Millionaire Hires Temporary Personal Trainer. Never Thought He’d Fall in Love With Her
The Gala and the Mercer Legacy
Riley frowned.
“Why?”
“You spend hours making me miserable. I figured it’s only fair you see the other side of my life.”
Her first instinct was to say no. She wasn’t here for social events, and mixing business with personal relationships was never a good idea.
But something about the way he asked—calm, assured, but with a flicker of something else—made her hesitate. Against her better judgment, she nodded.
“Fine. But if this turns into some kind of networking event where ten men in suits try to sell me something, I’m leaving.”
His mouth twitched.
“Noted.”
The next night, Riley found herself standing in front of Oliver’s estate feeling more out of place than she ever had before. The driveway was packed with high-end cars.
The front entrance was flanked by uniformed staff ushering in guests dressed in sharp suits and elegant dresses. The estate, which always seemed massive when she arrived for training, now felt even more imposing.
It was filled with people who belonged in this world in a way she never would. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped inside.
The interior had been transformed. Soft lighting cast a golden hue over the dark marble floors. Waitstaff glided through the room carrying trays of champagne.
Conversations hummed around her. Business deals were being hinted at, and connections were being secured with a handshake.
She spotted Oliver across the room standing near the grand staircase in a tailored black suit. He looked every bit the powerful businessman: composed and unreadable as he listened to an older man speak.
Then, as if sensing her presence, his eyes lifted and locked onto hers. A slow shift passed over his expression. It was something almost imperceptible, but it sent a ripple of awareness through her.
He excused himself from the conversation and crossed the room with the same effortless confidence he carried everywhere. When he reached her, his gaze swept over her outfit.
“You clean up well.”
Riley crossed her arms.
“I almost didn’t come.”
“But you did.”
He said it like he had never doubted it. Before she could respond, a woman approached. She was striking with sharp cheekbones and a dress that probably cost more than Riley’s rent.
“Oliver, darling.”
The woman spoke smoothly, placing a hand on his arm.
“I was just telling Lawrence that your latest investment is all anyone can talk about.”
Oliver’s shoulders tensed slightly.
“Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s eyes flicked to Riley, assessing her with a polite but unmistakably curious glance.
“And who is this?”
Riley lifted her chin.
“His trainer.”
Charlotte’s lips curved in a knowing way.
“How interesting.”
Oliver’s jaw tightened just slightly, but before he could say anything, Riley turned to him.
“You didn’t mention this was a business thing.”
“It’s not entirely.”
Charlotte laughed softly.
“Oh, Oliver, you always were terrible at explaining things.”
Riley wasn’t sure what she was witnessing, but the tension between Oliver and Charlotte was impossible to miss. There was history there, and she didn’t like the way it made her feel.
“I think I’ll grab a drink.”
Riley said, stepping away before he could stop her. She needed a minute to clear her head, but it seemed that wasn’t in the cards.
As she reached the bar, a man in his late 40s dressed in an expensive suit turned toward her with interest.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Richard Langford.”
She shook his hand.
“Riley.”
His gaze lingered too long: too assessing, too curious.
“Oliver doesn’t typically bring guests outside of business. You must be special.”
She frowned.
“I’m his trainer.”
He smiled knowingly.
“Of course you are.”
Before she could decide if she wanted to be offended, a familiar presence appeared beside her. It was Oliver. His hand settled lightly at the small of her back.
It was just enough to stake a claim without being obvious.
“Richard.”
His voice was cool.
“I see you’ve met Riley.”
Richard’s smile didn’t waver.
“I was just welcoming her to the inner circle.”
Oliver’s fingers brushed against the fabric of her dress. It was the smallest movement, but enough to send a current through her.
“Riley doesn’t need welcoming.”
Something unspoken passed between the two men. Richard’s expression shifted slightly before he lifted his glass.
“Well then, enjoy your evening.”
As Richard walked away, Riley turned to Oliver.
“That was something.”
Oliver’s gaze was unreadable.
“Richard likes to collect information. He’s the type who makes assumptions and waits to see if they’re confirmed.”
“Assumptions about what?”
His eyes held hers.
“You and me.”
A strange, taut silence stretched between them. She should tell him that there was nothing to assume. She should say their relationship was strictly professional.
But the words didn’t come. In that moment, she realized something. She wasn’t entirely sure that was true anymore.
Riley didn’t leave the party early, though she wanted to. Something about the way Oliver had stood beside her made it impossible to walk away. His hand had rested just barely against her lower back.
She told herself it was curiosity, nothing more. She moved through the crowd, pretending not to notice when Oliver’s gaze tracked her from across the room.
Guests flitted between conversations, sipping from crystal glasses and exchanging polished smiles. These were the smiles that came from years of moving in the same elite circles.
She wasn’t meant to be here. This wasn’t her world. Yet Oliver had invited her, and that fact alone made it difficult to ignore what was happening between them.
As she reached the far end of the ballroom, she found a quiet corner by the open balcony doors. The night air was crisp. It carried the scent of freshly trimmed hedges and the distant sound of city life beyond the estate walls.
She inhaled deeply, grounding herself. The momentary peace was interrupted by a familiar voice.
“You always run when things get interesting.”
She turned, already knowing who she would find. Oliver leaned against the doorframe, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned now.
His tie was slightly loosened, like he had grown tired of maintaining the perfect image for his guests.
“Not running. I needed air.”
He stepped onto the balcony, the low hum of conversation fading behind him.
“Too much champagne and empty compliments?”
She huffed a laugh.
“Something like that.”
They stood in silence for a moment. The tension between them hummed like an electric current. He had a way of making her feel like he was waiting for her to say something.
He acted as though whatever came out of her mouth would determine what happened next.
“You didn’t have to come tonight.”
“You asked?”
His gaze flickered, some unreadable emotion passing through his expression.
“And that was enough.”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. Before she could, footsteps approached from inside. A man Riley hadn’t spoken to yet stepped onto the balcony.
His sharp eyes flicked between her and Oliver. He was older, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. He carried the kind of presence that suggested he was used to being the most important person in the room.
“Oliver.”
The man spoke, his voice smooth but edged with something calculating.
“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
Oliver’s expression cooled.
“Not avoiding, just occupied.”
The man’s gaze shifted to Riley, assessing her with the kind of interest that made her skin prickle.
“And who is this?”
Oliver’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Riley Monroe.”
The man extended a hand.
“Elliot Mercer.”
She froze. Mercer. Oliver’s father. She shook his hand, though she suddenly felt as though she had stepped onto unstable ground.
The resemblance between them was faint but it was there in the sharp lines of their faces. Both men carried themselves like they were used to being in control.
“I wasn’t aware Oliver was taking such a personal interest in his employees.”
Elliot’s tone was polite but laced with something sharper. Riley straightened.
“I’m his trainer.”
Elliot’s mouth curved slightly, though it wasn’t a smile.
“Of course.”
Oliver’s expression didn’t change, but his posture shifted just slightly. A tension settled in his shoulders.
“I assume you’re enjoying the party.”
Elliot continued addressing Riley, though his eyes flickered toward his son. She nodded.
“It’s impressive.”
Elliot chuckled, the sound low and knowing.
“Yes, my son has a talent for making things appear effortless.”
Oliver’s fingers tapped once against the balcony railing.
“Was there something you needed, Father?”
Elliot’s lips pressed together briefly before he exhaled.
“A conversation, but it can wait. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”
He cast one last glance at Riley before retreating back inside. He left behind the unmistakable weight of something unspoken. Riley exhaled slowly, turning to Oliver.
“That was unnecessary.”
“He finished.”
His voice was clipped. She hesitated.
“He doesn’t approve of me being here.”
Oliver’s jaw tightened.
“He doesn’t approve of most things I do.”
She studied him: the carefully controlled expression, the way his fingers curled slightly against the railing. He looked like he wanted to grip it harder but wouldn’t allow himself to.
“You don’t talk about him.”
“There’s not much to say.”
She gave him a look.
“There’s always something to say.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before shaking his head.
“Not tonight.”
She didn’t push. Instead, she said:
“I should go.”
Something flashed across his face: something quick, something she couldn’t quite name.
“I’ll have my driver take you.”
“I can take a cab.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
She could have argued. She should have. But there was something in the way he said it that made her nod instead.
As they walked back inside, the energy of the party swirled around them. But it felt different now. Something between them had shifted, and Riley wasn’t sure she was ready for what came next.
