I was so doomed.

“Mr. Fairchild, this is our newest and most impressive recruit, Parker Brown.” Jackson grinned at me.

I held out my hand to Mr. Fairchild.

Franklin Fairchild was from Boston’s old money. He’d taken what he’d inherited as a young man and quadrupled it by investing it wisely. By his own admission, he was surrounded by a great team of advisors. It was those same advisors that told him renewable energy was a smart place to invest.

He wasn’t particularly green, which chafed a little, as he had way more input in the company than I’d thought a guy like him would have time for.

Fairchild shook my hand, an aggressive, energetic pump up and down. “Tiny woman, big brain, huh?” He laughed.

Oh yeah, like I’d never heard that one before. My smile was pained. When Jackson turned to Rhys, my smile was paralyzed with agony.

“And this must be the boyfriend.” Jackson couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. Of course he was surprised! Rhys was not at all what anyone would expect of me and I certainly knew I wasn’t Rhys Morgan’s type. A guy like him probably dated women with massive breasts and asses honed to defy gravity from daily squat thrusts.

My mouth was opening, the word no about to spill out in great vehemence when—

“Yeah.” Rhys held out a hand to shake Jackson’s. “I’m Parker’s boyfriend. Rhys. How’s it going?”

I think my brain was having a signaling issue because I thought I just heard him say he was my boyfriend.

Rhys smirked at me, the devil dancing in those disarming eyes.

He did!

He most assuredly did!

What the heck was he up to?

I was going to vomit. I was going to vomit all over Mr. Fairchild’s Prada loafers.

“Rhys?” Mr. Fairchild practically bulldozed past Jackson to get to my tormentor. “Rhys Morgan, I’ll be damned.”

Wait, what?

I watched Fairchild pump Rhys’s hand, grinning at him like he was the second coming, and then felt the floor disappear beneath me when he turned to Jackson and said, “You didn’t tell me Parker was dating Rhys Morgan.”

At our blank expressions, Fairchild guffawed. “He’s only the best goddamn heavyweight boxer this country has seen in a generation.” He clamped a hand down on Rhys’s shoulder. “You’re sitting with me, son.”

What?

As Mr. Fairchild led Dean’s brother into the restaurant, Rhys looked over his shoulder at me and winked.

Actually winked.

Ugh, he was the devil.

In all my sand-snake dimension wishing, had I inadvertently wished open a gate to another dimension where an angry boxer just lied to my bosses about dating me?