Chapter Eleven
LIVIA
The conference room on the twenty-ninth floor feels like a pressure cooker by mid-morning.
Sunlight filters weakly through the rain-streaked windows, but the team gathered around the long table pays it no attention.
We have spreadsheets open on multiple laptops, printed timelines pinned to the mobile boards, and stacks of revised profiles that need one final pass before the retreat.
I sit between Marcus from Operations and Priya from Client Strategy, my fingers flying across the keyboard as we cross-check every detail of the Aurelius security package.
“Page seven needs the updated vendor access logs,” I say, highlighting a section on my screen. “We cannot have any gaps in the perimeter scheduling.”
Marcus nods and adjusts the document. “Already pulled the latest from Security. Ferretti signed off on the drone coverage this morning.”
Priya leans over to peer at my notes. “You caught that overlap in the evening transport routes. Good eye, Livia. Most new hires would have missed it.”
I offer a small smile, but the praise feels double-edged today. The entire floor seems charged with something I cannot quite name.
Colleagues glance my way a little too long when they think I am not looking. Conversations dip when I enter the copy room.
I tell myself it is paranoia, the natural result of too little sleep and too many secrets. Yet the weird vibe persists through the intensive review session.
Someone from Legal clears their throat awkwardly when I suggest a minor wording change to the family protection clause.
Another analyst excuses herself quickly after I answer a question about the Hudson Valley logistics.
By the time we break for a short coffee refill, the tension has settled under my skin like static. Priya follows me to the small pantry area near the elevators.
She's one of the few people who has been genuinely warm since my first day, quick with practical advice and sharper insights than her cheerful demeanor suggests.
“Don’t mind them,” she says quietly as she pours oat milk into her mug. “They are just jealous.”
I stir sugar into my coffee and glance at her. “Jealous of what? I have been here less than two weeks and I am already buried in the biggest client pitch of the quarter. If anything, they should feel sorry for me.”
Priya gives me a funny look. “What? So you’re not sleeping with the boss?”
Mortification hits me like a slap, my whole face heats up as I nearly drop the coffee cup. “Priya.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound bright and unfiltered.
“I’m joking. I'm joking. But yeah, that’s the word flying around.
You haven't been up to a week and you’re already going on this important career-boosting ten-day retreat upstate.
People talk. Especially when the boss himself seems… attentive.”
I set my cup down hard enough that liquid sloshes over the rim. “I’m not. We’re not. This is strictly professional.”
Priya watches me for a second, then softens.
“I know. Personally, I like you, Livia. You actually know what you are doing, and you are incredibly easy to work with. Yesterday Marcus ate something questionable for lunch and kept farting in the strategy meeting. I pointed it out politely, and he got offended. Then he kept farting. It was horrible. Horrible.”
I stare at her for a beat, then laughter bubbles up despite everything. It starts small and grows until my shoulders shake. Priya joins in, leaning against the counter as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.
“You should have seen your face just now too. Classic. But seriously, ignore the whispers. Do good work and let them choke on it.”
We laugh a little longer, the sound easing some of the tightness in my chest. For a few minutes the office politics fade, replaced by the simple relief of having at least one ally who sees me as more than rumor fodder.
My mind chooses this time to remember Valentino’s hand covering mine under the dinner table last night, the deliberate brush of his knee, the way my body had responded even while panic clawed at me.
The rumors are not entirely baseless in appearance, and that terrifies me more than anything.
Back in the conference room the review intensifies. We run through every contingency for the retreat, from guest vetting to emergency extraction protocols.
I contribute where I can, humanizing the technical language and suggesting ways to make the protection measures feel less invasive.
My mind keeps drifting, however, to the contract in my email inbox. The fake engagement agreement.
I signed it digitally during a bathroom break, heart hammering as I initialed every clause. Separate rooms. No unnecessary touching. Nico off-limits as a prop.
Valentino treats the entire arrangement like a full-scale security operation. I discover this when he summons me to his office shortly after lunch.
The rain has eased outside, but the gray light still casts long shadows across his expansive workspace.
He stands at the center of a carefully organized spread of documents, tablets, and printed timelines that look more like mission briefs than personal plans.
He glances up as I enter. “We need to align on the backstory before any public interactions at the estate.”
I close the door and cross my arms. “This is insane. You have color-coded folders for a fake relationship.”
“Improvisation is what people call failure before it happens,” he replies without missing a beat. His voice stays calm, but his eyes hold that steady intensity that always makes my heart quicken.
“Our timeline starts from three months ago. We met at an industry event, reconnected when you joined the company. Proposal was private. Small gathering with close friends. Nico approved because I promised to teach him about fast cars.”
I stare at him. “You planned our fake proposal down to Nico’s reaction?”
He nods once, completely serious. “Details matter. I also arranged wardrobe selections for the retreat. Nothing flashy. Pieces that suggest quiet commitment rather than performance. Your measurements are on file from the corporate health forms. Tailors will deliver tomorrow.”
“You’re actually insane,” I mutter, but heat creeps up my neck at the thought of him reviewing my measurements
The memory of our near-kiss in this very office yesterday surfaces unbidden. The way his breath had brushed my lips. The raw restraint in his body when he stepped back.
I push the images away and focus on the present. “This level of preparation for a ten-day lie feels excessive.”
“Excessive preparation prevents leaks,” he says. He picks up a tablet and swipes through a shared document.
“I need authentic details only you can provide. Favorite coffee order. How I proposed. Why you said yes. How Nico reacted. Small things that make it believable.”
Before I can protest further, he presses a button on his desk phone. “Sofia, get Piper on the line.”
His assistant responds promptly. “On it.”
Barely two minutes later my phone vibrates with an incoming call from Piper. I answer on speaker at Valentino’s nod. Piper’s voice comes through slightly distracted, the faint clacking of her laptop keyboard audible in the background.
“Hey Liv, what’s up? I’m finalizing seating charts and fighting with a vendor who thinks peonies are acceptable in May. Talk fast.”
Valentino introduces himself smoothly. “Piper, this is Valentino Ferretti. We spoke earlier. Livia is here with me and we need your help filling in authentic details for the cover story regarding our engagement. Anything you can provide will strengthen the narrative.”
There is a brief pause, more typing, then Piper’s tone shifts to something sharper and protective.
“The fake engagement. Right. Okay, favorite coffee for Livia is a flat white with oat milk, extra shot, no foam art because she hates when it gets cold too fast.”
I hear something shift in the background.
“Excuse me,” she says. “Trying to change my position. My feet are killing me.”
She continues. “Yeah, so you proposed during a quiet walk in Central Park near the Conservatory Water. Got down on one knee with a simple diamond solitaire because Liv’s not flashy.
She said yes because you make her feel safe in a world that hasn’t always been kind to her, and you are great with Nico. ”
I listen, stunned at how easily she supplies the human touches while still typing away on her end. Valentino takes notes with precise efficiency, asking clarifying questions about shared habits and inside jokes.
The conversation flows surprisingly well until Piper’s email notification pings loudly.
“Hold on,” she says. I hear her open the message and then read it aloud in an exaggerated mocking British accent that has nothing to do with Dominic’s actual voice.
“Dear Ms. whatever, I am requesting a professional consultation regarding the gala’s security overlap with the Aurelius retreat. Blah blah strategic alignment. Signed, Dominic Calder, insufferable suit.”
She snorts. “I would rather eat an entire centerpiece than sit through another meeting with that man. But fine.”
I hear her fingers fly across the keys and within thirty seconds, the final billables click is audible. “Sent. Professional but pointed.”
I notice the speed of her response and the undercurrent of reluctant interest beneath the irritation.
Valentino ends the call politely after gathering what he needs. Once the line disconnects, he sets the tablet down and studies me for a long moment.
“If I did not know any better, I would think your best friend is in love with you.”
I laugh softly despite the chaos of the day. “She is. Just not that way. We’ve been through everything together since college. Why do you say that?”
“You should hear it from her yourself,” he replies, a faint smile touching his lips. “She made her position very clear earlier when I got Sofia to inform her that I'd need her help with drafting a backstory.”
The rest of the afternoon passes in more review sessions and final preparations. By evening I feel wrung out but marginally more in control.
Nico is with the neighbor’s teenager again, giving me a rare free night. Piper and I have our monthly sleepover scheduled at her place. I arrive with takeout Thai food and a bottle of wine, desperate for normalcy.
Piper’s apartment smells like her signature expensive candles and fresh laundry. She greets me in silk pajamas already, hair piled high, laptop still open on the coffee table.
We settle on the couch with plates of food and glasses of red wine. For the first hour we talk about everything except work. Nico’s latest racetrack obsession. Her gala nightmares.
Normal things.
Then she sets her plate down and fixes me with a knowing look. “Engaged, huh?”
I roll my eyes and take a long sip of wine. “It’s fake. Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s just for the retreat to keep the Aurelius deal alive. Separate rooms, strict boundaries, the whole thing is contractual. I signed it today.”
Piper listens, nodding slowly, but I can see the protective fire already burning behind her eyes.
She tells me about her conversation with Valentino in more detail, repeating her threat word for word. “If you hurt Livia or Nico, I will turn your luxury security empire into a Yelp review with Wi-Fi.”
She smiles sweetly at the memory. “He respected it. Actually sounded almost amused in that scary calm way of his. Told me he appreciated clear lines of defense.”
I laugh, but the sound feels shaky. The weight of the lie presses on me again. The rumors at the office. The careful backstory we built. The way Valentino’s gaze had lingered on me when Piper mentioned the proposal.
Everything feels one wrong step away from collapse.
Yet beneath the fear, unwanted warmth lingers whenever I remember standing close to him in his office, the near brush of our lips, the raw hunger in his eyes before he stepped back.
Piper refills our glasses and launches into more stories from her day, including another colorful complaint about Dominic Calder.
I listen and laugh in the right places, but my mind keeps drifting to the Hudson Valley estate looming ahead.
Ten days pretending to belong to Valentino Ferretti. Ten days protecting my secrets while my body betrays me with every accidental touch and heated glance.
I sink deeper into the couch cushions, wine warm in my veins, and wonder how long I can keep all the plates spinning before one inevitably crashes down around us.