"Engaged." Her fingers curled into his shirt. The word came out mean and sharp and exactly right. "He'll spiral. Publicly. It'll be beautiful."
She still hadn't lifted her head. Wasn't planning to. This was a perfectly reasonable place to plan revenge—pressed against her CEO's chest in a supply closet hallway, mascara probably everywhere.
His hand slid lower on her back. His arms wrapped tighter. Her ribs felt the pressure—good pressure, the kind that holds things together.
"He'll believe it," Killian said.
She tipped her head back just enough to look at him. "You think?"
"Yes. Because Chad believes what hurts him."
Her forehead dropped back against wool. Her spine had gone soft. When had that happened?
"So we just—what, walk out there? Announce it?"
"We don't give him room to doubt it."
"How?"
"I have something in my office. Come with me."
She stepped back, hooked her arm through his. They made it one step before she paused, turned back, and walked to the cupcake box by the supply closet door. Killian raised an eyebrow—part question, part judgment.
"I paid for it."
She flipped the lid, plucked the #1 Boyfriend pick out of the frosting, and tossed it back into the box. This was her double-chocolate fudge terrible-decision cupcake, and she was going to enjoy it.
She took a massive, defiant bite.
Then her face fell.
It tasted like regret with frosting.
She stared at the cupcake like it had personally betrayed her, then shoved the rest back in the box and wiped her hands with a napkin like she could erase the moment.
She hooked her arm through his again. "Okay. Now let's go ruin his day."
They walked the length of the executive floor in silence, long enough for April to catalog every reason this was a terrible idea.
"I shouldn't be doing this," she said. "It's petty."
"It's consequence," Killian said.
His office door closed behind them. He slid the sailboat painting aside and placed his hand on the biometric panel, then turned back to her with a small velvet box.
"Killian, that's—" April breathed, eyes wide.
"A solution," he said as he flipped the lid, so the diamond caught the light. "My grandmother's."
"I can't wear a family heirloom for a prank." April shook her head.
"Why not? It's not doing anyone any good locked away in a dark box. Let it do some damage for once." He extended his hand, palm up, holding the ring loosely in his other. "May I?"
She placed her left hand in his and Killian slid the ring on her finger. The band settled against her skin like it had been waiting.
Killian was watching her. She didn't know how long he'd been doing it. But something in his face had shifted. Like he'd stopped pretending not to see her.
"You don't have to," she said quickly. "I know this is…"
