Chapter 6 Six
Antonia Adams walked a step behind Kennedy as they entered the restaurant, hyperaware of everything—her posture, her breathing, the faint scent of his cologne that seemed to trail behind him like a quiet promise. He spoke briefly to the hostess, his voice calm and confident, and within seconds they were being led to a secluded table near the window.
He pulled out her chair.
The simple gesture caught her off guard.
“Oh—thank you,” she said, lowering herself into the seat a little too stiffly.
Kennedy took the chair opposite her, movements controlled, deliberate. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched—not uncomfortable exactly, but thick with awareness.
Antonia folded her hands in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting. Relax. It’s just dinner, she told herself for the hundredth time. Not a date. Definitely not a date. You’re sitting across from your boss.
Her boss, who looked unfairly good with his sleeves rolled up, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw catching the soft light.
She cleared her throat. “So… um. This place is nice.”
She said glancing around the restaurant—it was elegant, understated. The kind of place people came to talk. Or confess. Or make decisions that changed things.
He glanced around with her, then back at her. “I come here often. It’s quiet. Good food. No interruptions.”
That made sense, she supposed. Everything about Kennedy Walton screamed controlled environment.
A waiter arrived, menus were handed out, water poured. Antonia pretended to study the menu even though she couldn’t focus on a single word. Her mind kept circling the same question.
Why am I here?
Kennedy noticed her nervousness. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t ask if she was uncomfortable. Instead, he did something unexpected.
He smiled.
Not the brief, restrained curve of his mouth she’d seen at the office—but something softer. Real.
“You can relax,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to interrogate you.”
Her lips twitched despite herself. “Good. Because I’m terrible under pressure.”
“I’ve noticed,” he replied, dry amusement threading his voice.
She laughed—an actual laugh—and the tension eased just a little.
Conversation drifted into safer territory after that. Work, mostly. He asked how she was settling in, whether the workload was manageable. She spoke about learning the systems, about Sarah’s relentless chatter, about trying not to feel like she was constantly one mistake away from disaster.
He listened. Really listened.
When she mentioned her sister, his attention sharpened.
“You live with her?” he asked.
“For now,” Antonia said. “She and her husband took me in. Temporary arrangement. Until I get back on my feet.”
He nodded once, eyes thoughtful. “Family matters.”
Something in his tone made her pause. “You’re close to yours?”
“My mother,” he said. “Very.”
There was something unsaid there, hanging between them.
The food arrived. Antonia barely noticed what she ordered until she tasted it—rich, comforting, grounding. She realized, with a quiet surprise, that she was enjoying herself.
Too much.
At one point, she said something sarcastic about office coffee being a form of punishment, and Kennedy laughed. Not a chuckle. A real laugh.
The sound startled her.
She stared at him openly this time, unguarded. He caught her looking and raised a brow.
“What?”
“I just…” she hesitated, then shrugged. “You don’t seem like the laughing type.”
His smile faded slightly. “I used to be.”
The words settled heavily.
“I was married,” he added after a beat.
“Oh.” Antonia’s voice softened. “I’m sorry.”
“She passed away,” he said simply.
Her heart squeezed. “I didn’t know.”
“Not many people do. I don’t talk about it.”
They fell quiet again, but this time the silence felt different. More intimate. More fragile.
Their hands brushed when they both reached for the water at the same time.
Antonia’s breath caught.
Kennedy stilled too, fingers grazing hers for half a second longer than necessary before he withdrew. Their eyes met, something unspoken flickering between them.
Dangerous.
He leaned back, breaking the moment, his expression closing off slightly as though he’d caught himself stepping somewhere he shouldn’t.
Then, unexpectedly, he asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”
Antonia choked on her water.
“I—what?”
He watched her carefully now, his gaze sharp, assessing. “A relationship. Are you in one?”
Her mind reeled. Is my boss… interested in me? Is he going to ask me out?
Am I dreaming? What's actually going on here? The thought sent a rush of disbelief through her.
“No,” she said quickly. “I’m not.”
“Good,” he said.
The word landed heavier than it should have.
She stared at him. “Good?”
Kennedy inhaled slowly, then set his cutlery aside with deliberate care. When he spoke again, his voice was all business.
“I need a favor.”
Her pulse spiked. There it is.
“My mother believes I’m engaged,” he continued calmly. “She’s visiting this weekend. She expects to meet my fiancée.”
Antonia blinked. Once. Twice.
“…Your fiancée.”
“Yes.”
“And… you’re telling me this because…?”
“Because I want you to pretend to be her.”
The world tilted.
“You want me to—what?”
“One weekend,” he said smoothly. “Attend dinner. Smile. Play the role. Nothing more.”
She laughed, sharp and incredulous. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not.”
Her heart hammered. “That’s insane. Completely inappropriate. You’re my boss.”
“I’m aware.”
She pushed back her chair slightly, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
He studied her for a moment, then said, “I’d compensate you.”
Her brows furrowed. “Compensate?”
“A bonus. Financial support if you need it. And…” his gaze sharpened, “job security.”
Her stomach dropped. “Is that a threat?”
“No,” he said calmly. “It’s an assurance.”
She stood. “I can’t do this.”
Kennedy didn’t rise. He simply looked up at her. “You broke my car.”
She froze.
“You owe me, you said it yourself.” he added evenly.
Silence stretched between them, thick and charged.
Her hands trembled at her sides. “That’s not fair.”
“Life rarely is.”
She stared at him, anger and confusion swirling together. Then, slowly, she sat back down.
“I need time, to think,” she said tightly. “One night. That’s all.”
He nodded once. “Fair, but no one can know,” he said firmly.
Her lips curved slightly. “Fine.”
They stood together and left the restaurant, the city lights blurring around them.
As Kennedy drove her home, Antonia stared out the window, heart racing.
One weekend.
One lie.
Shouldn't be so hard, right?