Chapter 6
Daniel
I’ve been gripping the steering wheel hard for the last twenty minutes. My knuckles are white, and my jaw is clenched so tight my teeth ache.
I fucked Trevor’s sister.
I hired Trevor’s sister.
I can’t stop thinking about Trevor’s sister.
The highway blurs past. I’m driving too fast, weaving through traffic with recklessness that would make my lawyer nervous. I don’t care. My phone buzzes in the cup holder, but I ignore it.
It buzzes again. And again.
The ringtone starts. Stops. Starts again.
I glance down. Lottie’s name flashes across the screen. She has called four times in the last ten minutes.
I pull into a rest stop, my tires screeching slightly as I brake too hard. The parking lot is mostly empty, with just a few semis and a family loading into a minivan.
I grab my phone and answer.
“What?”
“Where have you been?” Lottie’s voice is sharp. “I’ve been calling for an hour.”
“I was at an event. What’s the emergency?”
“Cassidy.”
Fuck.
“What about her?”
“She dropped a new piece thirty minutes ago. It’s already trending.”
I close my eyes and count from ten to one. “What does it say?”
“Hold on. I’m sending you the link.”
My phone buzzes. I open the article.
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS: THE UNRAVELING OF DANIEL WILLIAMS.
Former partner speaks out about erratic behavior, controlling tendencies, and the volatile billionaire investors don’t see.
I scan the article. Each paragraph is worse than the last. Cassidy is quoted extensively, describing mood swings, paranoia about loyalty, late-night calls where I allegedly ranted about people betraying me, and claims I became “someone completely different” behind closed doors.
She describes detailed, specific incidents that sound plausible even though half never happened. A dinner where I supposedly berated a waiter until he cried. A weekend trip where I allegedly threw my phone across a hotel room and put a hole in the wall.
A conversation where I told her I trusted no one, that everyone was trying to destroy what I’d built.
There are quotes from “unnamed sources close to Williams” confirming the behavior, colleagues who requested anonymity, and business associates who’ve “seen the cracks.”
The article paints a picture of a man barely holding it together—someone who presents well in boardrooms but is volatile, unstable, and potentially dangerous when the mask slips.
The final paragraph hits the nail on the head:
“The question isn’t whether Daniel Williams is brilliant.
It’s whether he’s stable enough to be trusted with other people’s money and futures.
Those who know him best describe a man increasingly isolated, paranoid, and unable to maintain any relationship that doesn’t serve his interests.
As Williams Ventures pursues its largest merger, investors should ask themselves: Is this the kind of leadership they want steering their investments? ”
“Daniel?” Lottie’s voice cuts through the roaring in my ears. “Talk to me.”
“I’m here. How bad is the fallout?”
“It’s bad. Investors are calling. The board wants an emergency meeting. Larsson’s people are asking questions about leadership stability.”
No. The Larsson deal took almost a year of negotiation before we finally settled on two hundred million dollars, the biggest merger in company history. Hell no.
“What do they want?”
“Reassurance. They want to know that this isn’t going to blow up in their faces.”
“It’s a hit piece from a bitter ex.”
“I know that. You know that. But the public doesn’t care about the truth. They care about narrative, and right now, the narrative is that Daniel Williams is a maniac who destroys everything he touches.”
I press my palm against my forehead.
“What’s the play?”
PR response. We’ll probably spin it and paint Cassidy as the bitter ex she is.”
“That’s it?”
“For now. But Daniel—” She pauses. I hear papers shuffling. “The board is going to push for more. They want optics. They want proof you’re not the person Cassidy is painting you as.”
“How do I prove that?”
“You show them someone different. Someone capable of connection.”
Understanding dawns slowly.
“You want me to date someone.”
“I want you to be seen with someone,” she says, her voice gentling.
“I know you hate this. It feels forced and manipulative, but perception matters—especially now. It’ll only backfire if you come out swinging and try to paint Cassidy as the bitter ex.
That’s exactly the story everyone already expects you to tell. ”
I stare through the windshield at nothing.
“Why aren’t we considering suing that woman?”
“Really? You want to drag yourself into a messy lawsuit right when you’re at the peak of your career. Daniel, you have everything lined up. The world is practically yours right now. This is the safest, smartest way to protect that before it all spirals out of control.”
“Who did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Someone from your social circle? A friend? It doesn’t have to be serious, just visible enough to counter the narrative, plus we also need to make sure it’s someone you trust.”
Bailey’s face flashes through my mind, and I blink hard. “No,” I say it out loud. “Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m thinking.”
“Think fast. The board meets on Tuesday morning. They’re going to want answers.”
My phone buzzes as another call comes through. It’s Trevor.
“I have to go.”
“Daniel, wait—”
“I’ll handle it. Bye.”
I end the call before she can argue, and when I try calling Trevor back, it goes straight to voicemail. Fine. I’ll deal with him later.
Right now, I need to think. The idea of a fake relationship to fix my image is ridiculous, cheap, and manipulative, precisely the kind of thing Cassidy accused me of.
But the more I think about it, the more it makes twisted sense. Bailey is different; she’s grounded and composed. Honestly, she’d handle it better than most. But the problem is, well, clear.
I start the car and pull back onto the highway.
The drive home is shorter than usual. Or maybe I was just driving too fast, and the angry honks I ignored were meant for me after all.
By the time I park in my building’s garage, I’ve convinced myself this was a terrible idea.
By the time I’m in the elevator, I’ve reconsidered.
By the time I’m in my penthouse, staring at the city lights, I’m already planning how to ask.
I pour myself a neat scotch I can’t bring myself to drink. Instead, I pull out my phone and open a new message to Bailey.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
This is wrong. This crosses every line. This puts her in an impossible position.
I type anyway.
Come to my office on Monday morning please. Important.
I hit send before I can change my mind.
Then I pour the scotch down the sink and make myself coffee instead.
The weekend drags on, and I try to bury myself in work.
I bounce between drafting presentations, answering emails, and preparing for Tuesday’s board meeting, but focus is impossible.
Every thought keeps looping back to Bailey and the look I imagine she’ll give me when I tell her this wild idea.
I can practically see her pausing just long enough to decide which pair of heels to throw at me first.
I sigh, leaning back in my seat.
I guess we’ll have to see.
***
Monday morning arrives.
I’m in my office by six, building my argument. By eight thirty, I’m pacing. By nine, I’m standing at my window watching the street below. At nine fifteen, my assistant buzzes. “Ms. Rodgers is here.”
My pulse kicks up. Here we go.
“Send her in.”
I move behind my desk just before the door opens.
Bailey walks in wearing a charcoal skirt and a burgundy blouse. It’s amazing how she always manages to be so put together.
“Ms. Rodgers. Thank you for coming.”
“It’s not like I had a choice.” She stays near the door. “What’s this about?”
“Sit. Please.”
She hesitates, then crosses to the chair, settling on the edge like she’s ready to bolt. I remain standing.
“I assume you saw the article.”
Her brow furrows. “What article?”
Right. She probably doesn’t follow business news.
I pull up Cassidy’s piece and turn my laptop toward her. I watch her face shift from confusion to understanding to something that might be sympathy as she reads.
“Your ex did this?”
“Former business associate, whom I briefly dated. Yes.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s also trending. Investors are panicking, and the board is demanding a response.”
She looks up. “What does this have to do with me?”
I clear my throat.
“I need to rehabilitate my image. Show that I’m capable of everything Cassidy claims I’m not.”
“Okay…”
“The most effective way to do that is through a relationship. Something visible, believable, and real enough to counter the narrative.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. Then disbelief.
“Are you asking me out?”
I choke. “No, no, no.”
“You want me to fake date you.”
“I want to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
She lets out a sharp and brittle laugh, her head tilting enough for me to see the small dimple at the corner of her mouth. I physically stop myself from reaching out to touch it but damn if it isn't cute.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I’m being practical.”
“You’re being insane.” She stands. “I’m your employee. You’re my brother’s best friend. This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m aware of the complications.”
“Are you? Because from where I’m standing, this is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Which is why I’m offering compensation.”
That stops her. She stares at me as I reach into my desk drawer, pulling out an envelope I prepared yesterday. Her brows furrow as I slide it across the desk toward her.
“What’s that?”
“Open it.”
She doesn’t move. “Daniel—”
“Just look.”
She picks up the envelope with two fingers, opening it slowly.
Inside is a check alongside a document outlining terms.
I watch her eyes widen as she reads the number.
“This is—” Her voice cracks. “This is enough to pay off my student loans. And then some.”
“It’s enough to fund your animation projects, even starting your own studio if you want. Quit working for me entirely once this is over.”
She sets the envelope down and steps back. “You’re trying to buy me.”
“I’m offering you an opportunity.”
“To lie to everyone.”
“To help us both.”
“How does this help me? Other than money?”
“It gives you freedom. You’ll be able to pursue your real dreams instead of settling for adequate design work.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s manipulative.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s also insulting. You think I’d sell myself for money?”
“I think you have goals, and this arrangement could help you achieve them while solving my problem.”
She crosses her arms. “What exactly would this arrangement entail?”
“Public appearances, dinners, and some social media presence. Nothing physical beyond what’s necessary for appearances.”
“Necessary for appearances.”
“Holding hands, standing close, just the appearance of intimacy without actual intimacy.”
“So fake dating.”
“Professional role-playing.”
She laughs again. “You can’t actually believe this will work.”
“It’s worked before.”
“For who?”
“Several high-profile couples in similar situations.”
“Name one.”
I can’t because I’m making this up as I go.
She sees my hesitation. “Exactly. This is a terrible plan.”
“It’s the only plan I have.”
“Then you need better plans.”
She eyes me, carefully. “Why me? You could hire someone. An actress. A professional.”
“Because you’re genuine. Because people will believe you when you vouch for me. Because—” I stop because I can’t say the rest.
Because you’re the only person who’s made me feel human in years.
“Because what?”
“Because there’s already chemistry between us.”
Her cheeks flush. “That was one night.”
“That was enough to know we’re believable together.”
We stare at each other across ten feet of expensive carpet.
“This is wrong,” she says quietly.
“Probably.”
“Trevor will kill you if he finds out.”
“He won’t.”
She shakes her head. “If I say yes, this doesn’t mean anything. It’s business.”
“Understood.”
“And the moment it gets complicated, we end it.”
“Agreed.”
“I need to think about it.”
“The board meets tomorrow morning.”
“Then I’ll think fast.”
She walks to the door but pauses with her hand on the handle. “I’ll give you an answer before the meeting.”
“Thank you.”
She leaves without another word.
I sink into my chair, pulse hammering, hands shaking slightly, praying this stubborn woman is brave enough to say yes.
Or reckless enough.