Maybe they decided to go in a different direction. Maybe Heidi had found a model who was willing to play the role, or maybe the whole idea had been scrapped entirely. Dane had never been thrilled at the prospect.
I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt weirdly disappointed.
My laptop pinged with an email notification. It was from Lucas. Considering the late hour, it had to be important.
I opened the email and immediately saw a link to Cupid’s Arrow, followed by a screenshot of what appeared to be a dating profile.
Mydating profile.
The profile photo was from the Christmas party. Lucas had taken it on his phone, catching me mid-laugh at something Norma had said. The image was zoomed in on just my face.
I looked happy. Approachable. Like someone you might want to meet for coffee. It was a really nice picture. He had found my good side.
Lucas had taken the time to write a brief bio. I scrolled down to the body of the email.
Ina,
Surprise! You’re officially a Cupid’s Arrow success story (or you will be once we launch the campaign). Attached is yournew profile. It’s deactivated for now, but it’ll go “live” as part of the backstory for how you and Dane “met.”
Don’t worry, we pulled all this info from your HR file and some very light social media stalking. The matchmakers helped make sure it sounds authentic.
Also attached: NDA. Read it, sign it, send it back. Standard stuff about not discussing the campaign publicly, not contradicting the official narrative, blah blah blah. Heidi’s lawyer made it sound scary but it’s actually pretty straightforward.
Dane will reach out with details about your first date.
Congratulations!
Lucas
I clicked on the NDA attachment.
It was really happening. Not just happening—it was already in motion. They created a whole profile for me. And prepared legal documents to make sure I couldn’t back out or blow the story.
I was reading through the NDA, which was indeed scary despite Lucas’s reassurances, when my phone started ringing. Unknown number. I almost didn’t answer.
But something made me pick up.
“Hello?”
“Ina. It’s Dane.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “Mr. Kavanagh?” I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight-thirty. “Is everything okay?”
“I need you to meet me for dinner.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what? When?”
“Tonight. Now, ideally.” His voice was calm, businesslike, like he was scheduling a meeting and not calling me at home on a Tuesday night. “Can you be ready in twenty minutes? I’ll send a car.”
“At this time of night?” I laughed. “I ate hours ago.”
“Then just have dessert. So twenty minutes?”
I looked down at my sweatpants, and with my free hand I touched my face with the mask still on. “Tonight?”
“Lucas forwarded you the NDA?”
“Yes.”
