Chapter 18
She was in her own apartment, surrounded by the usual chaos of her real life—wilting plants, an overflowing laundry basket, a refrigerator holding nothing but expired yogurt and takeout containers—while her mind stayed trapped somewhere else entirely, replaying every moment in his penthouse, every touch, every whispered word.
She had been swept away by a night of incredible sex with her boss.
The question was, what happened now?
By the time she showered, dressed, and flagged down a cab on the corner, nothing felt settled. The city slid past the windows in a blur while her body still carried him, while her thoughts kept drifting back to the way he had looked at her, the way he had held her.
At work, the sunflowers from yesterday waited in their crystal vase. Her favorite flowers, something she had mentioned once in passing, and he had remembered.
When the elevator chimed fifteen minutes later, she looked up to see him walking toward her in a charcoal suit that made her mouth go dry. Their eyes met across the office, and the professional greeting she had rehearsed never made it past her lips.
He looked at her like she was everything he’d been thinking about. Whatever this was between them, they were both in far deeper than either of them had anticipated.
She settled into her chair, but her focus was a lost cause, her gaze constantly snagging on the man behind the glass.
Ronan sat with his head bent over reports, the distance between them feeling like a canyon instead of a few feet of office space.
He looked up once, trapping her stare. A sharp, unfamiliar tightness lived in the corners of his eyes before he abruptly dropped his attention back to the page.
Was that regret? The warmth of the morning felt suddenly fragile, like a temporary glitch in the cold, efficient machinery of his life. Maybe she had simply been a convenient comfort during a fever, a variable he was already calculating how to move to the “resolved” column.
Her phone buzzed.
LUCY: Lunch today? Need gossip that isn’t about flour ratios.
She typed back a quick confirmation.
By noon, the tension around her had wound so tight inside her that she couldn’t take another minute. She grabbed her purse and practically fled the office.
Outside, she hailed a cab. As Manhattan blocks rolled past the window, she hoped the distance would help clear her head. But every mile between them felt like a mistake.
The cab pulled up outside Lucy’s bakery, and she paid the driver. Through the window, she could see Lucy finishing up with a customer. When Lucy spotted her through the glass, she held up one finger, mouthed “just a minute.”
A few moments later, Lucy emerged from the bakery. “Thank God you’re here,” Lucy said. “I was about to lose my mind if I had to discuss fondant techniques one more time today.”
“That bad?”
“My last customer wanted to debate the merits of buttercream versus cream cheese frosting for twenty minutes,” Lucy said, then paused as they reached the café entrance, studying Devney’s face. “But judging by your expression, I’m guessing frosting is the least of our problems today.”
They found their usual booth in the back corner, away from the lunch crowd. Lucy waited until they’d ordered. “Spill.”
“Ronan bought me flowers yesterday.”
“Wait, Mr. Spreadsheet himself? Voluntarily purchased flowers?”
“Sunflowers. He remembered what I told him about my grandmother.” She traced the rim of her water glass. “And two nights ago. She looked up, heart pounding. “We made love.”
Lucy sat up straighter. “I knew this was real.”
“It’s complicated. The office is already starting to talk because we were both out sick the same day.”
“But there was a real moment between you, right?” Lucy pressed, her eyes bright. “Not a fake-fiancée moment.”
“Yes. Many moments.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Lucy asked.
The question cut straight to her core.
“I’m in love with him,” she said, the words barely audible.
“Finally,” Lucy breathed, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Took you long enough to admit it.”
“You were right. That day in the bakery. You saw it before I did.”
“I’ve been seeing it for months. Way before this whole fake engagement thing. The way you talk about him, the way your face lights up even when you’re complaining about his impossible standards.”
She covered her face with her hands. “This is bad, Lucy. So bad.”
“Why? Because you’re feeling real things for your fake fiancé?” Lucy took Devney’s hands from her face, forcing her to look up. “That seems reasonable to me.”
“He’s my boss,” she said. “Julia from Accounting cornered me in the break room this morning asking if I was ‘feeling better,’ looking like she’d already written the headline.”
Lucy winced. “Subtle.”
“Not remotely. And now I’m expected to act like it’s business as usual, while juggling all these real feelings.”
“The fake engagement was his idea, remember? And now he’s buying you flowers and making love to you. That doesn’t exactly scream emotional detachment.”
A wish stirred to life inside her. “You think so?”
“Men rarely buy flowers for women they’re indifferent to, especially men like him, who probably consider floral arrangements a wasteful allocation of resources.”
Despite herself, she laughed. “That does sound like him.”
“Look.” Lucy’s expression turned serious. “I’m not saying this is simple. The whole boss-employee thing is bound to get messy. But denying how you feel won’t make it any clearer.”
“So, what do I do?”
Lucy shrugged. “Be honest with yourself, at least. And maybe, when this Beauchamp deal is over, be honest with him, too.”
The thought gripped her with terror. “What if I’m reading emotions into an encounter that was just good sex?”
Lucy studied her face. “Is that what you really think happened?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice small. “The sunflowers, the way he looked at me in the moment, it felt like there was deeper meaning to it all. But maybe I’m seeing what I want to see because I’m in love with him.”
“Or maybe you’re so scared of being vulnerable that you’re looking for reasons to doubt what could be real,” Lucy said gently. “That’s more your style.”
“Style is one word for it,” she said, staring down at her barely touched lunch.
“Promise me something,” Lucy said, waiting until she looked up. “Don’t make any rash decisions. Don’t run away if things get scary. You tend to bail when emotions get too real.”
She wanted to argue but couldn’t. Lucy knew her too well. “I promise to try.”
“Good enough for now.”
The rest of lunch passed with Lucy steering the conversation to safer topics.
After lunch, she was hyperaware of every glance, every movement from his office. She caught him watching her through the glass more than once. Each time their eyes met, electricity sparked between them—a connection that felt both new and inevitable.
She checked her watch: two-thirty. Only thirty minutes until Andrew Beauchamp and his team would arrive. This investment deal was crucial for him.
He emerged from his office, stopping at her desk with a folder in hand. “Here is the final presentation for Beauchamp. “Can you check that the conference room is prepared? Make sure the refreshments are set up?”
“Already done,” she said, accepting the folder. Their fingers brushed, lingering a fraction longer than necessary. “The room is ready. Everything is set.”
“Perfect,” he said. “Everything needs to go well.”
He hesitated, as if there was more he wanted to say. “Devney,” he began, voice dropping lower.
Her heart stuttered. “Yes?”
The elevator chimed. Julia from Accounting stepped into view, eyes narrowing with interest.
“Let me know when they arrive,” he said, turning back toward his office.
“Of course.” She ignored the disappointment she felt.
Julia approached her desk, a folder clutched in her arms, questions plain on her face. “You two seem close.”
She kept her expression impassive. “I’m his assistant. It’s part of the job.”
“Right. The job that kept you both out sick on Monday?”
“I caught whatever he had. Occupational hazard.”
“Must be, considering how much time you two spend together.” Julia’s gaze sharpened, her tone shifting with it, cool and composed, like she’d been waiting for the perfect moment to say it. “People are talking, you know.”
She gave the woman a cool look. “Did you need something, Julia?”
“Dropping off the expense reports,” she said, placing the folder on Devney’s desk. She leaned closer, voice lowering. “For what it’s worth, I think you two make a lovely couple. Though usually office romances don’t involve the CEO.”
“It’s not what you think,” Devney said, heart racing.
“The sunflowers suggest otherwise,” Julia said, glancing meaningfully at the bright blooms. “Not to mention the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching.”
With that parting shot, Julia sashayed back toward her desk, leaving Devney staring after her.
What exactly were they? Were they dating? Having a fling?
She realized she had no idea what to call what was happening between them. And that terrified her almost as much as her feelings for him.
At five minutes to three, the elevator doors opened. Andrew Beauchamp stepped out, flanked by his assistant and two associates.
She rose from her desk and moved to greet them. “Mr. Beauchamp, welcome,” she said, extending her hand. “I’ll let Ronan know you’ve arrived.”
Ronan appeared at her side. “Andrew,” he greeted, extending his hand. “Right on time.”
“Good to see you again, Wilder,” Andrew said, clasping his hand firmly. “Shall we get started?”
“Of course.” Ronan placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s head to the conference room. Everything is ready.”
As they walked down the hall, he led the way with her beside him, his hand remaining at her back while Andrew and his team followed. When they reached the conference room, his hand dropped as he prepared to open the door. Before doing so, he leaned close to her, his breath against her ear.
“Ready?” he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear.
She turned to face him, their faces mere inches apart. “Yes.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and then with a subtle gesture hidden from the Beauchamp party, he reached for her hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it to open the door.
The meeting stretched for two hours, with him masterfully presenting his expansion plans and fielding questions.
Throughout it all, she felt his gaze returning to her again and again, as if drawing strength from her presence.
When Andrew finally nodded his approval and slid the signed investment papers across the table, Ronan’s eyes found hers immediately, bright with triumph.
“I look forward to seeing where you take this,” Andrew said, rising to shake his hand.
“We appreciate your confidence in us,” he replied.
As they escorted the Beauchamp party to the elevator, the reality settled over her. The charade had served its purpose. Andrew had signed the investment deal.
Back in the office, a champagne toast with the team celebrated the successful deal.
The atmosphere was electric. This investment meant expansion, security, growth.
As glasses clinked and congratulations flowed, she stood slightly apart, watching him accept handshakes and backslaps from the department heads.
She caught fragments of whispered conversations as she moved through the gathering—sleeping with the boss … you don’t bring someone flowers like that unless…figured trouble was going on between those two…
The words stung. What they’d shared had been real and was now reduced to office gossip and speculation.
She noticed Julia from Accounting huddled with two other women from Finance, their eyes shifting toward her. Everything she’d worked for, every boundary she’d tried to maintain crumbled under their scrutiny.
But more than that, she needed to protect what she and Ronan had found together. Whatever it was—love, attraction, something precious and fragile—it didn’t deserve to be torn apart by office vultures.
She moved to the center of the room and cleared her throat. Several heads turned in her direction.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice carrying across the space. More conversations halted, attention shifting toward her. “I’d like to say something.”
The room hushed. Across the gathering, she could see Ronan looking up. When their eyes met, his expression shifted to alarm.
“I know there have been rumors circulating,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribs. “About Mr. Wilder and me.”
The silence in the room deepened. Across the room, Ronan’s face had gone pale, and he was subtly shaking his head at her, a desperate warning in his eyes.
“I want to be clear about one detail. We are not dating. We are not anything but boss and assistant.” The lie burned as it left her mouth.
“We created this fiction to present a united front for the Beauchamp deal,” she explained, her voice strong.
“It was a business strategy, nothing more. And it worked. The deal you’re celebrating right now?
It secured all of your jobs for the long term.
So instead of gossiping about my personal life, perhaps you could focus on that. ”
She could see the horror on Ronan’s face, but she felt only the rush of defiant satisfaction. Let them judge her for being strategic.
“The relationship, all of it, was carefully orchestrated to give Mr. Wilder the family-man image that Beauchamp values,” she continued, each word a betrayal of her own heart. “We played our roles, we got the contract, and now it’s done.”
The room was dead silent. Shocked expressions surrounded her.
Then she noticed everyone’s eyes had shifted to a spot behind her.
She turned, and the blood drained from her face. Andrew Beauchamp stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“I believe I left my phone in the conference room,” Andrew said, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.
The full magnitude of what she’d done crashed over her.
The silence stretched, unbearable and absolute.
“Mr. Beauchamp,” she started, her voice barely audible. “I can explain—”
Andrew held up a hand, stopping her words.
“I think you’ve explained quite enough, Ms. Sinclair.
” He turned toward Ronan. “It seems we have matters to discuss.” Andrew turned and walked back toward the conference room, Ronan’s eyes met hers one last time across the shocked gathering.
The betrayal and devastation she saw there would haunt her forever.
Without a word, he followed Andrew, leaving her standing alone in the center of the silent room.