Chapter 17
INA
The coffee shop on the ground floor of our building was packed.
Apparently everyone had decided they needed a caffeine fix after a long Friday.
Everyone was probably getting fueled up for a wild weekend.
I just needed the boost to get through the next few hours before I collapsed in bed.
I was better, but there was still a lingering exhaustion.
I stood in line, shifting my weight from foot to foot, exhausted from a day that had felt like three days compressed into one. For me, it had been. The work hadn’t stopped because I’d been out. It just piled up.
The phone had been ringing off the hook since the Valentine’s campaign officially launched.
Everyone wanted a piece of Dane. I felt like the little boy holding my finger in the dam.
It was between Dane and the horde of investors, reporters, and podcasters asking for interviews.
Random people who somehow got the main office number and wanted to know if the rumors about him dating someone were true.
I’d spent eight hours saying variations of “Mr. Kavanagh is unavailable” and “I’ll pass along your message” until the words had lost all meaning.
And through it all, I’d barely seen Dane. He’d been in back-to-back meetings, then disappeared for a lunch that ran two hours over, then locked himself in his office for calls that I wasn’t privy to.
The only interaction we’d had all day was a brief Slack exchange about rescheduling Monday’s board meeting, and even that had been more perfunctory than usual.
I was trying not to read into it. Trying not to wonder if he was avoiding me. He’d been nice. Period. It didn’t mean he was always going to be nice and treat me like a friend.
“Medium latte with an extra shot,” I told the barista when I finally made it to the counter.
“Name?”
“Ina.”
I stepped aside to wait, pulling out my phone to check my emails one last time before the weekend. Nothing urgent. Just the usual end-of-week chaos.
And then I felt a presence. That female sixth sense kicked in, alerting me to danger. I looked up to find Keith standing far too close, holding what appeared to be some kind of elaborate iced coffee concoction despite the fact that it was February and actively snowing outside.
“Ina,” he said, smiling in that way that probably worked on most people but made my skin crawl. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Hi, Keith.” I took a small step back, trying to create more personal space. “How are you?”
“Better now.” He moved into the space I’d just created. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to catch you. You’re always so busy, running around doing Dane’s bidding.”
I forced a polite smile. “Doing my job, you mean. Yeah.”
“Right, right. But surely even the best secretaries get time off?”
“Yep.”
“I was thinking we could grab dinner sometime. There’s this new place in Tribeca that’s supposed to be incredible.”
“That’s very kind, but I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” He was still smiling, but there was an edge to it now.
“Both, honestly. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” He laughed, and it sounded mean. “That’s funny, coming from you.”
My stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, Dane gets to play girlfriend with you, but I can’t take you to dinner?” He leaned in closer, and I could smell his very aggressive, cloying cologne. “What makes him so special? Because he’s the CEO? Because he signs your paychecks?”
“Medium latte for Ina!” the barista called.
I grabbed my cup like it was a life preserver.
“Gotta run,” I said, already moving toward the door.
“Think about it,” Keith called after me. “You know where to find me.”
I practically ran out of the coffee shop, my heart hammering. I hurried toward the exit, just wanting to get outside, get to the subway, and get home.
The automatic doors slid open and I was hit with a blast of frigid air. It was snowing, fat flakes swirling in the wind. The sidewalk was already turning white.
I pulled my coat tighter and was about to head toward the subway entrance when I heard the sound of a car engine.
Dane’s silver car emerged from the entrance to the lower-level parking garage, pulling up alongside the curb. He made eye contact with me and rolled down the window. “Ina, hey.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see if Keith was following. He wasn’t. “Have a good weekend, Dane,” I said with a polite smile.
“You shouldn’t be out in this weather. You’re still recovering.” He gestured at the snow, which was coming down harder by the second. “Let me drive you.”
“I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“You’re not. Get in.”
I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder back toward the building once again. The coffee shop windows were visible from here, and I could swear I saw Keith’s silhouette watching us. I did not want to give him any additional ammunition to use against me.
“Ina.” Dane’s voice was gentler now. “Get in the car.”
“I’m fine. It’s a short walk.”
“It’s snowing, you’re shivering, and I’m going in your direction anyway. Please.”
He hopped out of his car and walked around to open the passenger door. I looked over my shoulder one more time—Keith was definitely watching—and then walked to the car. His luxury car was a million times better than the crowded subway that smelled like wet dog.
As I moved past Dane to slide into the passenger seat, his hand found the small of my back, just for a moment. It was so natural and so dangerous.
He closed the door once I was settled, then got in the driver’s side. The interior was warm, and I immediately felt the tension in my shoulders starting to ease. He pushed a button and thirty seconds later I felt heat warming my backside.
“Thank you,” I said as he maneuvered into the heavy evening traffic.
“You looked like you were running from something.” He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Or someone.”
I wrapped my hands around my latte, using it as a hand warmer. “Can we talk like friends for a second? Not boss and assistant?”
He glanced my way with concern written all over his face. “Of course.”
“Keith asked me out. Again.” I stared out the window at the snow-covered streets.
“I said no, obviously. Told him it wasn’t appropriate.
” I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it.
“He asked why it was appropriate for you to ‘play girlfriend’ with me but not appropriate for him to take me to dinner.”
I felt rather than saw Dane’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “How did you respond?”
“I grabbed my coffee and left. But he’s not wrong, is he? What we’re doing is kind of inappropriate. And the whole office knows about it. Everyone knows it’s fake, but they also see us leaving together, see the way we—” I stopped myself.
“The way we what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
We sat in silence for a moment, stuck in traffic that was barely moving. The snow was making everything worse, and what should have been a twenty-minute drive was clearly going to take twice that long.
“Heidi came to me with another scheme today,” Dane said finally.
My stomach dropped. “What kind of scheme?”
“A longer commercial. More behind-the-scenes footage, showing the whole Cupid’s Arrow process. Our profiles, the matchmakers pairing us up, footage from dates—she wanted to make it more… extensive.”
“Oh.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “What did you say?”
“I told her absolutely not. That we had done enough, and if she wanted to pursue that concept, she’d need to reshoot with someone else. An actress or a model. Someone who isn’t you.”
I turned to look at him, surprised. And maybe a little insulted and hurt. “Why?”
He was quiet for a few seconds, focused on navigating the traffic.
“Because you’re good at your job, Ina. Really good.
And I don’t want things to be weird between us because of some marketing campaign.
You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose that.
” He paused, seeming to wrestle with something.
“Outside of work, I’d like to see you from time to time.
As friends. And I can’t do that if Heidi turns you into the face of Cupid’s Arrow. ”
Friends.
The word should have made me feel better. Instead, it made something in my chest ache.
“You don’t think it’s already weird?” I asked quietly. “This whole situation?”
“Probably. But I’m hoping we can make it less weird by being honest about what it is. A business arrangement that happens to be pleasant. Sometimes.”
“Pleasant? Sometimes?!”
“I enjoy spending time with you,” he said simply, like it was a fact.
Like he was pointing out the snow was white and the sky was sometimes blue.
There was no emotion or inflection, just a simple statement.
“The fake dates don’t feel fake to me. They feel like spending time with someone I actually like.
Someone who makes me laugh. Someone who doesn’t expect me to be anyone other than who I am. ”
The car pulled to a stop in front of my building, and we sat there in silence as the snow continued to fall outside.
“I like spending time with you too,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “When you finally loosen up.”
We were both looking straight ahead now and not at each other. The tension in the car was so thick I could barely breathe.
I didn’t want that kind of discomfort between us. Like he said, we worked well together. We got along very well. And if he wanted to be friends, I could do that. I felt like he needed a friend. “Do you have your skates with you?”
He turned to look at me, and the surprise in his eyes made my heart stutter. “In the trunk. Always keep them there during winter, just in case.”
“Of course you do.” I smiled despite the emotional whiplash of the last ten minutes. “Do you want to come up? I’ll grab mine and we can go skating.”
“Go now?”
I shrugged. “Unless you have a hot date.”
He smiled—actually smiled. “I was trying to keep you out of the cold, but if you think you’re up for it.”
I nodded. “I am. I’m good.”
“Then go get your skates. I’ll wait here.”
I practically flew up the five flights of stairs, my exhaustion forgotten. I found my skates in the back of my closet, still in the bag I’d packed them in when I’d moved from Wyoming. I was hoping to get the chance to get on the ice.
I quickly changed into warmer clothes. I pulled on my thermal leggings and then my loose jeans that would give me freedom to move. I added an extra layer under my sweater, grabbed my gloves, and hurried back downstairs.
Dane was still there, car running, waiting exactly where I’d left him.
I slid back into the passenger seat, slightly breathless. “Okay. I’m ready.”
He grinned. “You changed.”
“I wasn’t going ice skating in a dress.”
He looked down at himself. “I’m wearing a suit.”
“But it’s still pants and you have a nice winter coat. You’ll be fine—unless you plan on sitting on the ice.”
He laughed. “We’ll see who’s the better skater.”