She rose from her desk and moved to greet them. “Mr. Beauchamp, welcome,” she said, extending her hand. “I’ll let Ronan know you’ve arrived.”
Ronan appeared at her side. “Andrew,” he greeted, extending his hand. “Right on time.”
“Good to see you again, Wilder,” Andrew said, clasping his hand firmly. “Shall we get started?”
“Of course.” Ronan placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s head to the conference room. Everything is ready.”
As they walked down the hall, he led the way with her beside him, his hand remaining at her back while Andrew and his team followed. When they reached the conference room, his hand dropped as he prepared to open the door. Before doing so, he leaned close to her, his breath against her ear.
“Ready?” he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear.
She turned to face him, their faces mere inches apart. “Yes.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and then with a subtle gesture hidden from the Beauchamp party, he reached for her hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it to open the door.
The meeting stretched for two hours, with him masterfully presenting his expansion plans and fielding questions. Throughout it all, she felt his gaze returning to her again and again, as if drawing strength from her presence. When Andrew finally nodded his approval and slid the signed investment papers across the table, Ronan’s eyes found hers immediately, bright with triumph.
“I look forward to seeing where you take this,” Andrew said, rising to shake his hand.
“We appreciate your confidence in us,” he replied.
As they escorted the Beauchamp party to the elevator, the reality settled over her. The charade had served its purpose. Andrew had signed the investment deal.
Back in the office, a champagne toast with the team celebrated the successful deal. The atmosphere was electric. This investment meant expansion, security, growth. As glasses clinked and congratulations flowed, she stood slightly apart, watching him accept handshakes and backslaps from the department heads.
She caught fragments of whispered conversations as she moved through the gathering—sleeping with the boss … you don’t bring someone flowers like that unless…figured trouble was going on between those two…
The words stung. What they’d shared had been real and was now reduced to office gossip and speculation.
She noticed Julia from Accounting huddled with two other women from Finance, their eyes shifting toward her. Everything she’d worked for, every boundary she’d tried to maintain crumbled under their scrutiny.
But more than that, she needed to protect what she and Ronan had found together. Whatever it was—love, attraction, something precious and fragile—it didn’t deserve to be torn apart by office vultures.
She moved to the center of the room and cleared her throat. Several heads turned in her direction.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice carrying across the space. More conversations halted, attention shifting toward her. “I’d like to say something.”
The room hushed. Across the gathering, she could see Ronan looking up. When their eyes met, his expression shifted to alarm.
“I know there have been rumors circulating,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribs. “About Mr. Wilder and me.”
The silence in the room deepened. Across the room, Ronan’s face had gone pale, and he was subtly shaking his head at her, a desperate warning in his eyes.
“I want to be clear about one detail. We are not dating. We are not anything but boss and assistant.” The lie burned as it left her mouth.
“We created this fiction to present a united front for the Beauchamp deal,” she explained, her voice strong. “It was a business strategy, nothing more. And it worked. The deal you’re celebrating right now? It secured all of your jobs for the long term. So instead of gossiping about my personal life, perhaps you could focus on that.”
She could see the horror on Ronan’s face, but she felt only the rush of defiant satisfaction. Let them judge her for being strategic.
“The relationship, all of it, was carefully orchestrated to give Mr. Wilder the family-man image that Beauchamp values,” she continued, each word a betrayal of her own heart. “We played our roles, we got the contract, and now it’s done.”
The room was dead silent. Shocked expressions surrounded her.
Then she noticed everyone’s eyes had shifted to a spot behind her.
She turned, and the blood drained from her face. Andrew Beauchamp stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“I believe I left my phone in the conference room,” Andrew said, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.
