Chapter 30 Apparently, I’m the villain today

Chapter 30 Apparently, I’m the villain today
Marilyn 

“What’s going on here?” Dante asked again, stepping closer to where I sat.

The secretary froze. “Sir… she—she—”

Before she could finish, Dante reached for me, helped me stand, and pressed a quick kiss to my lips.

I wasn’t expecting it, but my body reacted before my mind did—I leaned into it.

When he pulled back, I caught the way the secretary’s face turned crimson, anger and embarrassment fighting for dominance.

Dante looked past her. A few employees were still peeking around corners and over monitors like pigeons waiting for crumbs.

“Get back to work,” he thundered.

Chairs scraped, heads ducked, and everyone scattered.

He turned back to the secretary. His voice dropped, colder.

“If I have to repeat myself a third time, I’m kicking you out.”

Her eyes widened. “S-sir, she came here saying she wanted to see you without any prior notice or appointment, so I told her to leave.”

“Why didn’t you call to confirm?” Dante asked, his tone sharp enough to cut.

“Well… I… it slipped my mind.” she stammered.

“Clear your desk—”

“Please don’t.”

I caught his arm before the sentence could land fully.

He paused. I looked up at him. “Can we talk in your office?”

Dante held my gaze for a moment, then looked at the secretary again—disappointment was written all over his face, even in the silence.

He took my hand and led me down the hall. Once we stepped into his office and the door shut behind us, he let go and turned me to face him.

Dante cupped my elbows lightly, eyes scanning my face.

“Are you alright?”

I nodded, but my brain registered something else—how close he was.

Close enough that I could feel his breath.

Close enough that my heart needed a second to catch up.

I cleared my throat and took a small step back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. “And if you plan on firing her… please don’t.”

His brows pulled together immediately. “Why not? She disrespected you.”

“I don’t want you firing her because of me.”

“I’m not firing her because of you,” he said. “She was incompetent.”

“Still,” I insisted. “It would be because of me. And that’ll turn into more rumors online. I can’t handle another round of nonsense this morning.”

I rolled my eyes as I lowered myself onto the nearest seat.

Dante frowned at that and sat opposite me, dragging his chair closer.

“What do you mean more this morning?”

“Well,” I said, leaning back a little, “I went for the first interview I had this morning, and I saw Trisha there.”

Dante’s brows pulled together. He clearly had no idea who that was.

“Tom’s new fiancée,” I added.

“Oh.”

“And they signed her instead of me.” I couldn’t hide the flat annoyance in my voice.

“What company is that?” he asked. “There are so many incompetent people these days.”

“Apparently,” I said, rubbing my forehead, “Trisha showed them some photos. Private photos. Ones I sent Tom when we were still together.”

Dante’s eyes widened.

“They were edited,” I said quickly. “I never felt comfortable sending him anything like that, so I Photoshopped my face on someone else’s body. He always insisted I send something when we weren’t together, so I… found a workaround.”

Dante stayed silent for a long moment.

“Somehow she found them,” I continued. “Now she’s showing them around, and I’m afraid to go to the rest of the meetings I have today. I don’t know how far this has gone.”

He pushed to his feet. “Why not let me fire him and end all this madness?”

I stood too, stopping him. “No. That’ll only give people more things to talk about. Just like firing your secretary out there would’ve been blamed on me. If you fire Tom, rumors will spread again because of me. I need to fix my image first.”

His brows pulled together. He didn’t like her logic, but he understood it.

“If you fire Tom,” I said, “it won’t look like justice. It’ll look like I ran to my… boyfriend… to fix my problems. That would destroy the whole point of trying to look stable right now.”

Dante exhaled through his nose. “Fine. Then what do you suggest we do?”

I shifted my weight, rubbing my palms together because suddenly the office felt too warm. “Actually… I don’t know,” I said, and my voice sounded smaller than I meant it to. “I came here with the intent to do something with you. Maybe act cute or whatever helps this whole thing look real.”

I gave a half-shrug. Embarrassed. Annoyed at myself for even feeling embarrassed. “I thought it would wrap things up. Or smooth things out. I don’t know.”

A breath slipped out of me.

“But now? No. I don’t want to do anything around your workplace anymore. Everything feels… louder here.” My gaze flicked to the door, where people had been shamelessly peeking seconds ago. “It’s just causing chaos. And this is your office, Dante. It shouldn’t get dragged into our arrangement. So now I really don’t know what to do next.”

I paused, trying to get my thoughts under control, but another one hit me before I could shove it down.

I turned to him fully.

“Also,” I said slowly, “how many more girls should I be wary of?”

Dante blinked like I’d spoken in another language. Confusion written all over his face.

I groaned and clarified, “I mean—almost every woman I’ve come across and is remotely connected to your life… aside from your mother… has some weird beef with me. Or attitude. Or glare. Or tone. So”—I pointed vaguely toward the hall—“how many more should I mentally prepare myself to face?”

He opened his mouth, still partly baffled, and I stood there waiting, already bracing for whatever explanation he had.

“Marilyn,” he said finally, leaning one shoulder against his desk, “none of those women have anything to do with you. They’re just… nosy. Or dramatic. Or looking for something to whisper about.” He gave a half-smirk. “Working with me tends to attract unnecessary chaos. You didn’t cause anything.”

The way he said it in a steady, low, and annoyingly sincere way, sent an unexpected warmth through my chest. I looked away before he noticed.

He stepped a little closer, not enough to crowd me, but enough that I felt the shift in space. Enough that my pulse reacted before my brain did.

“And for the record,” he added, voice softening, “there aren’t any other girls you need to be wary of.”

I rolled my eyes. “It feels like you’re lying.”

He laughed quietly under his breath. “If I were lying, you’d know.” He held my gaze, and there was something there—something warm, steady, grounding. “You’re safe around me.”

My stomach fluttered in a way I did not approve of.

Dante cleared his throat first, like he felt it too, breaking the moment just slightly. “Look… today has clearly been hell for you.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“So,” he said, straightening, “how do you feel about me taking you out shopping? Would that lift your mood? And maybe we’ll grab lunch after.”

I stared at him. Hard.

“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I don’t think that’s necessary since it’s not part of the arrangement.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” His tone was gentle but firm. “It’s just me doing something nice. And I think we’ve come to a point where we can call ourselves… friends.”

Friends.

Right. Sure. Whatever this weird fake-real tension thing was.

I studied him, suspicious. “You’re using your debit card… right?”

Dante’s lips twitched into a smile. “Of course.”

I exhaled and pushed myself off the chair. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He grabbed his coat. I pretended my pulse didn’t react to that either.