Are you still there? he demands.

Yeah, I’m here. Look, I’ve got to drop some things off at Corey’s condo, and then I’m done for the day.

Whatever you say.

Don’t be mad. I’m trying my best.

He huffs at that. Maybe that’s not good enough anymore.

Ouch. He sure isn’t holding back punches tonight.

Ralph looks up at me, his tail swishing across the pavement.

I was going to tell you later, I say, but maybe I’ll tell you now. I got a call this morning, and Corey’s sister is getting married—out of the blue. It’s happening this weekend.

Why would I give a shit about Corey’s sister?

I frown against the phone. Because in a couple of days he’s getting on a plane and won’t be back until Monday.

You’re joking?

Not even a little. I’ve been working for Corey for nearly two years, and since then, I’ve only had a week off about fourteen months ago. Maybe we could go on a mini trip? Maybe go to the mountains and rent a cabin or something. I know you love camping, and we’ve never done that together before. Because I hate camping and bugs and trees and everything that goes along with it. But to salvage my relationship, I’m willing to give it a shot since I know how much he enjoys it.

I can almost hear him smile through the phone when his voice perks up. A cabin? Why get a cabin when we can use a tent?

Yeah, exactly what I was thinking. Said no one ever. So, see you soon?

Yeah.

I end the call and tuck my phone in my pocket. Once I crouch down, I stare into Ralph’s big brown eyes and sigh. His fur is soft in my hands as I run them down his neck and scratch his back. Your dad is killing my relationship, I say in a cooing voice.

Ralph drags his long, thick tongue up the side of my face. I laugh and bat him away before wiping off his slobber with the sleeve of my arm. After a few pets on the head, I stand and start walking. Ralph trots along beside me. My coffee is now cold when I sip it, but I still drink it. Caffeine is better than no caffeine.

It takes Ralph and I about fifteen minutes to reach Corey’s exclusive condo complex. The doorman, Chad, recognizes me and opens the door, a wide smile plastered on his face. Good evening Ms. Montgomery and Mr. Ralph.

Hey, Chad. Ralph refuses to keep walking and waits for a quick pet from Chad—and also a treat. Chad’s pockets are always swollen with them, and Ralph can smell them. Plus, Ralph knows the doorman’s a sucker. Chad tosses the treat at him, and Ralph snatches it easily.

The man in the elevator—I think his name is Simon—sneaks him a treat as well as we climb the twenty-six floors to reach Corey’s penthouse. Why do rich people have to live on the top floor? Why not the first or the second? I swear they think the air is different up there. Like it’s magical or something.

When the elevator stops, Simon turns the key in the lock and the door opens. I unhook Ralph, and he runs into the condo, barking loudly to announce his presence. I head for the kitchen and toss my now empty coffee cup in the garbage before setting the dry cleaning on the granite countertop.

Corey’s apartment is a mess. There are clothes strewn about the room, including a black strapless bra, a slinky black dress, and red heels so thin and long they could be used as weapons. I roll my eyes and groan. Another woman over. Fantastic. Although it’s likely his regular date, Sommer Holden. Ugh. Her name makes me clench my teeth. To the world, she’s an A-List actress with a killer body and smile. To me, she’s a huge pain in my ass. She thinks that because I’m Corey’s assistant, I’m also hers.

A loud female scream echoes through the condo, and I bite my lip to hold back my laughter. Ralph barks again now, his intruder bark. So maybe it’s not Sommer. I mean, he barks at Sommer, but if Ralph walked in on her and Corey doing it, she’d scream at him and kick him out of the bedroom. This scream says frightened. Or maybe mortified. She has to be new. A woman who’s probably a little intimidated by Ralph’s hulking size.

I’m standing behind the kitchen island when I first see bare feet on the open stone staircase in the center of his open-concept condo. Then legs, then her body. Though she wears underwear, she’s missing her bra. She snatches up her clothing before she catches me staring at her with a cheeky grin on my face that I can’t control.

Who the hell are you? she cries as she steps into her dress, not bothering with her bra. She pulls it up quickly, breathing heavily as the dog barrels down the stairs and stands in front of her, still barking. I could ask him to stop. Actually, I should ask him, but I’m kind of enjoying this.

Corey jogs down the stairs. He looks freshly fucked with his dark hair tousled over to one side. It’s longer than he usually wears it, just long enough to curl around his ears. His bare chest glistens, emphasizing the lines of muscles on his stomach. After pulling on a T-shirt he was holding in his hand, he glares at me and then tells Ralph to go and lie down. Of course, Ralph gets one last bark in before he goes to his pillow by the windows on the west-facing wall.

From the stern look on Corey’s face, he may not have finished his business. Or from the bulge of his crotch that extends down to his thigh. He’s even left the top button of his jeans undone, or perhaps he couldn’t stuff himself back inside them. I may be in a relationship, but I have to give this guy credit for what he’s packing between his legs. It’s impressive.

I shrug my shoulders at him and feign indifference with his appearance as the blonde pinup model grabs her shoes. She points at me while she scowls at him. Nice, she says, her voice laced with sarcasm. You told me you don’t have a girlfriend.

He winks at me. It’s an open relationship.

I hitch an eyebrow. I should correct him because I’m a woman, and he’s a douche for the way he’s lying to this girl to get her to quickly exit his life…but he pays my bills. If I were single, and he wasn’t my boss and my friend, I wouldn’t come within ten feet of him. Which is sad because I actually really enjoy being around him. Some of my most memorable moments have been with him.

The girl growls as she stomps to the elevator. As she waits, I swear three minutes become three hours. Corey looks uncomfortable, and while I’m enjoying that she has to wait for her walk of shame, I have to admit this is just another example of why people shouldn’t pay to be on a floor so high up. Now, if he were on the first floor, she could simply walk out the door and head down the hallway to the lobby. Done. No waiting.

Finally, the doors open, and she marches in. As the doors close, she glowers at him while flashing him the finger.

She seems nice, I say.

The smile on his handsome, tanned face is bright and wide. Five more minutes, and we would have been done. And I wouldn’t be rocking a hard-on bigger than my arm.

Really? Five? I read in a tabloid you’re more of a three-minute wonder.

He laughs, but then makes a face and adjusts his package. If you cared about me at all, you’d help me out right now.

I shake my head, my face stern. That’s never going to happen.

Cold shower, it is.

I grab his dry cleaning. After a quick peek inside, I’m happy to see none of the coffee made it onto the clothing. Thank God. That would have given me one more thing to add to my to-do list. I put it inside the closet while I think about how nice he looks in a suit and tie.

Corey runs his hands through his hair as he approaches. He goes into the fridge, removes an orange juice carton, and chugs it from the spout. Hey, it’s his food so I’m not about to tell him what to do with his juice even if I poured myself a glass from that same carton when I came by earlier this morning.

I booked a private plane for the day after tomorrow, I say. I’ll pack your bags tomorrow. Is there anything special you want for the trip?

Nope. I’m not wearing a suit, though, so don’t even think about packing one.

I make a face. Well, there goes the time I spent today on his dry cleaning and the sweet-talking I had to do at the store to convince the owner to rush it. What’re you wearing then?

Nova Scotia semi-formal. He grins at me.

I have no idea what that means.

Plaid collared shirt and jeans.

I roll my eyes. I know you’re joking. But as he waggles his eyebrows and follows with a shake of his head, I realize very quickly he’s not. I suck in my lips and bite down. He’s my boss, and though I offer my opinion more than most assistants would and get away with it, it’s not my place to tell him what to do. Plaid shirt, it is. For a moment, I hope there’s none in his closet, but then I remember he keeps a lot of his old things from home in one of the spare bedrooms.

I found a beautiful cedar cabin for rent just outside of town. It looks fantastic, and it’s on the lake. I didn’t think you’d mind forgoing a hotel for a change, I say. And I booked Angela to sit with Ralph. I would have taken Ralph myself, but Andrew would have pitched a fit, and I guess we have plans now.

Ralph perks up, lifting his head and tipping it to the side.

I was thinking of taking him, Corey says.

Really? I’m not sure how well he’d do on a plane.

Yeah, you’re probably right. Corey affectionally looks over at the dog and heaves a sigh.

There. There it is. The reason why I put up with his bullshit. Because even though his antics with women drive me insane, I love how much he loves Ralph and the way he quietly tries to make the lives of the people he cares about better.

Eight months ago, when his driver, Sonny, very quickly lost his four-year old son to cancer, Corey donated twenty thousand dollars to the Pediatric Cancer Society in Sonny’s name. He never told me or Sonny about it. Never wanted any credit for the thoughtful gesture. I only know because I found the receipt in his desk one day when I was looking for a pen. Even now as I think about the donation, I get a little choked up.

What about my appointments? he asks.

All cancelled. Your interview with Talk Today is rescheduled for next Friday.

Good. The label will be pissed if I don’t keep it.

I think they’ll understand. Your baby sister is getting married.

He scratches at the scruff on his chin. On most men, I’d hate facial hair, but it gives him a sexy edge and perfectly highlights his full lips.

This is ridiculous. I didn’t even know she was with anyone, let alone engaged, he says. And they know my schedule. They get engaged and decide to have a wedding two weeks later? What the fuck is that? If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear they didn’t want me there.

Why would you say that? Of course, she wants you there. She calls you once a week.

No, she doesn’t.

She really does. Well, she calls me to check on you, but that’s the same thing. You always forget your phone.

Hmm. Sounds like she has more of a relationship with you than she does with me.

I frown at him before glancing at the clock. He does this. He gets me talking, and he’ll keep me here all night if I let him. Oh no, you don’t. I can’t stay. I have to go.

He pulls up a stool at the island. Shut up. No, you don’t.

I really do. Andrew and I have plans for dinner.

He rolls his eyes. You still with that piece of shit?

Don’t call him a piece of shit.

I only call him a piece of shit because you don’t like it when I call him a douchebag.

Neither names are okay. I grab my purse, signaling my intent to leave. He won’t keep me here. I will be strong. Distractions won’t work.

Well, I don’t know what to call him then.

Try Andrew.

He says it out loud, Andrew, and then shakes his head. Nah, it doesn’t suit him.

I don’t know why you hate him so much. You barely know him. You met him for like five minutes six months ago when you had a party to celebrate Man of War’s release. Man of War is the title of his fifth album. Two of the songs hit number one the first week they released.

He’s not good enough for you. He says this to me from time to time, and he always sounds sincere. It always affects me because I’m not used to compliments like this. The truth is, I’m damaged in a way he couldn’t understand. If he knew about my past, I’m not sure he’d still be saying that.

My phone starts ringing, and the vibrations work through the leather of my purse. Corey flashes me a grin, both of us keenly aware of who’s calling. Corey thinks Andrew rules me, but he’s wrong.

Answer it, Corey says sweetly.

I will.

Then do it. His smile grows wider, featuring an impressive set of dimples that girls can’t seem to resist.

Frowning, I pull it out of my purse and press talk. My voice is quiet. I’m on my way.

This is ridiculous. It’s six-thirty! I cringe as if I can feel the irritation in his tone.

I’m just about to get on the elevator—

Click.

I hold the phone out and stare at it in disbelief. He hung up on me.

What’s his problem, anyway? Corey asks, leaning forward, his weight on his elbows. "It’s not like we’re sleeping together. Yet."

I ignore the offer. It doesn’t mean anything anyway. I’m not exactly his type: tall, blonde, blue-eyed and willing to sleep with a guy just because he’s famous. I’m just me. Five foot nothing with long hair the color of rust, brown eyes, no hips, and no boobs. You could mistake me for a ten-year old boy from behind.

He just wants more time with me, I say quietly.

What’s he going to do while we’re in Nova Scotia?

After a lengthy pause, I say, Wait, what?

You didn’t tell him yet?

I put my hands on the edge of the granite island and lean in. "I’m not going to Little Cove, Corey. You are."

He scratches one of his tattooed arms with the hand on his opposite arm. Of course, you are. You didn’t think I’d go by myself, did you?

Yeah, I kind of did.

He takes my hand and holds it a moment before I register that we’re holding hands. I pull it free quickly. It feels a little too intimate for me, a little too nice.

Softly, with his penetrating blue eyes intent on mine, he says, I need you.

Those three words. I. Need. You.

Usually, they make me go over and above for Corey. For a girl who came from nothing and always thought she was nothing, those three words mean the world to me. No one, and I mean no one, has ever said them to me before. They make me feel like I matter, but I’m so annoyed right now I can’t even be persuaded by his puppy dog stare.

I haven’t had a day off in over a year, Corey. Please don’t ask me to do this. You don’t need me. You’ll have your family.

He interlaces his hands and stares down at them, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the skin on the other. I stare at them too, now. At the tattoo of a snake whose tail extends all the way to this left knuckle. He doesn’t speak for a moment or two, and though I glance up at the clock on the wall, I know I won’t leave until he doesn’t look quite so sad. No matter how much he frustrates me.

Why don’t you want to go alone? I ask.

You wouldn’t understand.

He’s quiet for a very long time. When it’s clear he’s not going to get personal with me—which is perfectly fine and completely expected—I add, Unless you give me a good reason, I’m not going.

I’ll give you a raise.

I laugh at him now. A raise? Are you kidding me? You’re trying to bribe me?

He leans back in his seat and smiles. What do I pay you, anyhow?

It annoys me that he has to ask. Money is no object for him. Seventy thousand, and I’m worth every penny.

Double it.

You’re insane, I say, hiking my purse up on my shoulder. But I’m rooted to the spot I stand. I like money. Who doesn’t like money? And considering I grew up with