“According to my source, you were not dressed for a meeting. You were wearing a fuck-me dress, you had your hair down, and there was a lot of careful touching going on.”
I’d sighed and said, “It wasn’t a fuck-me dress.”
“Is he a good kisser?”
“How would I know?”
Hanna had pouted. “Fine. Be that way. But I’m watching you two from here on out.”
When I later told Dane about it, he’d seemed pleased that word of our “secret relationship” was beginning to spread around the teams. I wasn’t so pleased, because eventually I’d have to deal with sneers and people accusing me of sleeping with my boss to get a raise or something. But I’d known in advance that it would happen, I’d metaphorically signed up for it, and I’d deal with it when the time came.
As the days went on, though, the workforce seemed mostly excited at the idea that “Dane’s fallen for one of our own” instead of a socialite, heiress, or model. Oh, there was some general pettiness from a few women, but I’d expected that. I’d overlook it so long as they didn’t start mouthing off. Hopefully people’s fear of Dane would keep them on their best behavior.
When Saturday came around, he and I went on a third date. It was basically just a repeat of the previous two—posh restaurant, small but possessive touches, lots of eyes on us.
At work Monday morning, it was business as usual. I’d originally worried that the fake-dating lark would in some way bleed over onto our workplace dynamics, but it seemed that we both managed to compartmentalize everything just fine.
I was halfway through the process of sending some outbound emails when the office phone rang. Honestly, it rang so many times throughout the day, there’d been occasions when I’d woken at night, convinced I could hear it.
I lifted the receiver and said, “Good morning, you’ve rea—”
“Dane Davenport?” a familiar voice clipped. “That’s the guy you’re seeing? Dane Davenport?”
I balled up my hand. “I’m working, Owen.”
“For a guy you’re also dating, right?”
“What gave you that idea?” I asked airily.
“My boss saw you both having dinner on Saturday night. He said you looked real cozy.”
“Dane and I often attend business dinners together.”
“Don’t try to blow me off, Vee. Jesus, I can’t believe you’re with Davenport. It doesn’t make sense. You’d never be so unprofessional as to sleep with your boss.”
No, I wouldn’t. I’d simply have fun imagining it. Lots and lots of fun.
“He doesn’t do relationships, Vee. Maybe he’ll offer you a fling, but that’s it. You’re worth more. If he doesn’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?”
He sighed. “No. I let you down. But don’t you think we’ve both paid for my mistake long enough?”
I frowned. “You seem to have this insane idea that I’ve been holding a candle for you all these years.”
“You loved me, Vee. You loved me enough to wear my ring. I think a part of you still does, even though you might not want to.”
“You’re wrong. Even if I wasn’t happy with someone else, I wouldn’t go back to you. Not ever. Don’t call me again.” I placed down the receiver.
“Problem?” a voice asked from behind.
My pulse spiked, but I managed not to jump. Slowly turning to face Dane, I folded my arms. “Just Owen.”
Dane twisted his mouth and then tipped his chin toward his office. Only once I’d followed him inside and closed the door did he speak again. “What did he want?”
“He called to ask if you’re the guy I told him I was seeing,” I replied. “His boss saw us together on Saturday, apparently.”
“And?”
“I didn’t confirm or deny we’re dating, but Owen seems sure we are. He doesn’t believe you’re serious about me, though. He thinks you’d only want a fling. He also can’t make sense of me doing something as unprofessional as sleeping with my boss.”
“Hmm.” Dane leaned back against his desk. “We’re going on another date this weekend.”
“Another restaurant?” I asked.
“No. This time, you’re going as my plus-one to a charity ball. Not as my PA, as my official date.”
I lifted my brows. “So, we’re ‘coming out,’ so to speak?”
“Yes. People at the event will ask questions, especially my brothers. We’ll tell them that we’ve been a couple for a few months. I don’t want them thinking we’re idly dating. I want them to believe this is serious. So make sure you put on your best acting hat on Saturday at the gala—we’ll have a hell of a show to put on.”
Chapter Five
Butterflies frantically took wing in my stomach as we entered the ballroom of the opulent hotel. It was truly beautiful with vaulted ceilings, marble flooring, sparkling chandeliers, and intricate crown molding on the walls.
Thick, scarlet drapes framed the pretty French windows. A spiral staircase led to a second level, where I could just make out a few tables and chairs. I wondered if that was where they’d be holding the gala’s dinner and auction.