Chapter 19
PIP
Iadopt a jaunty stride as I enter the Woodward & Co boardroom the next morning, my head held high. The ridiculous high-necked, knee-length white suit chosen for me feels so stiff and uncomfortable that I wonder how I can possibly get through the day.
But I keep my eyes on the prize—the gallery my aunt always dreamed of. And, if there’s room in the budget, a storefront vintage shop for me, too.
“Darling, I hardly recognized you,” says Clare, striding over. She casts an appraising eye over my ensemble, then straightens my lapel.
“Congratulations. You look like the epitome of a charming young bride-to-be. Just ensure you walk the talk. Vanessa Sinclair will be here any minute. Have you studied your talking points?”
“Yes. Of course.”
As soon as Clare steps away, Snickers enters the boardroom. My pulse races.
He’s looking way too perfect in his tailored suit.
“You clean up nice, Fletcher,” he says, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he scans my ‘nice rich society lady’ outfit.
“Wish I could say the same for you,” I counter, eyeing his stubble. “The scruffy look is very... nouveau riche.”
He scowls. “Which means what, exactly?”
“You’re trying too hard.”
Kit’s camera clicks rapidly as she circles us. “That’s it—keep that tension. The public will love your little sparring matches.”
I roll my eyes, then meet Snickers gaze. We simultaneously share the same thought. This whole thing is absolutely ridiculous.
“Ready to convince the world we’re in love, darling?” He drops into a chair, gesturing for me to sit beside him. As I lower myself next to him, I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s so enticing I take another quick sniff.
Then another.
I’m not a woman who wears a lot of perfume or likes strong scents on others. But by my third sniff, I realize that Snickers’ delicious aroma is not cologne alone.
It’s a delightful aromatic kaleidoscope of freshly scrubbed masculine skin along with a rich, hard-to-define note—something like musk.
Or pheromones.
That must be it. Sniffing Snickers reminds me of all the naughty things we did to each other that magical night...
Suddenly, I feel Snickers’ arm slide up behind my shoulders. It's as if he can read the images I’m conjuring in my mind,
Casual, but somehow calculated.
“Good morning, Snickers,” says Clare, suddenly reappearing before us.
She thrusts a folder at each of us. “Review your talking points. Vanessa Sinclair is the most powerful gossip columnist in New York—some say the world. Above all, remember that the Rockefeller incident happened as a result of Snickers celebrating your engagement a little too enthusiastically with friends.”
I smile politely. “Of course.”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Snickers.
“Quiet on the set!” Clare says, checking her phone. “She’s here.”
I look through the frosted glass of the boardroom door and see a tall, razor-thin silhouette.
“Places!” Clare hisses.
“Ready, darling?” Snickers whispers, his low, seductive tone making me tingle.
Before I can volley back an appropriate response, the door opens.
Vanessa Sinclair stands in the doorway, elegant in a black suit, her shrewd eyes taking in every detail.
“Ms. Sinclair,” Clare purrs, “thank you for coming.”
“I’m always available for an exclusive.”
Clare smiles. “Now allow me to introduce you to our new CEO, Sheldon Woodward III. And his fiancée…”
“Pollyanna Fletcher,” I offer, trying to channel Antoine’s lessons in poise. “Though ever since Snickers named me Pip, everyone calls me by this nickname. I’m getting a little used to it myself.”
Vanessa’s lips curl into a razor-sharp smile as she settles into the chair opposite us.
I favor Snickers with a sweet, loving look before turning to Vanessa.
“He told me I was tiny but fierce, like a pip in an apple’s core.”
“She hated that nickname at first,” Snickers says, playfully rolling his eyes.
“I did not,” I counter, catching his eye. For a moment, our staged banter feels almost real.
“Did too,” he says, wrapping his arm around me tighter, his thumb making little circles on my shoulder.
I feel my core stir, despite my best intentions.
Vanessa’s pen pauses above her notebook. “And where exactly did your magical first meeting happen?”
I remember Clare’s coaching—stick to the script, keep it simple.
“Three weeks ago. In Chelsea Market,” I say.
“The snow was falling,” Snickers adds, his voice taking on a dreamy quality that almost makes me laugh. “She was scouting the stalls for vintage attire. I was checking out old-school vinyl records.”
“How... picturesque.” Vanessa’s pen scratches across her notebook. “And then what?”
“I summoned up the nerve to ask her out.”
Vanessa laughs. “You? An international celebrity DJ lacked nerve?”
“The Pipsqueak will do that to a man,” he says, making a show of covering his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to call her that. She hates the ‘squeak’ part of her nickname.”
I look at Snickers, surprised.
I didn’t expect him to embellish the story. Clare’s script just said ‘love at first sight.’ But Snickers is painting a picture so vivid, I almost believe it myself.
“And you said ‘yes’ when he asked you out, Pip? Just like that?”
“When you know, you know,” Snickers says with practiced sincerity. His other hand finds mine, interlacing our fingers. My pulse throbs with excitement.
“And the Rockefeller Center incident?” Vanessa leans forward, turning her attention to the bad-boy CEO. “Strange way to celebrate an engagement.”
“That’s my fault,” Snickers says. “I was overwhelmed with joy. Pip tries to keep me grounded, but sometimes...”
He grins down at me. “Sometimes her pipsqueak powers fail.”
I pinch his thigh under the cover of our clasped hands. His slight jump is satisfying.
“How fortunate you were there to rescue him,” Vanessa says to me, “almost as if you knew exactly where to find him.”
“Oh, that was pure luck,” I say sweetly. “I always seem to be around when Snickers needs to be saved from himself.”
Clare coughs delicately from her corner.
“What my fiancée means,” Snickers smooths over, pulling me closer, “is that she’s my better half. My voice of reason.”
“And it seems that Snickers and his world is having an influence on you, too, Ms. Fletcher. Those photos from Rockefeller Center show you in distinctive vintage wear.”
I sense Clare tensing from across the room. But Antoine’s words echo in my head: Own who you are.
“I design and upcycle vintage pieces,” I say.
“It’s my passion. But I’m learning to balance artistic expression with...” I glance at my stiff, new, boring suit. “Tradition.”
“Like Woodward & Co itself,” Snickers cuts in smoothly. “Honoring the past while embracing the future.”
I stare at him. That wasn’t in the script either.
“How diplomatic,” Vanessa drawls. “And now I understand you two will be sharing your romance with the city of New York?”
“A Valentine’s celebration,” Clare says, stepping forward right on cue. “Showing our city’s most romantic locations through the eyes of young love.”
Vanessa’s eyebrow quirks upward. “And this publicity tour has nothing to do with damage control after the Rockefeller incident?”
Snickers’ hand tightens on mine. “Actually,” he says, “I suggested it.”
Clare’s perfect smile freezes. This definitely isn’t in the script.
“Oh?” Vanessa’s pen hovers.
“Why hide something beautiful?” He looks at me with such conviction, I almost forget this is all fake. “Besides, Pip’s been teaching me to take more risks.”
“Carefully calculated ones,” I add quickly, making him grin.
Vanessa’s predatory smile softens slightly. “And what romantic locations can we expect on this tour?”
“That’s still being finalized,” Clare interjects, clearly trying to regain control.
“Actually,” Snickers says, his thumb resuming those maddening circles on my shoulder, “our first stop is the animal shelter this morning. We’re adopting a dog.”
“How wholesome,” Vanessa says, scribbling furiously. “The playboy CEO and his vintage fashionista fiancée are giving a pet a loving home. Readers will eat this up.”
“I think it’s important,” Snickers says, his voice taking on an edge I haven’t heard before, “to show that real relationships aren’t just about glamorous moments. Sometimes they’re about paper training a puppy at 3 a.m.”
I bite back a laugh. He sounds so earnest, anyone would believe he’s ready to clean up dog messes in his designer suits.
“And you’re prepared for that level of commitment?” Vanessa asks.
Snickers looks directly at me, his eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’m learning to take responsibility for my choices.”
Vanessa’s pen stops its movement. “Thank you both,” she says, rising as she closes her notebook. “I look forward to following your romance tour.”
The slight pause makes my stomach clench, but Snickers just beams.
“We look forward to sharing our joy with you and all of New York,” he says, helping me up with practiced grace.
We maintain perfect posture, perfect smiles, and hands perfectly clasped as Clare escorts Vanessa out of the room.
The second the door clicks shut, I yank my hand out of his.
“A dog?” I hiss. “You just decided we’re getting a dog? I was thinking a cute cat.”
“Clare’s notes definitely said dog. And you went off-script, too,” he whispers back, his charm evaporating.
“At least I didn’t commit us to 3 a.m. paper training!”
“Keep your voices down,” Clare says, returning. “The interview may be over, but we have a full day ahead. And we have a new problem to solve. The venue I scheduled for this afternoon has suddenly become unavailable. Let’s brainstorm another romantic venue—fast.”
“I’ve got it,” I say. “My aunt said that when she and my uncle Peter were dating, they spent a lot of time in the area around the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“I like that,” says Clare. “It will be very different from the other venues we’ve chosen. Now, you two better get ready—the van to the animal shelter arrives in an hour.”
“An hour?” We both sputter.
“Did you think we’d waste this momentum?” Clare checks her phone. “The paparazzi and tabloid writers Kit hired are already gathering. Time to go fall in love with an animal of your choice.”
I glare at Snickers. He glares back.
“After you, darling,” he says with exaggerated courtesy.
“No, after you, sugar,” I snap.
Clare rubs her temples. “This is going to be a long day.”