Chapter 89

The way he had looked at me–calm, unreadable, then cold–like I’d overstepped just by standing there. When he mocked me for being concerned about “gossip,” I knew it wasn’t just teasing. He was reminding me of where I stood. Of who he was. Of who I wasn’t.

I’d heard that tone before. It was the same one I’d heard from strangers at the golf club that day–right before the headlines called me a gold–digger, before whispers claimed I wore that dress just to seduce my boss. I thought I’d survived that storm. But maybe I hadn’t. Maybe I’d just dressed the wounds prettier.

The difference was, this time the voice was his.

I had no words to offer him that wouldn’t sound desperate. So

I’d laughed awkwardly, pathetically–and muttered that I’d

overthought it. Then I excused myself like the fool who walked

into the wrong room and thought she belonged.

When I passed Mike in the hallway, he looked up from his

tablet and tried to smile. “Don’t take it personally. He’s… not

great at expressing himself”

I managed a stiff smile, clutching my bag tighter. “It’s fine. I just

remembered I left something on the stove.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t cook”


I laughed once under my breath and shrugged. “Just

sometimes.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I just left.

The elevator ride down was quiet. Still. And when I stepped out

into the open air, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even sad. I was just… embarrassed.

changed into the comfiest sweatshirt I owned and sat cross–legged on the couch, staring

wasn’t that I had feelings for Alexander. I

of man people

you stood

along the way–between

way he stood

the Windsors–I’d started to

I could trust him, Like he might see me as


temporary assistant trying

footing.

that

confused gratitude

me. But that didn’t

to touch. And I–no matter how steady I looked–was still someone pulling herself together, still trying not to flinch every time

if

quickly

of it was

deeper into the couch, exhaling through

illusions. No more lines

my boss. And I’m supposed to stay at

distance from Alexander.


The Next Day

picking at my

sautéed greens I didn’t really want–when my

rang.

Mike.

seeing his name made my stomach clench. I wiped

picked up.

greeted, unusually polite. “Are you busy

evening?”

barely touched

particularly. Why?”

a pause, long enough for me to sense that this wasn’t just a friendly check–in. With Mike,

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