Chapter 5
The office was stillin that eerie, after-hours way. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while phones and keyboards had fallen silent hours ago. He sat at the head of the conference table, laptop open, legal pad and Montblanc pen aligned. Across from him, she perched on the chair’s edge, legs tucked beneath her with casual confidence.
“Thank you for staying late.” His eyes remained on his screen.
“Of course.” She spun her pen. “It’s not every day your boss proposes a fake engagement.” A grin touched her lips but vanished when he looked up at her. “I mean, happy to help.”
“Good.” He turned the laptop toward her, displaying meticulously formatted bullet points. “We need a consistent narrative—key milestones, dates, reasons for the relationship’s progression. If we’re going to convince Andrew Beauchamp, this story must hold under scrutiny.”
“Milestones?” She tilted her head, golden hair catching the light. “Like when we first met? Or ‘first time I forgot your coffee order.’”
“First meeting.” He crossed his arms. “Noone forgets my coffee order.”
“Right. Black, no sugar, no joy.” She scrawled details at the top of the page in her loopy, colorful handwriting, her sparkly pen moving with exaggerated flair. “Okay, Mr. Logic, what’s the plan?”
“Keep it simple. We met here. At work.”
“Sure, but boring.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t we add some sparkle? A coffee-shop meet-cute?”
“That didn’t happen,” he stated flatly.
“But isn’t the point to craft a story that’s romantic and swoon-worthy?”
“Romance isn’t the objective. Credibility is.”
“Ronan.” She gave him that imploring look that made him feel both challenged and oddly disarmed. “For people to believe this, it has to feel real. People aren’t spreadsheets. Even Andrew Beauchamp.”
“That’s debatable,” he returned, earning her laugh. He exhaled sharply. “Fine. But we still met at work. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Logical.” She tapped her pen against her chin. “But not memorable. What if we started with a more serendipitous beginning? Like locking eyes across the room at a gala.”
“I wouldn’t have met you anywhere else but here.” The words slipped out unchecked, landing like a pebble in still water, sending ripples through the space between them. She blinked, her pen pausing mid-tap. For once, she seemed at a loss for words, her bright, teasing demeanor dimmed by a more subdued quality.
“Well…” Her voice was quieter now when she finally spoke. “When you put it like that.”
“Let’s move on.” His gaze dropped back to his laptop, though the air in the room felt different now, charged.
“Right. So…first date? Please tell me you’re not going to say the office break room.”
He looked at her. “Focus.”
“Fine, fine.” A laugh escaped her. “But if we’re sticking to the truth, we need to add some color. No one will believe you swept me off my feet over spreadsheets.”
“Why not?” He frowned. “It makes sense. It’s logical.”
“We’re crafting a love story, not a business proposal. Love doesn’t come with bullet points.”
“I’d argue structure is what this needs.” He maintained his position. “The truth is the strongest foundation.”
“Sure.” She tilted her head. “But even truth needs sparkle. What if we say you noticed me at one of those corporate parties you pretend to enjoy?”
“Pretend to enjoy?” He shot her a dry look.
“Picture it. You’re brooding by the bar in your perfectly tailored suit, and then”—her voice took on a dramatic flair—“you see me under the chandelier, laughing, and everything changes.”
“Everything changes,” he repeated flatly.
“Too much?” She laughed. “But admit it—better than ‘we met because you caught me stealing your stapler.’”
