My Boss’s Son Gave Me A Makeover To Win Another Man — But He Hid One Massive Secret

Part 1

The deafening roar of the motorcycle engines rattled my teeth as I marched straight onto the asphalt track and raised my hand.

A sleek black sports bike skidded to a halt inches from my sensible loafers.

The rider kicked down the stand and ripped off his helmet to glare at me.

It was Craig, the notorious playboy heir to the company where I worked as a severely overworked secretary.

I squared my shoulders and told him his father, our CEO Mr.

Miller, was demanding his immediate return to the office.

Craig just laughed, tossing his messy hair in the wind, and leaned over his handlebars to mock my dull gray suit.

Before I could fire back a professional reprimand, a familiar voice called out from the sidelines.

Tyler, my best friend from college and the man I had secretly loved for four excruciating years, jogged over to the fence.

He smiled that easy, oblivious smile of his and asked what I was doing at a grimy racetrack.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I stumbled over an excuse about running errands.

Craig’s sharp eyes darted between Tyler and my burning face.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Craig’s lips as he realized exactly what was going on.

He leaned down close to my ear and whispered that unless I wanted him to announce my tragic little crush to the entire pit crew, I was going to do exactly what he said.

We struck a devil’s bargain in the corner of the garage.

I agreed to cover all of his corporate paperwork and lie to his father about his whereabouts so he could keep racing.

In return, Craig promised to use his vast, annoying expertise in dating to turn me into the kind of woman Tyler would finally notice.

I didn’t trust his methods, but I was desperate enough to try anything after years of being completely invisible.

The lessons began the very next evening in the empty corporate boardroom.

Craig dragged me in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrored walls and mercilessly critiqued my posture.

He told me that men were visual creatures and my oversized cardigans were essentially camouflage.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms defensively.

He stepped into my personal space, his hands gently gripping my shoulders to pull them back.

The sudden warmth of his palms through my blouse sent an unexpected jolt down my spine.

He instructed me to stop hiding myself and to hold eye contact until the other person looked away first.

I tried to hold his gaze, but his dark eyes were intense, stripping away all my usual defenses until I had to look down at the carpet.

A few days later, Craig insisted I needed to learn how to move with confidence, which somehow led to salsa dancing in his living room.

I stepped on his expensive shoes at least five times within the first ten minutes.

He let out an exasperated sigh, wrapped one arm firmly around my waist, and captured my hand with his other.

He pulled me flush against his chest so I could feel the rhythm of his breathing.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

We glided across the hardwood floor, perfectly in sync, and for a fleeting moment, I completely forgot about Tyler.

Craig spun me out and pulled me back in, our faces ending up mere inches apart.

He murmured that I was actually beautiful when I wasn’t busy glaring at him.

I shoved him away, my breath hitching, and quickly reminded him that this was all just practice for someone else.

Craig’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The real test came on a humid Saturday afternoon.

Tyler had casually mentioned a pool party at an exclusive club downtown.

Craig insisted I attend to show off my new confidence, even though he had his own racing event that day.

I showed up wearing a modest sundress, my stomach churning with anxiety.

The moment I stepped onto the pool deck, the music seemed to drop a decibel.

Megan, a glamorous woman who had always treated me like a pesky gnat in college, sauntered over with her clique in tow.

She loudly mocked my outfit, asking if I had raided a grandmother’s closet.

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

I scanned the sea of faces, desperately looking for Tyler.

He was standing by the cabana, holding a drink, watching the whole scene unfold without taking a single step to intervene.

My chest tightened with a sickening wave of realization.

Megan signaled her friends, and they closed in on me.

They grabbed the hem of my dress, taunting that they were going to do me a favor and strip me down to my swimsuit.

I twisted away, my voice cracking as I told them to back off.

One of them grabbed my shoulder, pushing me dangerously close to the edge of the pool.

The crowd jeered, eagerly waiting for me to fall in and humiliate myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the icy splash of the water.

A strong hand clamped around Megan’s wrist, but when I looked up, the person standing between me and the crowd wasn’t the man I’d spent the last four years dreaming about.