My Pretty White Boy

Chapter 1

Allan

I look up from the laptop and see my phone ringing on the desk as the afternoon light filters into the expansive windows of my office. A frown takes hold of my lips as I read the name of my grandfather, Martin, on the caller ID. What could he possibly want at this hour?

I sigh and lean back on the black leather chair as I take the phone and accept his call. I love the old man, but sometimes, he picks the worst times to call. After all, I’m just about to finish the new line of men suits set to debut in Milan Fashion Week. 

“Old man, what do you want?” 

“Now boy, that’s no way to speak to your grandfather,” Martin replies with a teasing but loving voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I met the nicest woman who’d be perfect for you.”

Oh fuck, it’s one of his stupid blind dates again. 

What is this? The fifth woman in under a month? Is he this desperate to see some grandkids?

“Grandfather,” I say in exasperation as I massage the headache that’s starting to form. “Not this again. I told you that I’m not interested because I want to focus on Executive Trend.”

“Boy, if you keep this up, you’ll never find a wife. And where would you be without me and your grandmother, huh?”

I groan, but I try not to argue back. Once my grandmother is mentioned, he’ll start delving into a long and exhausting monologue of his love for her. I’d rather shut down this idea as soon as possible so that I can get back to work.

“She’s a lovely young woman. Her name is Charmaine White, and she’s my seamstress.”

I sigh and close my eyes as I try to count to ten to rein in my annoyance. “I’m sure she’s as lovely as the last five women you set me up, grandfather. But I told you, I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even met her, Allan!” he argues back, his voice gruff and admonishing. 

Truthfully, I don’t even need to meet her to know I’m not interested. I mean, a seamstress? I can already imagine what she’ll look like—a woman with black-rimmed glasses and a tape measurer hanging on her shoulders. 

And if my grandfather likes her, then she’ll automatically be as interesting as wet cardboard. 

“Just try it out, Allan. I bet you’re going to have fun.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I’m not really going to, but if it saying so will stop grandfather from nagging and let me go back to work, then why the hell not, right? I’ll wait a day or two until the old man forgets about it. 

“You’re as stubborn as a mule, Allan.” Martin sighs. “But I suppose you got that from me.”

I smile because it’s true. I really do get it from him. After all, I wouldn’t be the CEO of Exclusive Trend if I didn’t have an ounce of Martin Landers in me. 

“Goodbye, grandfather. I’ll see you at the weekend dinner. Send grandmother all my love.”

“She’d be happier if you send her grandkids,” Martin grumbles just as he hangs up the phone. 

I chuckle softly before I toss the phone back on the desk. I tilt my head to the ceiling and think about it for a moment. It’s true that I’ve never had time to get involved with a woman other than a quick fuck, but that’s because I want to focus on Executive Trend. 

Some people might think that it’s cold, maybe a little selfish, but I don’t have the time or the interest to get myself involved with a woman. Being the CEO of Executive Trend is the most important thing in my life right now. 

I rotate the sore muscles of my right shoulder before I pick up where I left off. 

When I work, I’m completely in the zone. I hate it when I get disturbed. That’s why I tell my assistant to never let anyone in unless it’s life or death. 

So imagine my shock when an hour after my grandfather’s call, I see him sauntering into my office with a big triumphant grin. 

“I have something for you, Allan,” he says with a smug smile as he hands me a thick stack of papers in a white folder. 

I take it from his hand, and even before I open it, I already know what’s inside. The transfer copy for Martin Landers’ share of Executive Trend—something I’ve desperately wanted since I became the CEO. 

“What’s the catch?” I ask as I look at him suspiciously. 

Martin grins and crosses his arms in front of him. “I want you to marry Charmaine White.”

“The seamstress woman?” I exclaim as I look at him in absolute shock. “You don’t want a date now…you want marriage?”

“Listen, Allan.” He sighs as he goes around the desk and lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I know how much you love this company. I get it, I really do, but it’s a lonely road to trek on when you’re alone without a good companion and partner to support you.”

“So forcing marriage on me is the answer?” My hands grip the folder tight in annoyance.  

“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” Martin takes a step back and regards me seriously. “Take the deal or not, it’s your choice.”

“And you think this,” I narrow my eyes when the name of the seamstress woman escapes me, “Charlene woman is for me?”

“Boy, her name is Charmaine. If you want to have a happy marriage, you better learn to remember her name!” Martin lets out a boisterous laugh. 

I frown and glare at my grandfather before my hazel eyes flick to the folder in my hands. Am I willing to take this deal just for my grandfather’s share of the company? To potentially marry a boring and dull woman to achieve my grand goals for Executive Trend?

“She’s a good woman, Allan,” Martin pats my shoulder. “You could do a lot worse.”

I sigh in defeat. Maybe I can check her out first before agreeing to this deal. I could even ask my assistant to run a background check just in case. 

After all, what do I’ve got nothing to lose.