An Armored Heart

AN ARMORED HEART RC BOLDT Copyright © 2023 by RC Boldt All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by trademark owners. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features in any media form are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms are used in this work of fiction. Cover design: By Hang Le Visit my website at www.rcboldtbooks.com. Sign up for my mailing list: https://bit.ly/3raidhQ ABOUT THE BOOK Four months. That's how long I’ll need to pretend to be Steele Cunningham's doting girlfriend. I agreed to this insanity only to save my restaurant. He's doing it because he needs someone outside his “social circle” to stick it to his meddling parents and clingy ex. Ruthless and emotionless in both his personal life and his career, Steele’s ego rivals his net worth. Operating on joy and positivity—and a healthy bit of feistiness—I challenge him at every step. He’s a tin man—heartless and cold. Falling for him would be a colossal mistake, because there’s no chance he’ll ever love me. He can’t. After all, he’s the man with an armored heart. 1 DANIELLA “ELLA” MARCHETTI I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. There’s a reason I’m giving myself a mental pep talk here on the sidewalk outside the entrance to Solaris Land Development. A hugely important reason. I need to convince Steele Cunningham, CEO and owner of Solaris, that demolishing my restaurant and putting high-rise condos in its place is a terrible judgment call. Catching sight of my reflection in the opaque glass windows, I make the quick decision to tug my hair from its messy bun. Once freed, it spills well past my shoulders and down my back in loose black waves. It can’t hurt to play up my attributes. After all, if he doesn’t soften up to a woman who can cook well, he might have a weakness for women with long hair. It’s at least worth a shot. Tucking my hair tie in the back pocket of my black slacks, I smooth a hand down my matching tank top. I hike the straps of my bag more firmly over my shoulder and tug open the door. At my approach, the young woman at the front desk raises her head. Exuding an I’m new here vibe—which totally works in my favor—she greets me with a polite smile that screams of nervousness. Gesturing to my bag adorned with my restaurant’s name, I offer a bright smile. “I have a food delivery for Mr. Cunningham.” Her expression goes from welcoming to wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights mode. “I wasn’t aware that Mr. Cunningham placed a lunch order.” She scans the computer screen in front of her before hurriedly sifting through Post-it note reminders adorning her desk. A lot of them. She mutters, her panic so potent it pollutes the air. “Did I write it down and forget?” “He placed the order in advance.” My words spill out in a rush, because good grief, I fear this poor woman will go into nervous convulsions at any second. “I can just take it to him personally.” Her body goes rigid, resembling a soldier snapping to attention before she casts a petrified glance down the hallway perpendicular to us. “Oh, no. Only approved individuals are permitted to enter Mr. Cunningham’s office.” Well…shit. “Okay.” Think, Ella. Think! “Could you—” The phone rings at this moment, and she holds up a finger at me. “One moment, please.” She answers with a cheery, “Solaris Land Development, this is Melena. How can I help you?” A moment later, she lowers her head to sift frantically through a notebook filled with sheet-protected papers. I retreat a step, edging toward the particular hallway she’d glanced at earlier. I’m betting that’s where I’ll find Steele Cunningham’s office. I’m technically verging into trespassing territory, but there’s too much at stake to not give it a shot. Nonchalantly, I move closer to the hallway, step by tiny step. When the receptionist’s head lifts, she does a double take upon noticing I’ve moved. Panic paints her features a second later, leading me to believe whoever’s on the other end of the call must be intense. Her distressed expression increases as she flips through her bible of a binder and sputters, “Uh, yes, sir. I can get that information for you.” This is when I make a run for it. Surging down the hall as rapidly as possible without disrupting the food in my bag, I stop at the last office door. A shiny placard adorns the wall to the right of it. Its frame clarifies whose office it is. Steele Cunningham CEO and Owner When his door swings open abruptly, I step aside, and it’s a good thing I do. An attractive woman emerges with a pen and notepad in one hand and a cell phone in the other. The latter holds her attention as she nearly plows me over. She skids to a halt. “Oh! I’m sorry!” Her brows draw together in surprise, which transitions to dismayed horror when she spots the insulated bag I’m carrying, the restaurant name and logo prominent. Voice