Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
But I was nothing if not patient. It was a quality that had served me well in business, and I would employ it now. Raina was worth pursuing carefully, deliberately. Our working relationship complicated things, and something was making her hold back. I’d seen it in her eyes when I had her pinned against the door, the flicker of desire followed immediately by resistance. I didn’t know if it was worry about her job or something else entirely, but I intended to find out.
As for me, I was done pretending.
I’d wanted this woman from the moment she walked into my office with that bright, nervous smile, clutching a container of cookies like a peace offering. If I was honest with myself, I’d been lost in those blue eyes from day one. Fighting it had been nothing but a waste of time and energy.
After the gala, I’d tried to convince myself that maintaining professional boundaries was still possible, that we could navigate the fake relationship without crossing any real lines. But something had shifted this morning. The moment I realized her subdued mood was because she was upset about why I’d kissed her, not the kiss itself, my resolve crumbled to dust.
She’d wanted it to be real.
And so had I.
I’d spent years keeping romance and business separate, refusing to blur those lines. It was a rule I’d never broken, never even been remotely tempted to break.
Until her.
Raina had changed everything. She’d slipped past defenses I didn’t even know I had, made me feel things I’d convinced myself I was better off without. And now, standing in my office with the ghost of her perfume still lingering in the air, I knew there was no going back.
Professional boundaries be damned.
Raina might believe we were fake dating—a convenient ruse to impress Alexander Spencer—but for me, the lines had already blurred beyond recognition.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Raina
I’d never been so grateful for the relentless pace of Monday mornings. The endless stream of emails, phone calls, and scheduling conflicts gave me plenty to occupy my mind after I’d fled Simon’s office earlier, still reeling from his parting words.
The next time I kiss you, it won’t be a performance, and I won’t hold back.
I’d walked to my desk in a daze, speechless for perhaps the first time in my life.
I’d spent all day yesterday trying to wrap my head around the impossible task ahead of me—pretending to date my boss while harboring very real feelings for him. When I’d arrived at the office this morning, that challenge had still felt insurmountable. I couldn’t stop replaying that kiss or shake the disappointment that had crashed over me when I realized it was nothing more than a performance for Alexander’s benefit.
I’d never been good at hiding my emotions, so it wasn’t surprising that Simon had noticed something was off immediately. Still, I’d tried to deny it, clinging to annoyance and my professional training like armor so I wouldn’t reveal the truth—that I’d wanted that fierce, consuming kiss to mean something.
But the truth had slipped out anyway. I just never expected him to look pleased about it.
Now it was mid-afternoon, and I was taking a break at my desk. There was a breakroom down the hall but I preferred to stay here. My cushioned office chair was far more comfortable than those plastic ones.
And maybe—just maybe—I liked being available in case Simon needed anything.
I had my sketchbook open, a graphite pencil moving across the page in careful strokes. I didn’t have many hobbies, but drawing had been part of my life since I was a teenager. My first sketchbook had been filled with still lifes, landscapes, animals, anything that caught my eye.
Eventually, I’d discovered that my true talent lay in portraits. People were what I drew mostly now, especially those I knew well. It was easier to capture someone’s essence when you understood them, when you could translate onto paper the spark in their eyes or the particular way they smiled.
My entire focus narrowed to the page in front of me. I rubbed my finger along the pencil marks, blending the lines to create a shadow along the curve of my subject’s neck. I was so absorbed in my creative process that I didn’t hear footsteps or even sense anyone approaching until Simon was right behind me, peering over my shoulder.
“Who is that?” he asked.
I jolted in my chair at the sound of his deep, masculine voice, the pencil slipping from my fingers and clattering to the floor.
“You scared me!” I pressed a hand to my chest as I spun around in my chair to face him, glaring up at his infuriatingly smug expression. Amusement danced in his green eyes—a look I rarely saw on Simon. Most days, his face was all sharp edges and stern professionalism, making this fleeting glimpse of genuine humor feel unexpectedly disarming.