Accidentally Engaged to the Boss

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My desperate, fame-hungry agent spiked my drink just to score top-tier resources, dumping me in the presidential suite of the ultimate billionaire heir.

He called me shameless; I called him a lust-driven bastard.

We spent the entire night screaming at each other until sheer exhaustion knocked us out.

The next morning, the heavy doors of the suite crashed open.

Standing in the doorway were our parentsthe heads of two multinational corporate empires.

"Thank God!"

"Our childhood sweethearts finally sealed the deal!"

Chapter 1

I was an actress who only cared about the craft, sickened by the mere thought of social climbing. Dining with directors? Not a chance in hell. Any sleazy casting-couch offers got tossed right back where they came from.

My agent, Cynthia, was constantly pulling her hair out over this, insisting I was wasting a perfectly good face.

If my standards had been even slightly lower, I wouldn't have been stuck on the C-list for years. I was the lowest-ranking client on her roster, and easily the most stubborn. So, she got desperate.

At a wrap party where the investors made a surprise appearance, she went totally out of character and relentlessly pushed drinks on me.

The moment that glass of liquor hit my stomach, a bizarre sense of weightlessness washed over my entire body, and my vision started spinning out of control.

I gripped the edge of the table, desperately trying to push myself up, but my limbs turned to lead and I collapsed.

Through the haze, I could feel Cynthia roughly dragging me out of the room.

She was huffing and puffing, her breath ragged. "Jesus Christ, you're heavy."

I stood at five-foot-eight, and for this latest role as a curvy beauty, I had bulked up to a hundred and forty pounds. It was more than enough to crush her petite frame.

Hmph. That's what she got for spiking my drink. Serves her right.

Beep. The electronic lock clicked open.

After my legs dragged across the carpet for a few more steps, I was shoved face-first into an impossibly soft mattress. Cynthia started peeling off my clothes.

How considerate, I thought numbly. I let her strip me, too paralyzed to move a single muscle, and passed out again.

Until a familiar, thunderous male voice blasted through the room.

"How the hell did you end up in my bed?!"

I snapped my eyes open. My gaze crashed straight into a broad, heavily muscled chest. Drops of water trailed down his defined abs, sliding right into a loosely tied towel at his waist.

"What the hell! You sick flasher!" I yelled.

Harrison paused, his hand still gripping the towel around his damp hair. His predatory gaze swept over me from head to toe before a wicked, cold smirk twisted his lips. "Do me a favor and check how much fabric you're actually wearing before you start calling people names."

I glanced down. Oh, hell. I was practically ready for a lingerie photoshoot.

I snatched the comforter, yanking it up to my chin, and glared at him. "Why the hell are you in my room?!"

"Excuse me?" Harrison looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Sloane, get your facts straight. This is my suite."

I clutched the blanket against the headboard, staring in sheer shock. My brain short-circuited trying to process the fact that Cynthia had literally gift-wrapped me and dumped me in someone else's bed. By the time I snapped out of it, Harrison had already thrown on a shirt. He poured a glass of warm water and held it out to me.

I reached out to take it, but the glass didn't budge. I looked up. His eyes were narrowed in sheer irritation.

"Tell me the truth. How many times have you pulled a stunt like this?" he demanded.

Oh, hell no. My temper flared instantly.

I gripped the glass and jerked it upward, splashing the entire contents right onto his fresh shirt.

"If you don't know how to speak to people, shut your mouth."

Harrison slammed the empty glass down on the nightstand. His eyes blazed like an active volcano about to erupt.

"Getting yourself blackout drunk on purpose, bribing the front desk for a key card, and lying stark naked in my bed." He sneered. "Sloane, it's been years. Did a dog eat your professional boundaries?"

He closed the distance, his massive frame towering over me as he pinned one knee against the edge of the bed.

The sharp, icy scent of his cologne mixed with pure, aggressive testosterone instantly suffocated the air around me.

His thumb clamped down mercilessly on my chin, forcing my face up to meet his furious glare.

I ripped myself away, stood up, and swung my hand hard across his cheek.

Smack. "I just told you my agent did this on her own!"

"Save the bullshit." He caught my wrist mid-air, his grip like a vice. His jaw clenched tight.

"Without your permission, would she ever dare?" He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with venom.

"Selling your body for roles. You've really moved up in the world, haven't you?"

My head was already spinning, but now pure rage made my vision go white.

Fueled by the lingering effects of the drugged liquor, I lunged forward.

I opened my mouth and bit down viciously onto his rock-hard shoulder.

He let out a low grunt, but instead of pulling away, his massive hand grabbed the small of my back. He yanked me flush against him, crushing my body tightly against his burning chest.

Chapter 2

I yanked my aching wrist out of his grip, rubbing the red marks left by his fingers. "And what about you? You seem awfully familiar with this whole casting-couch routine."

"God only knows how many women you've dragged in here!" I threw his own words right back at him.

"It's been years, Harrison, but I see the great billionaire heir is just inches away from catching a felony. Playing with women, driven blindly by lust, and utterly disgusting!"

"You"

Neither of us backed down. We spent the rest of the night ripping into each other, refusing to give an inch.

By the time dawn broke, my exhaustion had hit rock bottom. I just yanked the comforter over my head and crashed out. Harrison aggressively ripped off his tie and dropped heavily onto the nearby sofa. We both slept so deeply that when the electronic lock of the suite buzzed open, neither of us heard a thing.

Click, click

"Tsk, tsk. Look at them. Don't they just look like a perfect married couple?"

"I told you they only act like they hate each other in public. Behind closed doors, they're clearly doing just fine."

"Yeah, yeah, you definitely called it."

So loud.

I groggily cracked my eyes open. Multiple pairs of eyes stared right back at me.

"Dad? Mom?" Harrison's voice broke through the silence, sounding completely thrown off guard.

My head snapped toward the end of the room.

There they werethe four heads of our two multinational corporate empires, beaming down at us like they'd just struck gold.

They all flashed us identical, terrifyingly bright smiles.

"Morning, sweetie."

"Morning, son."

I slowly turned my head to look at Harrison. For the first time in years, we were alignedthe exact same look of raw horror mirrored in his eyes. We were so incredibly screwed. We could have argued until we were blue in the face, but there was zero chance they were going to believe we were innocent.

"Oh, stop being so shy about it," my mom waved her hand dismissively. "We're very open-minded."

"Harrison," his mom chimed in, her tone dropping into a stern warning. "You are not going to be one of those playboys who takes advantage of a girl and dodges responsibility."

Both of our dads exchanged a nod. "Let's figure out a date and make this official."

I slumped back against the pillows in defeat, while Harrison dragged a hand down his face in sheer exasperation.

Harrison was the first to realize the glaring loophole in this entire nightmare. "Wait a minute," he narrowed his eyes. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

My mom held up her phone, tapping the screen excitedly. "We saw it trending on Twitter."

I squinted at the screen. The number one trending hashtag was glaring right at me.

[ ActressSneaksIntoBillionaireHeirSuite ]

Beneath it was a leaked screenshot of the hotel's security footage. Cynthia had been flawlessly photoshopped out of the frame. The timestamps showed us entering the exact same room just ten minutes apart. I went in first, and Harrison followed right after.

No wonder Cynthia was panting like a dying dog last night but still refused to slow down. She was terrified that if she didn't dump me in the room fast enough, she'd miss her window before Harrison got back. The comment section was an absolute bloodbath.

[ "Is that Sloane in the security footage?" ]

[ "Who the hell is Sloane? Never heard of her. What has she even been in?" ]

[ "Just another D-lister trying to sleep her way to the top." ]

[ "She actually has the guts to target Harrison? That guy's bed is a death trap. One wrong move and she'll be blacklisted from the entire industry." ]

[ "Lmao, after what happened to Giselle, she still threw herself at him? This bitch is desperate for fame." ]

Giselle used to be the absolute queen of period dramas. She had this classic, elegant look but could never land a decent role in a modern series. So, she set her sights on a major modern project Harrison was backing. After all, a billionaire investor who also looked like a runway model was a rarity.

Spending a night in his bed probably felt more like a reward than a transaction.

And then she was literally thrown out of his hotel room, half-naked, in the middle of the night. Her entire acting career evaporated in a matter of seconds.

Chapter 3

After that incident, Harrison fired off a single tweet: "Cross my boundaries, and you're dead in this industry."

When that tweet had crossed my feed, I actually scoffed at my screen. A guy with a private life as messy as his, playing the untouchable virgin? Please.

My hangover was currently pounding behind my eyes with a vengeance, and staring at the trending hashtag was only making it worse. I'd been grinding in this industry for four years, clawing my way up purely on talent. I genuinely loved acting. I didn't give a damn about A-list status or red-carpet clout.

If I actually cared about the fame game, one phone call to my dad could have bought me any leading role in the country. My family's corporate empire was second only to Harrison's. Our families had been tied together for generations. Harrison and I were born exactly a month apart.

I was a Scorpio, he was a Sagittarius. I had a lethal tongue; he had a hair-trigger temper. We had been at each other's throats since we were kids, ready to declare war over the slightest provocation.

Me sleeping with him? That was the equivalent of dropping a nuke on a powder kegassured mutual destruction. Not happening. Not in this lifetime.

Besides, we hadn't even been in the same room for almost three years. If it weren't for Cynthia's little stunt, we probably would have comfortably ghosted each other until the end of time.

I caught Harrison's eye and mouthed slowly, What do we do?

He caught the message perfectly. He turned back to the four beaming parents, flashing a tight, heavily manufactured smile. "Why don't you guys head out first? Sloane and I need to talk."

"Ohhhh" They dragged the vowel out in perfect unison.

I dropped my face into my hands, my cheeks burning with humiliation. These four adults had a combined age of over two hundred yearshow could they act like this?

"We get it, we get it. We're leaving."

The second the heavy hotel door clicked shut behind them, Harrison and I both let out an identical, massive exhale. For the first time in my life, I felt a horrific sense of solidarity with him.

I slumped back against the headboard, rubbing my temples. "How do you want to handle this PR nightmare?"

For once, he didn't pick a fight. "Whatever you want to do. I'll play along."

I couldn't resist a jab. "Wow. What an honor. How did a lowly C-list actress like me earn the submission of the almighty billionaire heir?"

He immediately pulled out his phone, tapping the screen. "Right. I'm calling my dad right now. I'll tell him we've hashed it out and the wedding is next week."

"Don't you dare." I clapped my hands together in a mock prayer. "Please, spare my life."

Harrison was exactly the kind of unhinged psycho who would drag us both down just to prove a point.

Chapter 4

They started monitoring my every move, escorting me to and from school, and confiscated my phone without warning.

The aloof guy I had practically begged for attention thought I was playing some twisted game of hard to get when I suddenly went radio silent. He ghosted me permanently.

In high school, Harrison swore to my parents that his "crush" on me wouldn't affect my grades, and he personally guaranteed no other boys would ever get the chance to distract me. Total bastard. I didn't go on a single date before my eighteenth birthday, entirely thanks to his aggressive interference.

During college, he constantly lectured me. "Men are trash, stay away from them." Meanwhile, he was playing the field, rotating through a different girl every weekend.

I couldn't speak for all men. But Harrison? He was walking trash.

Later, I threw myself into the entertainment industry, and he went back to inherit his family's empire. Just like that, we were pushing thirty. At this age, you couldn't just throw out reckless threats anymore. One wrong word, and our parents would have us marching down the aisle.

I rubbed my temples, staring at the floor. "Let's just ignore the press. Let it die down."

"Even bad publicity is still publicity. I'll take the hit."

"Are you really that desperate to cut ties with me?" Harrison asked.

I shot him a sharp look. He was standing with his back to the window, the harsh backlight completely obscuring his expression. What kind of stupid question was that? "No shit."

Harrison tensed. Without another word, he spun on his heel and slammed the heavy suite door shut behind him.

I had actually been about to suggest we unblock each other's numbers. Just in case this PR nightmare escalated and we needed to coordinate. Whatever. Since he stomped off like a child, forget it.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Cynthia. It rang out almost to voicemail before she finally picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Did a goddamn demon possess you last night?" I snapped. It wasn't my fault for snapping at her. An agent's primary job was keeping their talent out of career-ending scandals.

It was purely blind luck that it was me in that room. If it had been any other up-and-coming actress, they would have been forced into early retirement just like Giselle.

"I just the way Harrison was looking at you yesterday, I thought there was some serious chemistry"

"Chemistry my ass!"

"So" She hesitated. "Did you two actually hook up?"

I dug my nails into my palm. I called to rip her a new one, and she had the nerve to fish for gossip. "No comment."

People loved to jump to the most unhinged conclusions. Since Harrison hadn't issued a kill order on my career and I had walked out of his hotel room in one piecewith enough energy to scream at herCynthia was dead set on the idea that we had slept together. Idiot.

The tabloids were hovering like vultures, waiting for the fallout. And waiting. Finally, Harrison dropped a new post on Instagram.

[ Cheeto finally figured out how to use the communication buttons. Truly my cat. ]

In the attached video, a fluffy orange tabby slammed its paw down on a plastic button on the floor. An automated voice blared out.

[ Dad is handsome. ]

I let out a harsh, dry laugh. He was such an arrogant prick.

Chapter 5

Still, I had to admit, he took damn good care of that cat.

Cheeto was a stray I picked up off the street three years ago. He was on death's door when I found him, and it cost me a small fortune in vet bills to pull him back from the brink. I kept him for about six months, but bouncing between filming locations across the country meant I had zero time to take proper care of him.

So, on Harrison's birthday, I showed up at his penthouse with a cat carrier. "Here. Happy birthday." Before he could even open his mouth to object, I dropped the carrier and sprinted for the elevator.

A cat had scratched him pretty badly when he was a kid, leaving him with some lingering trauma. But I was fresh out of options.

My mom was severely allergic to pet dander. If I brought a cat into their house my dad would literally have my head on a pike.

My best friend, Zoey, had a massive golden retriever that would foam at the mouth and chase anything feline.

And trying to put an ordinary orange tabby up for adoption? Good luck. So, Harrison had to take the hit.

Watching Cheeto look so sharp and energetic in that video, a satisfied smirk crossed my face.

The press had been waiting with bated breath for days, only to get an Instagram post that had zero to do with me. Naturally, the media smelled blood in the water. Three days later, I was dragged right back into the trending topics.

[ SloaneHarrison ]

My comment section was an absolute warzone.

[ "What the hell actually happened that night? I need answers." ]

[ "Is this her audition for a real-life romance novel?" ]

[ "I thought Harrison was different from the rest of these rich playboys. Men are literally all trash!" ]

That last comment had the most replies under it.

[ "Takes two to tango!" ]

[ "Where there's smoke, there's fire!" ]

[ "If Sloane wasn't down for it, you think Harrison would force her? Look at his status. He could snap his fingers and have any woman he wants." ]

[ "But if Harrison really rejects everyone like he claims, how did she even get her foot in the door?" ]

My eyes lit up. Exactly! Someone gets it!

Wait. Oh, shit. My thumb slipped.

I hit the like button. Fuck! I scrambled to unlike it immediately.

But the internet is terrifyingly fast. Someone already took a screenshot.

Trending twice in twenty-four hours for sheer stupidity. A new personal best.

The day after that fiasco was the cast's final wrap photoshoot. And Harrison actually showed up on set.

It was glaringly obvious to everyone that he was in a spectacularly foul mood. His face was a thundercloud, and his dark, oppressive gaze kept flicking toward me, intentional or not. Terrified of getting caught in the crossfire of his lethal aura, the entire crew gave me a wide berth.

Great. At this rate, I was going to be cemented at the top of the trending page permanently.

Sure enough. We hadn't even finished the group photos before I trended again.

[ HarrisonVisitsSloaneLookingMurderous ]

The tabloids were really working overtime these days.

Ding. I looked down at my screen. A text from my mom popped up.

[ "Harrison visited you on set? That's wonderful, honey. You two play nice!" ]

What the hell?! Was she completely blind to the "Looking Murderous" part of the headline?

I scanned the set and caught sight of Harrison's broad shoulders disappearing into the men's room. I shoved my phone into my pocket and trailed right behind him. He had his AirPods in, deeply engrossed in a call, oblivious to my presence.

He walked in, tapped his ear to end the call, and casually yanked his belt half open.

Chapter 6