Chapter 2 - I crossed my arms, trying to seem more confident than I felt.
“But you confirmed it anyway.”
“You seemed to need an out.”
I shrugged as if lying to my boss’s model ex-girlfriend were something I did regularly.
“So you saved me?”
There was something in his tone. Teasing, but also genuinely curious.
“I saved your lunch. You always eat at your desk while working anyway. It would have been a waste of time to go to a restaurant just to be looked at with puppy-dog eyes by an ex who clearly doesn’t understand the concept of a breakup.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. Not that polite sound he used in meetings, but a genuine laugh that made something strange happen in my chest.
“Puppy-dog eyes?”
“She was practically begging. It was embarrassing to watch.”
The words came out more acidic than I intended.
“Jealous, Miss Summers?”
His eyes gleamed with amusement.
“Pity. For her lack of self-respect.”
I lied blatantly. We both knew it.
Elliot took a step toward me, and suddenly the office seemed smaller. The air denser.
“Thank you for the creativity,” he said. “And for the loyalty disguised as professionalism.”
The way he said it, low and almost intimate, made my stomach flip. There were only a few inches between us, and I could feel the heat coming from him, the subtle scent of expensive cologne mixed with something that was just him.
“It’s my job to keep your schedule organized,” I managed, my voice weaker than I wanted.
“Is it your job to save me from unwanted lunches?”
His smile grew.
“It’s in the job description. In small print.”
We stood there very close, looking at each other in a way that definitely crossed professional boundaries, until the phone on his desk rang and broke the moment. Elliot stepped back, answering with the professional tone he reserved for important calls.
I left the office with slightly trembling legs.
The following days brought a systematic intensification of Elliot’s teasing, and my sanity began to show signs of wear. Every interaction came loaded with double meanings and prolonged looks that left me questioning whether I was imagining things or whether something was really happening between us.
“Alexia, seen any interesting posters today?” he asked casually during a contract review without even looking up from the document.
“Mr. Hawkins—”
“Elliot,” he corrected, now looking at me with that annoying smile. “We’ve already established we’re on a 1st-name basis after the incident.”
“There was no incident. There was a temporary moment of insanity caused by overwork.”
“It lasted 5 seconds. I counted. That’s more than a moment. That’s commitment.”
I wanted to throw something at him, preferably something heavy, but instead I forced a professional smile and turned back to the contracts as if my heart was not racing ridiculously.
On Friday, when I was starting to think maybe the week would end without more drama, Sienna came back.
This time, she was not alone. She brought reinforcements in the form of 2 other equally stunning models, all wearing the kind of casual clothing that somehow looked as if it had come off a runway and cost more than my car.
They invaded reception like a squad of perfumed, perfectly made-up attackers.
“Elliot.”
Sienna practically sang his name as she marched straight to his office.
“We need to talk about the charity event tomorrow night.”
I looked up from the reports I was reviewing, my stomach sinking as I saw the way she threw herself into the chair across from his desk like she had every right to be there.
“Sienna,” Elliot said.
Even without being able to hear through the glass, I could tell from his body language that he was irritated by the interruption.
“I’m busy.”
“It’ll take 2 minutes, I promise.”
She gestured to her friends, who strategically positioned themselves around the room as if surrounding prey.
“The charity event tomorrow night. You need a date, and we thought you could choose. Maya here is absurdly photogenic, and Ashley has connections with Vogue.”
They were literally offering date options as if he were choosing from a menu, and I felt something unpleasant and hot coil in my stomach.
It was none of my business. Elliot could go out with whoever he wanted. He was a single grown man with the right to a personal life that definitely did not include me, despite all the teasing of the past week.
But it still hurt in a way it should not have.
“I’m going alone,” Elliot said, his voice cold in a way I recognized as the tone he used when losing patience.
“Nonsense. A man like you can’t show up alone at a charity event. You’ll look sad.”
Sienna tilted her head with that practiced movement.
“Pick any of us. Or all of us, if you prefer. We can make a photogenic trio.”
That was when Elliot did something that made me choke on the coffee I had just brought to my mouth.
He looked directly at me through the glass, our eyes meeting for 1 charged second, before he turned back to Sienna with an expression I could not decipher.
“I already have a date.”
Sienna blinked, clearly not expecting the answer.
“You do? Who?”
“Miss Summers is going with me.”
The silence that followed was so absolute I could hear my own heart beating in my ears. All heads turned in my direction, and I sat there paralyzed, coffee cup still suspended in the air, because my brain had stopped functioning.
Elliot stood and went to the office door, calling me with a gesture that left no room for questioning.
“Alexia, you’re going with me to the charity event tomorrow. Correct?”
I should have said no. Any rational person would have said no because this was clearly him using me as a shield against insistent ex-girlfriends, and putting me in the middle of that was a recipe for disaster.
But the way he looked at me, with that silent challenge in his green eyes, as if testing whether I would back down, made the words come out before I could think better of them.
“Of course I am.”
My voice came out firmer than expected, considering I was having an existential crisis internally.
Sienna stood so quickly she almost knocked over the chair, her friends following in a synchronized movement of expensive heels against marble.
“How convenient,” she said, her tone dripping poorly disguised venom. “The assistant. How original, Elliot.”
“Good afternoon, Sienna.”
His voice was cold and final, a clear dismissal that left no room for argument.
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and silent indignation. As soon as the sound of heels disappeared down the hallway, I got up and marched straight into his office with all the anger accumulated from the past week of teasing.
“Why did you do that?” I demanded as soon as I closed the door behind me.
“I needed an out.”
He said it simply, as if using employees as shields against ex-girlfriends were perfectly acceptable.
“And you used me without asking first?”
“You could have said no.”
He leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed while I was practically vibrating with frustration.
“But you didn’t.”
“Because you put me in an impossible position in front of them. Now I have to go to the charity event as your fake date just to maintain the whole charade.”
“Consider it payback. You saved me from lunch with Sienna. Now you save me from an entire event.”
The corner of his mouth curved in that annoying half smile.
“This is completely different. A lunch is 2 hours. A charity event is the entire evening.”
“Problem?”
The tone was provocative, challenging.
“I don’t have appropriate clothing. Charity events require gala dresses, and I work 70 hours a week for a boss who apparently doesn’t understand professional boundaries. When exactly would I have time to buy a $3,000 dress?”
“Buy one. The company pays.”
He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“Elliot, it’s a work event.”
“Technically.”
There was something in the way he looked at me now that made my irritation waver.
“And I genuinely need a date. I’d prefer it to be you.”
The words hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning neither of us seemed ready to unpack.
He was smiling. That small, satisfied smile that said he knew exactly the effect he was having on me.
“You enjoyed irritating them,” I suddenly realized, seeing the way his eyes gleamed. “Sending Sienna and her friends away with sour faces.”
“Maybe.”
He did not deny it.
“Why?”
The question came out softer than I intended.
He did not answer immediately. He just looked at me for a long moment, as if deciding how much to reveal.
“Friday. 7:00 p.m. I’ll pick you up. Elliot…”
“Wear something blue. It suits you.”
Then he turned his attention back to the documents on his desk as if the conversation were over, leaving me standing there processing the fact that I apparently had a fake date with my boss in less than 24 hours.
Jade nearly had a heart attack when I told her during lunch.
“He invited you to the gala?”
She was practically shouting in the middle of the restaurant, making people at nearby tables look in our direction.
“He used me as a shield against his ex and her friends,” I corrected, though the words sounded less convincing now than they had when I had told myself the same thing for the 10th time that morning.
“Or he used it as an opportunity to go out with you without admitting he wants to.”
Jade looked at me with the I know something you don’t know expression she used when she was right.
“He doesn’t want to go out with me. He teases me. There’s a difference.”
“Alexia, listen to yourself. Men don’t invent fake dates with women they’re not interested in, especially men like Elliot Hawkins, who could have any woman in New York with a snap of his fingers.”
“It’s work. He said it’s a work event.”
“And he told you to wear blue because it suits you. That’s romantic, not professional.”
She grabbed my phone from the table.
“We’re going dress shopping now. If you’re going to be his shield, you’re going to be the most beautiful shield he has ever had.”
Two hours and 5 stores later, we found the dress.
Navy blue, as he had suggested. Elegant, but with a touch of sexy that did not cross the line of appropriate. A V-neck that showed enough without being excessive. A cut that hugged the curves I usually hid beneath conservative suits. A side slit that went up to mid-thigh.
“You look stunning,” Jade said when I stepped out of the fitting room.
For the 1st time in years, I actually felt beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with makeup or hair and everything to do with how the dress made me feel powerful.
“Is it too much?” I asked, uncertain.
“It’s perfect. Elliot’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you.”
She smiled mischievously.
“And Sienna’s going to die of envy, which is an excellent bonus.”
I bought the dress using the corporate card Elliot had insisted I take, along with shoes and a tiny clutch Jade swore was absolutely necessary. The total bill made my stomach turn, but I reminded myself that Elliot had said the company would pay, and technically it was a work event.
Even though every fiber of my being was screaming that this was anything but professional.
That night, Marcus found Elliot still in the office reviewing contracts, even though it was almost 9:00.
“You invited Alexia to the gala,” Marcus said without preamble, closing the door behind him.
“As a shield against Sienna,” Elliot replied without looking up from the documents.
“Lie. And we both know it.”
Marcus sat in the chair across from the desk and crossed his arms.
“Excuse me?”
Elliot finally looked up.
“Elliot, I’ve known you for 10 years. You’re interested in her. Admit it.”
“She’s my assistant.”
“So?”
Marcus tilted his head.
“Since when do you avoid complications? You build media empires from scratch. You’re not afraid of risk.”
“This is different.”
“It’s personal. That’s why it scares you.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“You haven’t stopped looking at her all week. During meetings, presentations, even when she’s just sitting at her desk working. And they’re not professional looks.”
Elliot ran his hand through his hair, messing up the usual perfection.
“She kissed my poster.”
“And you can’t forget it. Exactly my point.”
Marcus smiled.
“You’re interested. Maybe more than interested. And you’re using the gala as an excuse to have her close without admitting you want to.”
The silence that followed was admission enough. Elliot turned his attention back to the contracts, but Marcus knew he had hit the target when he saw the small half smile playing on his friend’s lips.
“Wear something blue. It suits you,” Marcus repeated. “That’s not a boss-to-assistant comment, my friend. That’s an interested man to a woman.”
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“Shut up and go home,” Elliot murmured, but he was really smiling now.
Marcus left knowing his work was done, leaving Elliot alone with thoughts about brown hair, eyes that challenged him even when they were nervous, and a blue dress he had not seen yet but already knew would completely ruin his composure.
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