Forbidden Lord

Chapter 1 Miya’s desk was all clean. She’d made it sparkle as she waited for the email. Finally, the day had arrived, the day that she’d waited for and worked toward after being passed over twice already for this job. Today Scot and Scot hired a new director and she should be it. Today was the day Miya’s life changed. No more bad dates with losers. No more being ignored at work. But today couldn’t go any slower. The girls in the cubicles near her were all busy finishing up Christmas orders, but she’d been told she wasn’t needed. She had a meeting. Unlike her mother who gave up on her ambitions when she had her, she’d be a tiger in business. And today she’d prove it. The promotion she’d banked on had to finally happen. But the minutes ticked past slower than the last bit of maple syrup coming out of the jar. It was already two p.m. The day had gone by without a peep from upstairs, so her desk shone. Not one speck of dust left. Finally her email popped as she put the cleaner wipes back in her desk drawer. The meeting was on. She ignored how her heart beat fast and smiled like she already had the corner office. No more promoting the men who used to work under her. In fact, she had no more men in her department so that wasn’t possible. Her hips had a strut to them as she headed toward the elevators. Her nearest cubicle mate, Coral, was on the phone, but she called out to her and gave her a thumbs up. “You looked excited.” And her best friend would be a pivotal player in revitalizing the ad team once she was in charge. They would finally stop listening to foreign managers who didn’t understand the small-town markets of the U.S. The higher-ups must have read her proposal. She ignored how adrenaline rushed through her as she said, “They’re calling me onto the fifteenth floor.” Coral let out a squeal which made Miya smile. “You’ll be the perfect director.” “I’ll be back.” Miya said as she waved to her friend and held her head up as she bounced toward the elevators. Today the elevator music seemed decent—which it never was. Perhaps it was the sound of angels. She’d get a promotion, a raise and respect. Her life needed a change. This was step one. And who knows? Maybe that matchmaker she’d paid would find her a prince. It was past time. A string of horrible short-term romances where she ended up getting ghosted wasn’t good. She checked in the mirror behind her to make sure her black hair was up in a straight, clean ponytail, and not going into her white button-down. The doors opened and she headed into the main conference room where the younger, blond Oakley Scot waited for her. He stood the moment she appeared. For a rich preppy boy, he wasn’t always a horrible boss. She ignored how her heart beat faster and breezed in to shake his hand. He nodded at her and said, “Miya, please have a seat.” Right. Might as well be honest. She fixed her black knee-length skirt to ensure she sat perfectly, with her knees straight and completely professional, as she said, “Hi. I’m super excited for this opportunity. I was happy to hear that both Ryan and Barney admitted their best work for you was at my direction.” “They did say that.” He folded his hands on the table, over a white envelope, and said, “And we’re doing some reorganizing.” A tremble came through her. She scooted closer to the table and said, “I completely understand. I’ve gone through management training and earned my MBA, so I’m ready to help transition.” He pushed the white envelope toward her and said, “Glad to hear you’ll be fine. We offer a one-month severance package for your time.” Her ears perked up and her entire body stilled. Seriously? Her voice grew higher as she asked, “Severance?” He tapped the table like he wanted to leave, now, as he said, “You worked here five years. A month is all you qualify for.” She opened the envelope. Five thousand dollars wasn’t going to last very long. And where in the world was hiring right now? Christmas was in a few days. A tear escaped her eye but she pushed it away as she said, “I thought I was here for the promotion.” His face had a tic in it like he was upset and he turned away when he said, “We’ve hired outside and our new directors shouldn’t have to worry about upsetting a supervisor. Your leaving is the best solution.” And then he stood. Her shoulders slumped as she followed, but she tried to lift her head as she said, “I … I’ll pack my stuff.” He snapped into the hall as he said, “Security will escort you out of the building.” Security? At five feet two, what in the world was she capable of doing? She wasn’t some martial artist type. And then the frat boy who pretended to be important left, while two older security guards, Bob and Jim, showed their faces. She glanced at the clock. Friday at three. Of course. She dragged her feet for a second like she wanted to wake up from this nightmare and headed back to her desk. With the one box a security guard had handed her. One box was all she had to hold the mementos that had taken five years to slowly drift in. As she passed Coral, she registered her white face and pity smile. Miya wished she had the time to ask her out for a drink so she could let out her worries over a glass of wine or a beer with her friend. But instead, she tossed into her copy box she’s taken to carry her things, her mother’s photo, the picture of herself and Coral on their cruise vacation last summer, and her mother’s Christmas card. Last, she grabbed the stapler she’d bought online for herself. The next boss would have to deal with the cheap supplies Scot provided. Then she grabbed her pocketbook, her phone and her anniversary pen. Actually no. She put the pen down. She didn’t need a memento of this agency, ever. One day she’d repay them for this and open her own advertising agency. And once she had schooled her face, she nodded at security and walked with them to the elevator. They took her badge on the bottom floor and pointed her toward the door. This was all real. Her rent was due soon. And what happened next month? She wasn’t rich and her mother had struggled for everything she had, so she couldn’t ask her for money. She needed a job, fast. Maybe hiring that matchmaker to find her a prince to change her life hadn’t been so smart. Miracles weren’t in season for her, clearly. Maybe if she asked for a r****d on the matchmaking she’d make it through till spring if she needed, and not run out of money by February. And she was probably eligible for unemployment, which might give her more time. Hopefully. If not, her Manhattan days were numbered unless she pulled off a miracle. And miracles never happened to her. On the last date she’d had, two weeks ago, they’d ordered a drink and the guy had stolen all her loose cash and the waitress’s previous tip on the bar. No princes and no jobs were in her life, and she needed to get a grip. She stepped into the apartment she shared with three other professionals. They were only roommates, not friends, so she aimed right for her bedroom. And just like her mother had a crystal ball on her life, Miya’s phone rang. “Mom,” she said. “Hi, sweetheart!” She sounded so cheerful. Miya let out a sigh and said, “It’s good to hear your voice.” Her mother had that twang in her sigh that made Miya’s heart melt and think everything would be fine. Even though Miya knew her mother hated how she prioritized work rather than getting married and having children. “Well that’s nice for you to finally admit that,” her mother said. “Now, when are you coming home to Deerrun? The Christmas pageant isn’t the same without you.” Yes, the former high school pageant champions usually milled around baby Jesus like residents at the inn after the star shows up, but she’d skipped out on that duty since she moved to New York. Besides her mother would be there, keeping the family honor. She checked that her bedroom door was closed before replying. But then her laptop beeped. She kept it old school, so a “ding” alerted her when she had mail. And just in time. She said, “Mom, I … I’m getting an email I have to respond to right away.” Her mother’s oven timer went off in the background. She probably had a chicken dinner or a cake she’d been baking or both in the oven. Miya’s mouth watered for the simple homemade vanilla cake as her mother said, “You work too much. It’s time to come home and we’ll both work at finding you the right man.” Home. Right. But she hadn’t made it yet. She refused to ever go back to Deerrun as anything other than a success. She said, “I’ll call you soon.” “Okay honey,” her mother said quickly as she ended the call. Maybe hanging up on her mother wasn’t the best idea, but, honestly, hearing about the hot chocolate competition that her mother never won because Mrs. Finewise always took home the trophy wasn’t going to help her right now. And her mother picking out some local guy who owned his own home in the town she lived in just wasn’t what Miya wanted. The world was wide. It’s why she’d run to New York. But maybe the city wasn’t what she needed now. She sat on her bed, picked up her laptop and saw the email. AvceLoveMatch.com had answered after two weeks. Seriously. It was too late to get a r****d now. If only she hadn’t paid them thousands of dollars to find her a match, she’d still have her savings and wouldn’t be so stressed right now. Her muscles tensed as she stared at her screen. “I shouldn’t have paid for this.” But she had. She’d wanted a handsome prince to marry her. What a joke. Now she was jobless and strapped. For one brief moment she wished she could take back the donation she’d made yesterday for Children’s Cancer Research. But asking a hospital to give back a donation would make her more like a Christmas Stooge. She wiggled her shoulders and opened the email. Not that knowing who her true love was mattered, when what she really needed was a new job. Her eyes widened as she read the email. According to our algorithm, your true love is Frederico Cerkev, the Earl of Martina, in Avce. While he doesn’t have a public social media profile, the following is public knowledge. He turns thirty on New Year Day’s and according to Avce law, he must marry or give up his title before then. He’s currently not married but has a daughter. If you would like us to arrange a meeting, please let us know. She rubbed her eyes and re-read the message. Seriously? A European earl? And a single dad. For a moment she imagined herself in some huge home with balconies and a gorgeous garden, like in a movie. And a man with a child already meant no pressure that she’d have to produce a baby. That was a relief. She had spinal issues, and her doctor said pregnancy could make them worse. Her phone rang and she saw the number of her best friend. “Coral!” Her brown-haired, brown-eyed, always-wishing-she’d-lose-ten-pounds friend didn’t launch into complaints about her looks today. Instead she said, “Are you okay? That was so embarrassing the way they forced you out of there today. What are you going to do?” Miya’s face was hot. Today was about her. But she didn’t need to think—or feel more stress over—her problems right now. She stared out the window toward a couple across the street carrying a small Christmas tree as she said, “I’m … I’m thinking.” “Think fast,” Coral said. “Your lease expires soon, and my room is the size of a closet where I don’t even fit.” If only she hadn’t bought the whole “name my true love” fantasy, she’d have her savings right now. If there was an award for bad ideas, she’d have won that one already. Still, there was an earl. An earl might not be a prince, but then she’d never actually want to rule over anyone else’s life. Her own was causing her enough drama. She hugged her waist as she said, “Well, my mom wants me to go home for Christmas.” “To Deerrun?” Coral asked. “For the hot chocolate competition?” And that’s what Coral remembered about her mother when she’d come to visit New York and talked all about how she’d wanted to win. “Yes. Hot chocolate and apple pie are a big deal there.” Coral said, “You’re a New Yorker now. You’ll get another job.” Maybe. Once the holidays were over. She stared at the young couple as they brought their tree into the apartment building across the street and closed the door. In Deerrun she’d been lonely. Here in Manhattan, she was lonely. Dating had never been fun and easy and flirty like she’d seen on TV shows for years. A string of relationships gone bad flashed in her eyes. That was why she’d been tired of dating American guys. “I also got an email today from AvceLoveMatch.com.” Coral’s “ohh” reminded her why she’d saved her pennies to sign up with AvceLoveMatch, to get this answer. Life wasn’t supposed to be lonely, right? The now out of sight couple had seemed happy, and being happy with a guy beside her would be … nice. For some reason, though, she seemed to push men away. “And?” Coral prompted. Miya put the phone on speaker and quickly googled flights to Avce. If she left tomorrow, the price wasn’t too bad. She didn’t want to overthink this. That never really worked for her anyhow. “And I’m thinking about tracking down my true love,” she said. “He’s some lord over in Europe.” She traced her jawline. Had she said that out loud? She slumped on the bed and let her head hit the pillow. She hadn’t expected any of this. Flying off to Avce was probably stupid. She should be looking for a job—not that anyone was hiring this week. Coral’s voice haunted her when she said, “Hmm. Track down a lord or go to Deerrun. This sounds like an easy choice.” Miya had a sudden inspiration. She opened an online job search engine and typed in advertising. Nothing caught her gaze. But with Christmas next week, the earliest any job might be posted was after New Year’s. She sucked in her breath and shook her head like she was just dreaming. “I should save my money and use it to find another job.” “You’ve spent the five years I’ve known you doing whatever you can to get ahead,” said Coral. “But you’re not happy. If I get a vote, I say you fly off to meet this man. Find out if it’s possible you’ll get a life.” Miya typed in Avce in the job search engine. Maybe leaving New York was her fate, not that she quite knew how to apply for a work visa to Europe. She narrowed the search to Martina, Avce. Usually the title referred to a place or property, right? Her mind buzzed on that fact and she saw a “secretary wanted” advertisement. She’d be overqualified, she thought, as she asked Coral, “Yeah? You’d fly off just before Christmas to a place you’ve never been?” Coral laughed. “I get the chance to be some fancy lady like in a book or movie? Heck yeah. So what’s his name?” “Frederico Cerkev, Earl of Martina, in Avce. They offered to set up an introduction.” She clicked on the job as she spoke. This was for Cerkev. He needed a secretary. She jumped up and paced the floorboards. Maybe a new job was preferable. Her phone was on speaker, and she heard Coral’s voice she paced. She said, “So you’re going to fly to Avce and then go out on this blind date where you’ll both know that the matchmaker set you up?” Her stomach knotted at the image in her mind. She’d knock on the door and he’d slam it in her face the second she said “AvceLoveMatch.” Honestly, she’d do that if the situation was reversed. “That sounds horrible,” she agreed. But if she showed up, knocked on the door and said “job,” then maybe he’d let her into the office. Now, she’d not been a secretary, ever, but she could fake it. In advertising, she’d forced enthusiasm for products countless times. And answering calls and keeping a schedule were pretty tame for a short period. If she applied. If … The idea really hit her hard. It might be fun actually. She swallowed and said, “It’s not that bad. If it works out, it’s kind of sweet.” She stared at her screen again and said, “He’s hiring a secretary.” “So?” Coral asked. “You’re not a secretary.” Fair. Secretary wasn’t exactly what she was thinking of when she’d earned her degree, but a job is a job, and supposedly the boss might be her true love. Maybe she’d get that life she wanted, instead of eating Chinese take-out for dinner after a bad date. She opened up another window to delete her degrees from her resume. Overqualified candidates were usually tossed in the trash bin as they weren’t expected to stay in the organization long. Once her resume sounded more like a secretary, she clicked the Apply Now button. Then she sighed. It went to an online form and emailed a headhunter she knew with her actual resume. Of course. She should have guessed. She said, “So I’m applying for the job now, and then I’ll fly over to check out how the application is progressing.” She started typing into the boxes as Coral asked, “You want to be his secretary?” No. She wasn’t anyone’s secretary, but a job, a change of scene, and starting over were all good things. And she truly was fed up with American men who treated her like a commodity that could be replaced, instead of a cherished woman. Besides, just because a computer said “true love” and claimed accuracy, that didn’t make it real. Nothing was a guarantee in life. She said, “I want a chance to walk away without setting up too much of a fuss. Worst case this way is that he’s already hired someone, and then I head to Deerrun for the Christmas pageant, late but still welcome.” As she finished her applications, her heart raced. The words came out fast as she knew the truth. She jumped out of her chair and found her one suitcase while Coral said, “I don’t have vacation for a few more days, but I can join you in Avce after Christmas if you’re still there. I’ve always wanted to visit and now I have a reason.” She’d have a reason to drink wine near the Mediterranean and figure out exactly what she wanted. Miya sat back on the bed and hit Send on the application. “We’ll keep in touch. I don’t want to make plans only to cancel.” Her friend said, “Well, I hope you get what you want.” Want? Good thought. She wasn’t sure what that was, but she said, “You too, Coral. I’ll call you.” “You’d better,” said Coral. A second later, she heard her front door open. One of her practically invisible roommates—who never talked to her because their living situation was temporary until they found better jobs and left—must have arrived. This was another reason to start over. Her home wasn’t exactly easy to be in. She’d tried to talk to her roommates months ago, but none of the men and women here even remembered her name. So she bought a plane ticket, leaving tonight. It was cheaper than tomorrow’s flight, probably because Christmas travelers were online. It would be nice to get out of here and be warm. And honestly, it would be nice to look this man who was supposedly her perfect match in the eyes. Maybe her years of bad dates were because she was waiting for someone special, but she wasn’t a complete i***t. At best she was booking herself a European vacation, and that wasn’t a bad thing. She’d clear her head and then figure out exactly what she wanted next.