10. Xavier
The spreadsheet was giving me a migraine.
I rubbed my temples and stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring into hieroglyphics. Sebastian wanted these reviewed by the end of the day, and I was only halfway through. At this rate, I'd be here until midnight—and still wouldn't understand what any of it meant.
A flash of movement caught my eye.
Someone walked past the glass wall of my office. Silver hair. Elegant posture. A familiar silhouette that made my blood run cold.
No. It couldn't be.
But even as I thought it, I was already on my feet. Because Zoe was in the conference room. Zoe, who was supposed to stay out of the arrangement. Zoe, whose existence I'd been carefully keeping separate from my grandmother's scrutiny.
If that was my grandmother—
I was out of my office and down the hall before I'd finished the thought, my heart hammering against my ribs. Please be wrong. Please let it be someone else. Please—
I rounded the corner and stopped dead.
Through the glass wall of the conference room, I could see them.
My grandmother, perched on the edge of the couch, her designer handbag beside her.
And Zoe, sitting up now, the blanket pooled around her waist, chattering away with the complete lack of self-consciousness that only children possessed.
Too late. I was too late.
I pushed through the door, trying to arrange my face into something casual. Normal. Not panicked.
"Grandmother. What a surprise."
She looked up at me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching. "Xavier. I stopped by to discuss the charity gala next month, but I seem to have found something far more interesting." Her gaze returned to Zoe. "This delightful young lady was just telling me about her stuffed elephant."
"His name is Peanut," Zoe supplied helpfully. "He's an astronaut."
"How wonderful." My grandmother's smile was warm, but her eyes were sharp when they met mine again. "Whose child is this, Xavier?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. My mind raced through possible explanations—an employee's kid, a friend's daughter, a random child who'd wandered in off the street—but I could see my grandmother watching me, cataloging every micro-expression, and I knew she'd see through any lie before I finished telling it.
"She's..." I swallowed. "She's Kim's daughter."
"Kim." The name landed between us like a stone. "Your Kim?"
"Yes."
My grandmother was quiet for a moment. Her eyes moved from me to Zoe, then back again. I could practically see the calculations happening behind her gaze.
"Is she yours?"
"What? No." I shook my head quickly. "No, of course not. Kim and I only started dating recently." I hesitated, unsure how much was mine to share. "Zoe's father is... not in the picture."
"I see." She studied Zoe again, something softening in her expression. "And you've been spending time with her? Getting to know her?"
"Yes."
"Interesting." She reached out and touched Zoe's cheek gently. "Very interesting."
I didn't like that tone. It was her scheming tone, the one she used when she was three steps ahead and waiting for everyone else to catch up.
"Grandmother—"
"This is good, Xavier." She cut me off, turning to face me fully. "A woman with a child. A ready-made family. This is exactly the kind of responsibility you need." Her eyes gleamed. "You should put a ring on her finger. Solidify your place in their lives before she realizes she can do better."
"I don't think—"
"Don't think, darling. Act." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "You've finally found someone worth keeping. Don't let her slip away."
Movement at the door. I turned to see Kim standing in the doorway, her face carefully blank, her eyes blazing.
Uh-oh.
"Kim!" My grandmother's voice warmed immediately. She crossed the room and pulled Kim into a hug before Kim could react. "I was just getting to know your lovely daughter. Why didn't you tell me about her before?"
Kim's eyes found mine over my grandmother's shoulder. The fury in them could have melted steel.
"I..." Kim started.
"I told her not to," I jumped in quickly. "We wanted you to get to know Kim first. Before... complicating things."
My grandmother pulled back, studying Kim's face. "Well, now I want to know Zoe, too." She glanced back at the little girl on the couch, who was watching the adults with obvious curiosity. "Bring her to dinner next time. We have a lot of bonding to do."
"That's very kind," Kim managed. Her voice was strained. "But—"
"No buts." My grandmother touched Kim's cheek the same way she'd touched Zoe's—gentle, almost maternal. "Family is family. And if Xavier is serious about you, then your daughter is part of this, too."
She gathered her handbag, pressed a kiss to Kim's cheek, and swept toward the door. As she passed me, she paused and wagged a finger in my face.
"Don't mess this up," she said quietly. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to you."
Then she was gone, her heels clicking down the hallway, leaving destruction in her wake.
The silence stretched.
Kim stood frozen, her hands clenched at her sides, her jaw so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath her skin. Zoe was looking between us with the confused expression of a child who could sense something was wrong but didn't understand what.
"Kim—" I started.
"Your office." Her voice was ice. "Now."
"Yes, ma'am."
I followed her out of the conference room, past curious eyes and whispered conversations, into my office. She closed the door behind us. The click of the latch sounded like a gunshot.
"I told you." Her voice was low. Controlled. The kind of ‘controlled’ that meant she was one wrong word away from shattering. "I told you Zoe wasn't getting involved.”
"I know, but—"
"I had one rule, Xavier. One condition. Keep my daughter out of this."
"I didn't invite my grandmother here. I didn't know she was coming. I—"
"This isn't a joke." She stepped closer, and I could see the fear beneath the anger now. The protective mother whose child had been exposed to something she'd tried to shield her from. "This is my daughter's life. Her stability. Her understanding of what family means."
My chest tightened at that word. Family.
"And now your grandmother thinks she's part of something that doesn't even exist."
"I'm sorry." The words felt inadequate. "I'll fix it. I'll explain to her that—"
"Explain what? That you lied? That this whole thing is fake?" Her voice cracked on the last word, just barely, before she caught it. "That you've been paying me to pretend to love you?" Kim laughed, but there was no humor in it. "No. We're done."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"Kim, wait—"
"I warned you." She was already turning toward the door. "I told you what would happen if Zoe got hurt. And now she's going to be confused when this ends, when you disappear from her life, when she has to understand that none of it was real."
"It's not—" I reached for her arm.
She pulled away. "Don't."
"Please. Just let me—"
"No." She yanked open the door. "I'm taking my daughter, and I'm leaving. We're done, Xavier. The arrangement is over."
She walked out.
I followed her to the conference room, still trying to find the words that would make her stay. "Kim, please. I know I messed up, but we can figure this out. We can—"
She wasn't listening. She was gathering Zoe's things, stuffing them into a bag with jerky, angry movements. Zoe watched with wide eyes, clutching Peanut to her chest.
"Mommy? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, baby." Kim's voice softened for her daughter, but I could hear the strain beneath it. "We're going home."
"But I don't feel good."
"I know. We're going to go home and rest."
"Is Mr. Xavier coming?"
Kim's jaw tightened. "No, baby. Mr. Xavier isn't coming."
Zoe's face crumpled. "But why? Did I do something wrong?"
"No." Kim scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You didn't do anything wrong. Come on. Let's go."
She walked past me without another glance. I stood in the doorway of the conference room, watching her go, watching Zoe's confused face peer at me over her mother's shoulder.
I was aware of the others watching, too. Assistants at their desks, pretending not to stare. Executives in the hallway, whispering behind their hands. Another assistant chased off by Xavier Dubois. Another failure to add to the list.
Kim reached the elevator. Pressed the button. The doors opened.
She stepped inside.
The doors closed.
She was gone.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the elevator, the weight of what had just happened settling over me like a shroud.
Then I turned and walked back to my office.
The door closed behind me. The silence was deafening. I collapsed into my chair and stared at the ceiling, my mind spinning.
What was I going to do?
The arrangement was supposed to be simple. A business deal. Three months of pretending, then a clean break. No mess, no complications, no feelings involved.
But feelings were involved. That was the problem. Somewhere along the way, between kite-flying disasters and midnight breakfasts and the way Kim laughed when she forgot to be guarded, I'd started to care.
Not just about the arrangement. About her. About Zoe. About this little family I'd stumbled into, this warmth I'd never known I was missing until I felt it.
I didn't want to lose them.
Not for the act. Not for my grandmother's approval or my inheritance or any of the reasons I'd started this in the first place.
I wanted them back because I wanted them. Period.
But Kim was furious. She had every right to be. I'd promised to protect Zoe from exactly this situation, and I'd failed. The fact that it wasn't intentional didn't matter. The result was the same.
I needed to fix this.
I needed to make her understand that this wasn't just about the arrangement anymore. That somewhere along the way, it had become real. That I would do whatever it took to earn back her trust.
But how?
I leaned back in my chair, running my hands through my hair, thinking.
Kim didn't trust easily. She'd been burned too many times—by the foster system, by Zoe's father, by every person who'd ever promised her something and failed to deliver. Words meant nothing to her. Only actions.
So I needed to act. Needed to show her, not tell her, that I was serious. That I understood what I'd done wrong. That I was willing to do whatever it took to make it right.
If there was one thing I knew, it was women. I'd spent years studying them, charming them, figuring out what made them smile and what made them melt.
But Kim wasn't like other women. That was the whole problem. And the whole point.
An idea began to form. I reached for my phone.