Head Over Heels

1

Florence

"Is there anything else, ma'am?" Jason Bakker shifts in his seat, his fingers tightening around his pen. He looks nervous.

I tap a manicured nail against my desk. "In a hurry, Mr. Bakker?"

He squares his shoulders, but the flicker of unease in his eyes remains. "My daughter's first meet starts in half an hour. I was hoping to get there on time to watch."

For a moment, I let the silence stretch—just long enough for him to wonder if I'll say no. I give a slow, deliberate nod. "I have a few last-minute things to go over with Richard about the fundraiser, but we don't need you for that." I glance at Richard. "Do you need anything from him before he goes?"

"No, ma'am."

Another beat of silence. Jason shifts. I finally nod. "Go. If anything comes up, I'll email you."

He exhales, a hint of relief flickering across his face. "Thank you, ma'am." He's careful to keep it professional, but there's the faintest hint of a smile as he heads for the door.

Of my C-Suite, I like Jason the best. He has balls, and he's not afraid to speak up when he has something to say. He's a hard worker. He's smart.

A few months ago, he had the gall to bring me his resignation letter because he was missing too much time with his kids. We negotiated an arrangement where he still puts in the hours, but he can do some of them at home after the kids are in bed. I can't imagine his wife is happy with that, but that's not my concern.

I push the thought away and turn to Richard, pulling my auburn hair off my shoulders. "Where are we with the fundraising gala for the new research lab?"

He pulls his chair closer, angling his laptop toward me. "The team is almost finished nailing down the details. They're under budget, since the venue is offering the evening at a discounted rate."

"I don't want the discount." I fight the urge to sigh. "We pay them the full rate. If we don't, service will be subpar, and that's unacceptable for an event this high profile." He should know that.

"Yes, ma'am." He leans in, his leg brushing against mine.

I go still.

Not again.

Straightening, I shift away—just enough to make it clear. But no—he has to push it further. I should have known better than to be alone in a room with this pig. This isn't the first time he's tried to push it. "I think that's all for today. Do you have anything else for me?"

He closes his laptop and turns toward me, his expression smug. "You'll need a plus-one for this event. I don't have a date yet, if you'd care to join me?"

I exhale slowly, forcing myself not to overreact. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll pass."

He doesn't take the hint. He never does. "Do you already have a date?" he pushes.

"I do." It slips out before I can stop it. A defense against men who won't take no for an answer. My go-to shield.

I should be above using it by now.

He lifts an eyebrow, smirking. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"Not that it's any of your business." I hold his gaze, my voice steady. "My fiancée is a rather private person. She doesn't like the spotlight."

The moment the word comes out of my mouth, I kick myself.

What the hell was that?

I don't play games. I don't lie. Yet here I am, inventing an entire fucking relationship just to shut a man up. I'm better than this.

I thought I was better than this.

Richard's lips curl. "She?" He scoffs. "I have a hard time believing that."

I study him for a long moment, forcing myself to remain calm. "Believe what you will, Mr. Woodhouse. My private life is private, and it'll stay that way."

"You're too uptight, Florence." He leans in again, just enough to set my teeth on edge, before stepping back with a chuckle the grinds on my nerves. "You need a man to take care of you."

I count to ten.

Slowly.

Then look him dead in the eye. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. If I ever hear you speak like that again—to me or anyone else—you'll be looking for a new job."

His smirk falters.

Finally, he steps back. "Relax, Florence. I was just making conversation."

I don't respond.

Once the door shuts behind him, I let out a slow breath. I sink into my chair, fury and disappointment warring inside me. What the hell did I just do? I just invented a fictional partner because I couldn't handle one man who wouldn't take no for an answer. Not only a partner, but a fiancée.

I should have shut this down months ago. Documented every inappropriate comment. Built a case through proper channels. Instead, I just handed him an opening. A weakness.

Dammit.

My phone buzzes on the table.

Marin checking in.

I ignore it.

If this gets out— when this gets out—it could ruin my reputation. Everything I've built could crumble because of one moment of weakness.

Dammit.

I push through the last of my paperwork and head home. The moment I walk in the door, I pull Hettie's number up on my phone.

Do you have 0 minutes for a quick call?

A minute later, my phone rings.

"Hettie. Hey."

She laughs. "Ciao, bella. Why do you sound defeated?"

I exhale. "I need legal advice."

Her playful tone vanishes. "Did you do something illegal?"

This is one of the reasons I keep her close—she can flip from teasing sister to ruthless lawyer in a heartbeat.

"No. But I have a situation at work. I need to find a fiancée for next month's charity gala. Maybe for other events, too."

She chuckles. "There are lesbian dating apps, you know. Though getting a fiancée in a month might be a stretch."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't want a real fiancée. Is there anything illegal about paying someone to accompany me and act the part?"

She's quiet for a beat. "No… but why the sudden need? You go to these things without a date all the time."

I grab a beer from the fridge. "I lied to an employee. I told him I have a fiancée. He's been circling for weeks, and he wouldn't back off." I sigh. "It was reflex, Hettie. It just slipped out."

"You're the boss, Florence. Fire his ass."

I shake my head. "No. We were alone. It would turn into a he-said, she-said mess." I think about Jason, how we properly documented his schedule changes through HR to prevent any accusations of favoritism. I should have done the same with Woodhouse's inappropriate behavior from the start. "Everything with him just started out so innocuous and grew so slowly." I groan. "He also makes my job a lot easier. It would be difficult to replace him."

"I cannot believe that just came out of your mouth." She makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "Scratch that. I can." She's silent for a moment. "You know if he's talking to you like that, he's probably talking to other women like that."

"I've mentioned my concerns in passing to the rest of the C-suite. He hasn't approached any of them." I let out a breath. "So where can I find a fake fiancée, Hettie?"

She sighs. "Have you talked to Marin?" she asks.

"No. I wanted to talk to you first. There's nothing illegal if I hire someone, right?"

"As long as you're not paying her for sex, no." She sounds hesitant. "Illegal or not, Flor, it's risky. If this leaks, it'll be a PR nightmare."

"We'll put an NDA in the contract."

Hettie grumbles something under her breath. "Yes, we can do that. But for the record, it's a terrible idea."

I smile despite myself. "This is all off the record, but your objection is noted. I'll have Marin start searching."

After hanging up, I stare at my untouched beer. I've spent my entire career building a reputation on competence and honesty. Now I need to clean up my own mess because my defense mechanism against pushy men is still to claim that I'm taken.

What's worse is that I'm dragging Hettie and Marin into it, too. And another woman—whoever she ends up being. All because I couldn't deal with him like an adult.

I sigh and pick up my phone. "Marin, I need your help with something confidential."

Twenty minutes later, she's in my home office with her tablet, already sorting through profiles.

"What exactly are we looking for?" she asks.

"Someone competent. Professional. No social media." I pace behind my desk. "Someone who can maintain appropriate boundaries and understand this is strictly business."

She raises an eyebrow. "The great Florence Pietra, who prides herself on never playing games, is going to hire a fake fiancée? Never thought I'd see the day." The corner of her mouth twitches.

"Do you have a better solution?" I snap. I immediately regret it. "I'm sorry. I hate this. But I can't let this damage the hospital's reputation."

"You mean your reputation."

"Both." I stop pacing. "I've worked too hard to let someone like Woodhouse destroy what I've built. But letting someone into my life, even temporarily…" I trail off, the thought of losing control of my tightly contained world making my stomach clench.

"We'll find someone suitable," Marin assures me.

One small lie. A stupid lie.

One more complication I don't have time for.