Chapter 24
When the elevator doors slid open the next morning, her senses were flooded with color.
Sunflowers. Dozens of them. Bright yellow blooms split between several crystal vases, all arranged across her desk like they were eagerly awaiting her arrival.
Behind this sea of gold and green stood Ronan, an expression of self-satisfaction on his face.
His hands were tucked into the pockets of his flawlessly tailored suit, as if he hadn’t turned her workspace into a botanical display.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying that tone that made her heart skip.
“Good morning,” she said as she crossed the room. “I see you’ve been busy.”
“I have excellent time management skills,” Ronan said, the corner of his mouth lifting in that almost-smile she’d grown to cherish. “The florist opens at six.”
She reached out to touch one of the velvet petals, her other hand instinctively moving to the pocket of her blazer where she’d slipped the key he’d given her yesterday—the key attached to a small silver sunflower charm.
The thoughtfulness of it all—the flowers, the key, the way he’d remembered every detail that mattered to her—left her momentarily speechless.
“You’re staring,” Ronan observed, breaking into her thoughts.
“I’m appreciating the view,” she murmured, setting down her bag and stepping closer to him.
“The flowers or me?” he asked, and there it was again—that playfulness that still caught her off guard.
“Both.” She straightened his already-perfect tie, letting her fingers linger. “But mostly you.”
His eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips before reluctantly pulling away. “We should establish some workplace boundaries,” he murmured, though the regret in his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea.
“Probably,” she agreed, stepping back with exaggerated professionalism. “Very wise, Mr. Wilder.”
“Don’t start,” he warned, though the shift at the corner of his mouth gave him away. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Of course.” She nodded. “The fearsome CEO. The financial mastermind. The one who reduced an intern to tears over a misaligned spreadsheet.”
“That was one time,” he protested, looking adorably defensive.
She laughed, the sound drawing curious glances from employees passing by.
The office was still adjusting to this new version of Ronan Wilder—one with edges that didn’t cut so sharply, one who lingered instead of retreating.
It was a far cry from the icy, unapproachable figure they’d all come to fear.
Now they were witnessing a far more unsettling development: Ronan Wilder, in love.
“I have meetings until two,” he said, checking his watch with barely concealed reluctance. “Dinner tonight?”
“I’d like that,” she replied. “But I promised Lucy I’d stop by the bakery after work. I haven’t seen her since—”
“Since before my last trip to Martha’s Vineyard,” he finished, the stern lines around his eyes seeming to ease. “You should go. She’ll want details.”
“Oh, she’ll demand them,” she said with a grin. “Along with a full character assessment of you.”
“Should I be worried?” he asked, only half-joking.
“Absolutely terrified.”
He laughed—a real, unrestrained laugh that transformed his face and sent a ripple of whispers across the office. Ronan Wilder, laughing at 8:47 in the morning? The world had turned upside down.
“Well then, you enjoy some time,” he said, backing toward his office with a lingering glance. “But how about I pick you both up at seven and join you for dinner?”
“That sounds great. I’ll let her know. She’s been waiting for this moment since I first mentioned your name.”
He stepped in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.
“I’d better get to that meeting,” he said, like he hadn’t short-circuited her morning. And like that, he was gone.
The morning slipped by in a flurry of emails, meetings, and phone calls.
But no matter how focused she tried to be, her eyes kept drifting to the sunflowers Ronan made sure were on her desk always.
They were impossible to ignore—a bright, cheerful reminder that her life had changed in ways she was still trying to understand.
Julia from Accounting stopped by three times with increasingly flimsy excuses, each visit ending with a pointed glance at the flowers and a failed attempt at casual questioning.
By lunchtime, she’d fielded so many inquiries about her relationship status that she was understanding why Ronan preferred the sanctuary of his glass-walled office. Privacy was a precious commodity in the corporate fishbowl, especially when you were dating the CEO.
Dating. The word still felt strange—inadequate for what had bloomed between them during those moments of pretending and discovery.
They were beyond dating, though not at the stage the fake engagement had suggested.
They existed in some undefined space between, finding their footing in reality after so long in fiction.
Her phone buzzed as she finished her salad at her desk.
LUCY: Flour delivery running late. Might need to push back our dinner by 30 mins. Still coming, right? I need DETAILS.
She smiled and typed back.
DEVNEY: Wouldn’t miss it. And prepare yourself. Ronan’s joining us. He’ll meet us at the bakery at 7:00.
The typing dots appeared. Vanished. Returned.
LUCY: WHAT?! The ice king cometh to my humble bakery? Am I allowed to ask inappropriate questions?
DEVNEY: Within reason.
Devney pictured Ronan’s face when confronted with Lucy’s unfiltered curiosity.
DEVNEY: Go easy on him. He’s still new to all this.
LUCY: No promises. See you tonight.
The afternoon crawled by, her anticipation growing with each passing hour.
Not for Lucy’s reaction to Ronan, but for this next step in their relationship—introducing him to the most important person in her life.
It felt like blending two worlds that had existed in parallel until now, and she wondered if bringing them together would be awkward.
At exactly 5:45, she gathered her things and stopped by Ronan’s office.
He was on the phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, but the focused intensity in his face gave way to a warmer look the moment he spotted her in the doorway.
She gestured she was heading out, not wanting to interrupt what looked like an important call.
Without warning, Ronan held up a finger—wordlessly asking her to wait—then turned back to his call.
“Davis, I need to put you on hold.” He pressed a button on his phone and crossed to where she stood.
“Heading to meet Lucy?” he asked, his tone quieter now, the sharp edge of command gone.
“Yes,” she replied, still a little thrown by how he could switch between corporate shark and attentive boyfriend. “Did you put Tokyo on hold?”
“Tokyo can wait,” he said, and while her mind raced to catch up, he leaned down and kissed her—right there in the doorway of his glass-walled office. It was brief but undeniably deliberate. His hand cupped her cheek with affection from him that she hadn’t anticipated.
When he pulled back, his eyes held hers with intensity. “I’ll see you at the bakery at seven.”
“Okay,” she managed, momentarily speechless at this public display of affection from a man who meticulously managed every aspect of his professional image.
Knox appeared beside them, his expression clearly surprised. “Well,” he drawled, looking between them with a grin that said he’d seen what he needed to. “Guess that answers whether you two are keeping things professional at work.”
Ronan leveled him with a glare that would have withered most employees on the spot, but Knox only grinned wider.
“Go,” Ronan murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek once more before stepping back. “I’ll finish this call and meet you there.”
“Don’t be late,” she said, finding her voice at last.
Knox’s laughter followed her to the elevator, a reminder that she wasn’t the only one enjoying this new version of Ronan—the one who kissed her goodbye in full view of the office and put Tokyo on hold because she mattered more.
The bell above Flour & Honey’s door chimed as Devney stepped inside. At the end of the day, a few stragglers lingered over their drinks near the window, the final notes of music playing beneath the hum of closing-time routines.
Lucy looked up from behind the counter, flour dusting her dark hair and a streak of what might have been chocolate smeared across one cheek. Her eyes widened at the sight of Devney, and she set down the tray she’d been wrapping.
“Finally!” she said, rounding the counter. “I was starting to think you’d gotten caught in Ronan’s gravitational pull and would never escape.”
“Very funny,” Devney replied, accepting Lucy’s floury hug. “Sorry I’m late. Things are still…adjusting at the office.”
Lucy pulled back, her eyes narrowing as she studied Devney’s face. “You’re glowing,” she accused, tilting her head with theatrical revulsion. “Like, actually glowing. It’s disgusting.”
Devney felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Am not.”
“Are too,” Lucy said, steering them toward their usual table in the corner. “And you’re blushing, which only confirms my theory that Ronan Wilder has thoroughly corrupted my pragmatic best friend into a romantic sap.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Devney said, but the way her mouth twitched at the corners gave her away.
Lucy disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of madeleines. “So,” she said, sliding into the chair across from Devney. “How’s the office handling the news? Is HR having a collective aneurysm? Has Julia from Accounting started a gossip newsletter yet?”
Devney laughed. “The office is adjusting. Some people are still in shock. Others are weirdly supportive. Knox and Gabriel keep making these cryptic comments about winning bets.”
“And Ronan?” Lucy pressed, leaning forward with unabashed interest. “How’s Mr. Ice King handling public displays of affection in his buttoned-up corporate kingdom?”