Single Mom Sat at a Table for One — Until the CEO Appeared and Whispered: “Pretend I’m Your Husband”
An Unexpected Proposition at Bella Norte
Natalie Parker sat at a table for one in the dimly lit corner of Bella Norte, an Italian restaurant far too expensive for her budget. The white tablecloth gleamed under soft chandelier light, making her feel even more out of place.
She smoothed down her only decent dress, a navy blue number she’d bought 3 years ago for job interviews. She glanced nervously at her watch.
6:30. Her reservation had been for 6, and she’d already gotten sympathetic glances from the hostess and waiter.
Another 30 minutes and even their patience would wear thin. “Just a little longer please,” she had murmured when the waiter approached for the third time.
“My dinner companion might still arrive.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
The truth was there was no dinner companion. There was only her seven-year-old daughter Zoe at home with a babysitter and a desperately needed job interview.
The interview had morphed into a dinner invitation from the hiring manager. Andrew Keller had been clear: dinner at Bella Norte at 6:00 sharp.
But he was nowhere to be found. Natalie was beginning to suspect she’d been stood up or worse, tested in some cruel way.
She needed this marketing position at Parker and Reed Publishing desperately. Her ex-husband Derek had walked out 18 months ago, leaving her with a mountain of debt and a broken heart.
She’d struggled to find work that paid enough while allowing her to be there for Zoe. Her savings were nearly depleted, and this month’s rent was already 2 weeks late.
Natalie took a small sip of water, trying to look composed. She was mentally calculating how many more minutes she could reasonably wait before accepting defeat.
The restaurant buzzed with conversation and laughter around her. Couples leaned toward each other over candlelit tables.
Business associates in tailored suits were clinking glasses. No one else sat alone.
Just as she was reaching for her purse, resigned to leaving, a commotion erupted at the front of the restaurant. A tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit strode through the entrance.
His presence commanded immediate attention. His dark hair was slightly windblown, and his jawline could have been carved from marble.
Several diners turned to stare. The maitre d’ practically tripped over himself rushing to greet him.
Natalie watched with mild interest, grateful for the distraction from her humiliation. To her shock, after a brief exchange with the maitre d’, the man turned and walked directly toward her table.
His intense gaze locked on hers. Before she could process what was happening, he slipped into the chair opposite her.
He leaned across the table and spoke in a low, rich voice that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “I’m terribly sorry I’m late. Please pretend I’m your husband for the next 10 minutes and I’ll explain everything.”
Natalie froze, clutching her water glass. Up close, she recognized him instantly.
Jackson Reed, CEO of Parker and Reed Publishing. This was the same company where she was interviewing.
The company’s name had been plastered across business magazines for months. Reed had orchestrated a brilliant turnaround of the struggling publishing house.
“I… what?” she managed to stammer. His eyes, a striking hazel, held an urgency that stopped her from immediately calling for help.
“Please,” he repeated more softly this time. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Over his shoulder, Natalie spotted a woman in a sleek red dress entering the restaurant. She was scanning the tables with predatory focus.
Jackson Reed followed her gaze and tensed visibly. Making a split-second decision that she would probably regret, Natalie reached across the table and took his hand.
“Darling,” she said, loud enough to be heard at nearby tables. “I was beginning to worry.”
Relief washed over his features. “Traffic was a nightmare,” he replied smoothly.
His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a gesture that seemed oddly intimate for complete strangers. “Have you ordered yet?”
The woman in red had spotted them. She was now approaching their table with determination.
As she drew closer, Natalie noticed her immaculate makeup, designer clothing, and the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Jackson,” the woman purred, stopping directly beside their table.
“What a coincidence finding you here.” Jackson’s grip on Natalie’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Victoria. Yes, quite a surprise.” Victoria’s gaze slid to Natalie, assessing her with a single sweep.
The look made Natalie acutely aware of her department store dress and lack of expensive jewelry. “And who might this be?”
Before Jackson could answer, Natalie found herself speaking. “I’m Natalie Reed,” she said, the surname falling from her lips before she could think better of it.
“Jackson’s wife.” Victoria’s perfectly shaped eyebrows arched upward.
“Wife? How unexpected. Jackson never mentioned being married.”
“We’ve been keeping it quiet,” Jackson said smoothly. “You know how I value my privacy, Victoria.”
Victoria’s crimson lips tightened. “Indeed. Well, I won’t interrupt your dinner.”
She lingered on the last word as if suggesting something entirely different. “But do remember our meeting tomorrow, Jackson. The board is eager to hear your decision on the merger.”
After Victoria reluctantly departed, Natalie pulled her hand away. “You have exactly 30 seconds to explain before I walk out of here,” she whispered fiercely.
Jackson ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. “Victoria Blackwell, CEO of Apex Media.”
“They’ve been trying to orchestrate a hostile takeover of Parker and Reed for months. She’s been persistent, both professionally and personally.”
“I needed an exit strategy tonight.” “So you used me, a complete stranger?”
“Not exactly.” His expression shifted to one of genuine contrition.
“You’re Natalie Parker, interviewing for our marketing director position. Andrew Keller was supposed to meet you, but he had a family emergency.”
“I was coming to apologize in person and reschedule when I spotted Victoria entering behind me.” Natalie felt the blood drain from her face.
“You know who I am?” “Your resume was impressive.”
“I make it a point to review all executive-level candidates.” He signaled to the waiter.
“The least I can do now is buy you dinner and conduct the interview myself.” “This is completely inappropriate,” Natalie said.
However, she found herself not reaching for her purse. “Absolutely,” he agreed.
“But I’m hoping you’re hungry enough to overlook that for now.” Natalie should have left.
She should have maintained her professional dignity. But something in his genuine smile combined with the very real growl of her empty stomach.
The knowledge that this might be her only chance at landing this job made her stay. “I want to be clear,” she said as the waiter approached.
“I don’t make a habit of pretending to be married to CEOs I’ve just met.” Jackson’s laugh was unexpected and warm.
“And I don’t make a habit of asking beautiful women to pose as my wife.” He paused, then added more seriously.
“Though I suspect neither of us expected how this evening would unfold.” As they ordered, Natalie couldn’t shake a feeling.
This bizarre encounter was about to change everything. Whether for better or worse remained to be seen.
The waiter returned with their appetizers. There was a plate of calamari that Natalie would never have ordered for herself.
There was also a selection of bruschetta that smelled divine. She watched as Jackson Reed expertly squeezed lemon over the calamari.
His movements were precise and confident. “So,” he said, pushing the plate toward the center of the table.
It was a silent invitation to share. “Tell me about yourself beyond what I read in your resume.”
“What brings a talented marketing professional with your background to Parker and Reed?” Natalie carefully selected a piece of bruschetta.
She was buying herself time to consider her answer. The usual polished interview responses seemed inappropriate given their unusual circumstances.
“Honestly? I need a job that will allow me to support my daughter and still be present in her life.” She met his gaze directly.
“The flexible schedule mentioned in your job posting caught my attention almost as much as the salary.” Jackson seemed surprised by her candor.
“Your daughter Zoe, right? She’s seven.” Natalie tensed.
“You’ve done your homework.” “You mentioned her in your cover letter,” he explained.
“Said she was the reason you’ve been freelancing for the past year instead of returning to agency work.” “Yes, well, single parenting doesn’t exactly mesh with 60-hour work weeks and constant client emergencies.”
She took a bite of the bruschetta. She nearly closed her eyes at the perfect blend of flavors.
“After Derek, my ex-husband, left, I had to rethink everything.” “That must have been difficult,” Jackson said.
His tone was genuinely empathetic rather than pitying. “It was.”
Natalie surprised herself with her openness. “One day I had a partner and a secure future.”
“The next I was alone with a 5-year-old, a mortgage I couldn’t afford, and skills that seemed suddenly insufficient.” Their entrée arrived.
It was a mushroom risotto for her and osso buco for him. This momentarily paused their conversation.
When the waiter departed, Jackson leaned forward slightly. “And yet your portfolio shows remarkable work during exactly that time period.”
“The Highlands Creek tourism campaign was brilliant. Increased visitor traffic by 40% in a notoriously difficult market.” Natalie felt her cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment.
“That campaign was born of desperation, actually. I needed to prove myself quickly after starting freelance work.” “Desperation often breeds innovation,” Jackson remarked.
“Some of my best business decisions came when my back was against the wall.” “Like pretending a job candidate is your wife to avoid an aggressive competitor?”
Natalie couldn’t resist asking, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Jackson laughed, the sound rich and unguarded.
“Touché, Miss Parker. Though I’d call that more improvisation than desperation.” As they ate, their conversation flowed surprisingly easily.
Jackson asked insightful questions about her previous campaigns. He seemed genuinely interested in her creative process.
In turn, Natalie found herself curious about his journey. “How does someone your age end up CEO of a publishing empire?” she asked.
“The business press makes it sound like you appeared out of nowhere 3 years ago.” Something flickered across his expression.
It was a shadow that vanished so quickly she might have imagined it. “The simplified version?”
“I started in the mail room at 19. Worked my way through college doing various jobs at smaller publishing houses.” “Made some smart investments and eventually had enough capital to become a major stakeholder when Parker and Reed were struggling.”
“And the unsimplified version?” Jackson studied her for a moment.
“That’s considerably longer and not nearly as tidy.” He took a sip of his wine.
“But it involves a foster care system that failed me repeatedly. A high school librarian who quite literally saved my life by introducing me to books.” “And a stubborn refusal to accept the future that statistics predicted for someone with my background.”
Natalie felt as though she’d been granted a glimpse behind a carefully constructed facade. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You didn’t,” he assured her. “Curiosity is an asset in marketing. You should know who you might be working for.”
