24

The clock on the wall ticks down another minute. Four forty-five now.

“I can’t take this.” I mutter to myself and stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder, tapping the screen on my desktop, and leaving the office.

Brett startles. I’m rarely out before five thirty and always give him a heads-up if I’m planning it.

“Take an early day,” I say, passing him. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for all your work while I was gone.”

He stutters out a thanks as I jab at the elevator button, trying to fight back a slowly blossoming headache. I want to go home and have a drink—something dark and smokey—but what I really need is probably water and a good rest.

The elevator lights up and stops on the fifth floor. My heart starts pounding in my chest, and as the doors open, it’s almost as if fate intervenes. Mel is standing in the foyer. Our eyes meet and she blushes, but we’re not alone. Her assistant, Adrian Kenny, raises a brow.

“I’ll take the stairs, Mel. Have a good rest of your night.” Adrian disappears and Mel steps into the elevator, giving me a shy smile. “Long day?”

“You have no idea.”

She probably thinks I mean catching up on endless backlogs of work and meeting after meeting. But I spent most of the day thinking and worrying about her—about us. It’s comfortable standing here with her at my side, and I’m just starting to work up the courage to ask what her plan is after this whole fiasco is over when we hit the ground floor.

The doors open. I gesture for Mel to step out. We’re making our way toward the front entrance when a familiar figure slinks out from the café area.

“Zach.”

He looks fake-surprised and blinks one too many times. Mel steps a little closer to me, her fingers finding mine.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Zach doesn’t react to the flat, borderline threatening tone I use. Instead he pastes on a smile and drags his eyes over Mel, right down to her toes. I fight the urge to shift her behind me and instead, continue to stare him down.

“Yes. Right—HR called me this morning. It seems there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Hot anger runs through my veins. Not only because Zach is blatantly checking out the woman he knows is my fiancé, but because he’s here. In the same building as the woman—women, really—that he’s been harassing. God forbid she come down to the lobby right now and see him.

“You need to leave and not come back unless this is cleared up.”

“Whenit’s cleared up, you mean.” His smile only widens, curling like the Cheshire cat’s. “I’m sure Roy will step in and reassure HR that nothing untoward ever happened.”

The odd thing is, he does seem sure. Only I know Roy Dupont well enough to know that in this scenario, he’ll step back and let Giselle and the HR team do their jobs. BecauseRoyknowsZachwell enough to know there might be some truth behind the accusation.

I, for one, don’t doubt the woman at all.

“Melissa,” Zach says, turning his attention to her, “we never got to meet up for dinner at the Loraine. Now that we’re both back in town, maybe you can make some time.” His eyes flick down to her bare legs where the hem of her skirt tickles her knees.

“I’m going to be a little busy with planning the wedding. Sorry.”

But Mel doesn’t sound sorry at all. Her voice is strong and cold, like iron. I almost look at her in surprise at the mention of the wedding—what our fake engagement would naturally lead to, except that both she and I know it’ll all end before we get there.

“Mmm.” Zach’s grin suddenly dims. “Of course. Well, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you two around. Sooner, rather than later.”

In court, most likely, I want to say as he saunters off. Once he’s gone I gesture for a security guard and fill him in on the situation. “He’s not to come back into the building until he’s cleared.”

The guard nods seriously and steps away to speak into his two-way radio. A few years ago, Zach was a rare sight around here. He mostly spent his mom’s, and Roy’s, money traveling around the world. Amsterdam, France, some part of northern Europe where Roy had to pull a few strings and get him safely back to the US. But these days, he’s around enough that the guards know him by sight. That worries me. It means he’s making a real effort at obtaining the company.

“That was…a lot.”

Mel looks a little stressed. We walk out front and step off to the side as pedestrians go by, a curious dog sniffing at my trousers, a guy on a bike whizzing past.

“It’s only going to get worse.”

She bites her lip, looking up at me through her lashes. “Jason, Adrian said today that Zach has been asking around about us. I think he might know…”

She trails off, not saying,This isn’t real. It shouldn’t be a relief, because itisn’treal. But so much of me wants it to be.

I let out a long, slow exhale. “We’ll just have to stick to our guns. Roy’s retirement party is in a month, and I doubt this whole thing with Zach will be cleared up by then. I just got word earlier that the woman involved is considering taking it to court. And I’m sure she’ll find quite a few supporters and corroborators among the staff.”

Mel looks both relieved and worried. We’re still holding hands, and she squeezes mine reassuringly.

“Hey. Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” I deadpan. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

When I meet Mel’s gaze, she’s grinning. “You’re not jealous, Jason, are you? No one likes a jealous fiancé.” She purrs the last line, standing on tiptoe to place a kiss on my jaw. I take another deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and the stirring in my boxer briefs. The last thing I need right now is to be seen backing Mel up against Dupont Analytics’ building and ravaging her right here in public. But with adrenaline coursing through my veins, it’s hard to see the logic in that denial.

“Dinner,” I say. “Tomorrow.”

Mel raises a brow. “That’s a blunt way of asking a girl out on a date. You used to be better at this, Jason.”

I’m sure she doesn’t mean it as a warning, but her words cool my head anyway. “Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?” “What did you have in mind? I’m guessing you’d want to make it pretty public—”

“Wherever you want.” I can’t stress that enough. I’d take her to a hot dog stand in the middle of the park. I’d Lady-and-the-Tramp it out back of an Italian restaurant if she wants.

She purses her lips together, considering much more than dinner, I think. And then the corner of her mouth lifts.

“Know any good diners around town?” Melissa

The end of the week finally comes, and despite the chaos of getting back into the groove at work, I’m riding a high. Literally humming as I step out of the apartment Saturday morning and decide to head into the city for some retail therapy.

I don’t need anything in particular, but lately my wardrobe seems…boring. I’m not really a material girl, and I always invest in well-made clothes, but all of a sudden, I have the urge to buy a few new pieces. Maybe some heels? Maybe a new skirt, or some of those skintight pants I see fashionable women wearing on the streets…

It’s definitely not to catch Jason’s eye.

I bat the thought away; of course it’s not. What’s the point of impressing someone who’s already your fake fiancé? And who has seen you in embarrassing gym shorts in high school.

Still, I have to admit that earlier in the week, I’d agonized over what to wear to dinner. Jason was true to his word and took me to a hole-in-the-wall diner with crappy coffee and stacks upon stacks of pancakes. He got his usual—a Banker’s Plate, piled high with two of everything—while I dug into the sweets. Texas French toast, a tall glass of OJ, and a blueberry muffin on the side.

It was…good. More than good.