Chapter 9
INA
Istared at Dane with my stomach attempting to try out for the Olympic somersault competition.
My mouth felt like I’d been sucking on cotton balls.
My deodorant was about to be put to the test. If I didn’t walk out of here with pit stains, I would personally write a letter to Proctor and Gamble and thank them.
I couldn’t get a good read on him. Was he mad? At me? He had to know it wasn’t my idea.
“So,” Dane said, breaking the silence. “Are you okay with this?”
I could tell from his tone that he expected me to say no. Expected me to stand up, march straight to Norma’s office, and file some kind of complaint about being pressured into a fake relationship with my boss for the sake of a marketing campaign.
Part of me wanted to do exactly that.
But another part was thrilled at the prospect of spending more time at his side, pretending my attraction was fake. When I looked into his eyes, the hot ache between my legs was intensely real.
I shrugged, trying to look more casual than I felt. “Honestly? Some publicity might be good for me.”
Dane’s eyebrows shot up. Clearly not the response he’d been expecting. “Good for you how?”
“Part of why I moved to New York was to find my future husband,” I said simply.
“That’s always been the plan. Small-town Wyoming wasn’t exactly overflowing with options, so I took a risk and came here.
If being in a fake relationship with you gets my face out there, I guess that increases my chances of meeting someone real. That’s not the worst trade-off.”
I paused, then added, “Of course, if you really wanted to sweeten the deal, you’d give me access to my own Cupid’s Arrow account.”
Something flickered across Dane’s face. But I had yet to be able to read the man. He was the opposite of an open book.
“You shouldn’t have been rejected from the app in the first place,” he said, his voice tight.
“The income requirement is—it’s arbitrary.
Outdated. We built it into the algorithm years ago to attract a specific demographic, but it’s really limiting our database.
” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you a raise. ”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“A raise. Enough to qualify for the app organically.”
“Are you serious right now?”
He looked up at me, and his expression was completely serious. “You’re good at your job, Ina. Better than Elise ever was, and she had three years of experience. You’ve reorganized my entire professional life in a month. You deserve a raise regardless of this complicated situation.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “That’s very kind.”
“Is there anything else?” He was looking at me like he was ready to solve whatever problems I threw at him.
I thought about Abby, sick on our couch with bronchitis she’d tried to work through because she couldn’t afford not to.
“Actually, yes. Is it possible to add a non-family member to my benefits plan?”
“Talk to Norma,” Dane said quickly like he didn’t want to hear about my personal life.
Was he serious or were we talking hypotheticals?
“Okay,” I said with a slow nod. “Are we negotiating or are you just granting wishes now? Can I have a pony?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Do you want a pony?”
“I live in a fifth-floor walkup. Where would I keep it?”
“You could ask for a house with stables.”
I honestly didn’t know if he was joking. He was impossible to puzzle out.
We stared at each other for a moment, and I realized this was the longest conversation we’d ever had. The most words we’d exchanged that weren’t directly related to his schedule or his meetings or whether he wanted his calls held.
Dane leaned back in his seat. “I don’t want you to do this if you’re not comfortable with it. It’s asking a lot. More than should be expected of anyone, let alone my assistant.”
“Executive assistant,” I corrected automatically.
His lips twitched again. “Executive assistant. The point stands. This is a lot to ask.”
I slid off my chair and onto the edge of the conference table, crossing my legs and trying to project more confidence than I felt. It was a move I’d seen on TV when the powerful lady lawyer gets all domineering and confident. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded warily. “You can but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
“Why did you accept the Most Eligible Bachelor title if you’re such a recluse?”
“I’m not a recluse,” he said immediately, looking genuinely offended. “I just don’t like people.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “That’s literally what a recluse is.”
“No, a recluse actively avoids society. I participate in society. I just don’t enjoy it very much.” He crossed his arms. “There’s a difference.”
“If you say so.” I swung my legs slightly, settling into the conversation. “But it’s funny, you know? Your entire company is based on people finding people they like. And you’re sitting here telling me you don’t like people.”
“Love,” he corrected sharply. “The company is based on people finding people they love. And that’s different.”
“Is it?”
I found myself genuinely curious about his answer. I wanted to know what Dane Kavanagh—brilliant businessman, grumpy CEO, secret Irish accent haver—actually thought about love. And life in general. Did he ever watch TV? Had he seen even one episode of Breaking Bad?
Did he use chopsticks when he ate sushi or did he power through it with a fork? Was he a cat person, a dog person, or the ever elusive bird person? My neighbors back in Wyoming had a couple gray parrots, and they were fun to talk to, even though their birds wouldn’t talk to me. Jerks.
Did he sing while he was driving alone in his car? Did he even drive?
I wanted to know him, not just his schedule.
“Every relationship is a transaction,” Dane said finally, his voice matter of fact.
“That’s what I built Cupid’s Arrow around.
It’s what our algorithm is based on. Give and take.
You provide something I need, I provide something you need.
When both parties benefit, the relationship works.
When the balance tips too far in one direction, it fails. ”
“So love isn’t actually part of the equation?”
He shook his head, and I could tell he believed what he was saying with his whole being.
“No. Love isn’t real. Companionship, sure.
Having another human to talk to that matches your overall social vibe, status, and desires?
Yeah, that’s real and people take great joy in it.
But love? The magical, overwhelming, makes-you-do-stupid-things kind of love?
That’s fiction. It’s what we sell because it’s what people want to believe in, but it’s not actually what makes relationships work. ”
I felt disappointment settle in my chest like a stone.
This was the man I was going to pretend to date? The man who thought love was a fairy tale. He reduced human connection to a business transaction, and looked at the world through spreadsheets and algorithms?
“I don’t believe that,” I said quietly. “Not for a second. There’s a neon pink heart beating in that chest of yours.”
“You don’t have to believe it. But I’m the one who built a billion-dollar company on understanding how relationships actually work, so…” He shrugged, and the gesture felt defensive somehow. “What do you know?”
It stung more than it should have.
I slid off the table, suddenly desperate to leave this room and this conversation and the way Dane was looking at me like I was naive for believing in something as fundamental as love.
“You’re right,” I said, heading for the door. “What do I know? I’m just a small-town girl with a theater degree who thinks love is magic. Clearly I have no idea how the world actually works.”
I made it exactly two steps when his hand closed around my elbow.
My entire body reacted in a way that felt highly inappropriate and extremely dangerous. I had to actively resist the urge to lean into the contact.
This was bad.
This was so, so bad.
“Wait,” he said in a gravelly voice.
I stood there frozen with his hand on my elbow and my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.
“Heidi’s right,” he said finally. “This marketing opportunity is something I can’t ignore. A good idea is a good idea. I have to do this campaign regardless of what I want. I can find someone else to play the role—hire a model, pay an actress, whatever—or I can make this worth your while.”
I turned to face him, and he dropped his hand from my elbow. I immediately missed the contact.
“By giving me a fully free Cupid’s Arrow membership?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
He frowned. “Until the day you get married, sure.”
“And?”
“And what? What else is there?”
“The health insurance thing for Abby.”
“Your non-family member you want insured?”
I nodded. “My roommate.”
“Talk to Norma,” he said. “If there’s a way to make it work, she’ll know.”
I grinned despite myself. “So let me get this straight. You’re offering me a raise, a premium Cupid’s Arrow membership with no restrictions, and help getting my roommate on my health insurance plan. In exchange for pretending to be your girlfriend for a few weeks?”
“That’s the deal.”
“Okay.”
He blinked. “Okay?”
“Sure, I’ll be your girlfriend.” I was already moving toward the door again, suddenly needing space before I changed my mind. “But you could have asked in a more romantic way. I hope you’re better at this in public.”
I didn’t wait for his response. I left the conference room as quickly as my legs would carry me without actually running, my face burning and my heart racing and little red flags bouncing around in my brain.
It was the craziest thing I had ever agreed to do. But how could I refuse? His offer was too generous to pass up. And hopefully, after I was done fake dating Dane, I would find my true love using his app. I just knew a good man was in New York waiting for me.
I just had to find him. Maybe Cupid’s Arrow would hit its mark for me too.