Liam's POV
The cameras were still flashing when we stepped into the car. Ayla sank back into the seat like she'd been holding her breath the entire night.
"Did I… do okay?" she asked quietly.
I glanced at her. Her hands were still clasped tight in her lap, knuckles pale. "You did fine."
Her lips curved faintly. She turned her face toward the window, but I caught the little exhale she let out.
The ride back was silent. Nathan drove. I stared straight ahead, but my thoughts kept circling. She had done more than fine. She faced down that viper in pearls without flinching. For someone who'd been apologizing to furniture this morning, that was something.
When we reached the penthouse, Ayla disappeared to her room almost immediately. I told myself it was better that way, less distraction.
But distraction still came.
By midnight, I was in my office with a glass of scotch, the city glowing beneath the windows. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing, headlines, photos, speculation.
"Liam Cross arrives at Maddox dinner with mysterious fiancée."
"Who is She? Secretary or soon-to-be Mrs. Cross?"
I set the phone face down, my jaw tight. The media never wasted time. And of course, they would dig. They always dug.
A soft sound broke the silence. I turned.
Ayla stood at the doorway, barefoot, her hair loose around her shoulders. She was holding her phone, worry written all over her face.
"They're writing things about me," she said. Her voice was hushed, almost guilty. "I didn't… I didn't say anything wrong, did I?"
I shook my head. "You didn't."
"But they're saying.." She stopped, biting her lip. Her thumb tightened on the phone. "They're saying I'm not good enough. That I don't belong beside you."
Something twisted in me. I set my glass down harder than I meant to. "Ignore it."
Her eyes lifted to mine. "That's easy for you to say."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The city hummed outside, the only sound.
She looked small standing there, but not weak. Tired, yes, wounded, maybe. But not broken.
"You handled yourself well tonight," I said finally. The words came out low and reluctant, but true. "Better than most expected."
Her brows rose slightly, like she wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. Then she gave a tiny smile, just a flicker. "Thank you."
She lingered another second, like she wanted to say more. Then she turned and walked back to her room, the soft pad of her footsteps fading down the hall.
I sat back in my chair, staring at the door long after it closed.
I should've been focused on the deals Richard hinted at. On the opportunities opening up. But all I could see was Ayla's chin lifted, voice steady, facing down people who thought she'd crumble.
And I hated how much space she was taking up in my thoughts.
I poured another drink, but it didn't burn enough. Nothing drowned the image of her standing in the doorway, asking if she was good enough.
The truth? She was. More than she realized.
That was the problem.
Monday came too fast. I hadn't slept much. My head was still fogged when Nathan showed up, phone in hand, rattling off updates.
"The press is running wild," he said. "But it's leaning… mostly positive. They're curious. Mysterious fiancée, quiet elegance, all that nonsense. Maddox's dinner is trending worldwide. Half the partners think you staged the whole reveal."
I grunted. "Of course they do."
"Do we correct the 'secretary' angle?" Nathan asked. "Or let it ride?"
I thought of Ayla's face last night, the way she said they're saying I'm not good enough. My jaw tightened. "We let it ride. No comments."
"Understood."
When I finally walked into the dining room, Ayla was already there. She sat at the table, hair tied loosely, wearing one of the simple dresses I'd told the team to get her. She looked up as I entered, and for a second, the tension from last night flickered between us.
"Good morning," she said softly.
"Morning." I sat opposite her. Nathan took his usual seat nearby, already buried in calls.
She pushed food around her plate more than she ate. I noticed, but didn't say anything.
Halfway through, she asked, "Will there be more… dinners like that?"
"Yes," I said simply.
She nodded, her eyes falling back to her plate.
I wanted to tell her she'd done better than I expected. But the words stayed locked inside.
Instead, I finished my coffee and stood. "We're leaving in twenty minutes."
Her head lifted. "Leaving?"
"The office."
Her fork froze mid-air. "You mean I'm going with you?"
I looked at her for a moment, then said, "We're engaged. People will expect us to show up together. It has to look normal."
Her lips parted like she hadn't thought of that. She hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Right… of course."
The ride to the office was quieter than usual. Nathan sat in front, scrolling through emails. I sat beside Ayla in the back. She smoothed her hands over her dress, fidgeting, staring out the window at the skyline.
I caught myself watching her reflection in the glass.
"Don't let them rattle you," I said suddenly.
She blinked, turning toward me. "Who?"
"The press, the employees or anyone who thinks you don't belong."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "And what if they're right?"
I held her gaze for a long moment. "They're not."
Her eyes widened, just slightly, like she hadn't expected me to answer that way. She looked away quickly, biting her lip, but the faintest color rose to her cheeks.
Nathan cleared his throat in the front seat, pretending not to hear.
When we stepped out of the car at Lumina Tech, the whispers started immediately.
"Is that… Ayla?"
"The secretary?"
"So it's true, she's with him."
"I didn't think he'd ever bring someone here like that…"
"They actually look… close."
The words weren't loud, but I caught them anyway. Everyone did. Heads turned as we moved through the lobby. Ayla's shoulders stayed square, her chin lifted, though her fingers curled tight around her bag.
I slowed my pace, just enough for her to stay close at my side. Let them watch, let them whisper.
This was only the beginning.