The client dinner was supposed to be simple. Dress nice, smile, pretend to be the supportive girlfriend while Daniel dazzled the investors with charts and confidence.
Maya could handle that.
She even surprised herself with how natural it felt—resting her hand on his arm, leaning close when he spoke, laughing at his terrible jokes. Daniel's smile never wavered, The client dinner was supposed to be simple. Dress nice, smile, pretend to be the supportive girlfriend while Daniel dazzled the investors with charts and confidence.
Maya could handle that.
She even surprised herself with how natural it felt—resting her hand on his arm, leaning close when he spoke, laughing at his terrible jokes. Daniel's smile never wavered, and for a while, it was almost easy to believe none of this was fake.
Until the moment she overheard him.
They were standing near the bar, Daniel deep in conversation with one of the senior partners, a graying man who clapped him on the back and said with a booming laugh, "Didn't think you were the settling type, Reid. Never saw you as the office-romance guy."
Daniel's jaw tightened. His glass hovered halfway to his lips. Then he smiled smoothly, too smoothly.
"It's just for show," he said. "You know how Caldwell is—likes his people to look stable. Easier this way."
Maya froze.
Just for show.
The words sliced through her chest like broken glass.
She didn't hear the rest of their conversation. Her mind was buzzing too loudly, the warmth of their stolen moments in the office—soy sauce and hand-holding and almost-kisses—suddenly stripped bare, exposed as nothing more than strategy.
She excused herself quietly, barely trusting her voice. Daniel didn't notice. Or maybe he did, and chose not to stop her.
Back at her apartment that night, Maya curled up on the couch, laptop unopened, heart aching. She'd been foolish, letting herself blur the lines. He'd made it clear from the beginning: this was pretend. A performance.
And she had started to believe it could be more.
Clara, of course, noticed immediately the next morning.
"You look like someone ran over your puppy," she said, setting a coffee on Maya's desk. "Spill."
Maya hesitated. She hadn't told Clara about the slip at dinner, but the words bubbled up before she could stop them. "He said it's just for show. That's all this is to him."
Clara's brows shot up. "Ouch. But… are you sure he meant it like that?"
Maya laughed bitterly. "Pretty sure."
Clara leaned on the desk, her expression softening. "Then you need to decide if you can handle pretending. Because if you can't… you have to walk away."
Maya knew she was right. But walking away felt impossible.
Her chance came sooner than expected.
On Monday morning, Caldwell called them both into his office. He was grinning, which was never a good sign.
"I've decided something," he announced, folding his hands. "There's a corporate couples' retreat this weekend. I want you two to represent the company. Show our clients we're a family-friendly place."
Maya's stomach dropped.
A weekend. Alone. With Daniel. Pretending.
Daniel's face didn't betray a single emotion. "Of course, sir. We'd be honored."
Maya nodded numbly, her throat too tight for words.
When they left Caldwell's office, she spun on him. "You could've said no."
Daniel blinked at her. "And risk him thinking we're not… committed? You want that promotion, don't you?"
Her chest tightened. "Right. The promotion."
His eyes flickered, searching her face. "Maya—"
"Save it," she said, her voice sharp, cracking around the edges. "I get it. This is all strategy to you. Just pretend. You don't need to explain."
Before he could answer, she walked away, heart pounding, throat burning with unshed tears.
She'd wanted to believe. God, she'd wanted it so badly.
But hope was a dangerous thing. And she wasn't sure she could survive it breaking again.
Until the moment she overheard him.
They were standing near the bar, Daniel deep in conversation with one of the senior partners, a graying man who clapped him on the back and said with a booming laugh, "Didn't think you were the settling type, Reid. Never saw you as the office-romance guy."
Daniel's jaw tightened. His glass hovered halfway to his lips. Then he smiled smoothly, too smoothly.
"It's just for show," he said. "You know how Caldwell is—likes his people to look stable. Easier this way."
Maya froze.
Just for show.
The words sliced through her chest like broken glass.
She didn't hear the rest of their conversation. Her mind was buzzing too loudly, the warmth of their stolen moments in the office—soy sauce and hand-holding and almost-kisses—suddenly stripped bare, exposed as nothing more than strategy.
She excused herself quietly, barely trusting her voice. Daniel didn't notice. Or maybe he did, and chose not to stop her.
Back at her apartment that night, Maya curled up on the couch, laptop unopened, heart aching. She'd been foolish, letting herself blur the lines. He'd made it clear from the beginning: this was pretend. A performance.
And she had started to believe it could be more.
Clara, of course, noticed immediately the next morning.
"You look like someone ran over your puppy," she said, setting a coffee on Maya's desk. "Spill."
Maya hesitated. She hadn't told Clara about the slip at dinner, but the words bubbled up before she could stop them. "He said it's just for show. That's all this is to him."
Clara's brows shot up. "Ouch. But… are you sure he meant it like that?"
Maya laughed bitterly. "Pretty sure."
Clara leaned on the desk, her expression softening. "Then you need to decide if you can handle pretending. Because if you can't… you have to walk away."
Maya knew she was right. But walking away felt impossible.
Her chance came sooner than expected.
On Monday morning, Caldwell called them both into his office. He was grinning, which was never a good sign.
"I've decided something," he announced, folding his hands. "There's a corporate couples' retreat this weekend. I want you two to represent the company. Show our clients we're a family-friendly place."
Maya's stomach dropped.
A weekend. Alone. With Daniel. Pretending.
Daniel's face didn't betray a single emotion. "Of course, sir. We'd be honored."
Maya nodded numbly, her throat too tight for words.
When they left Caldwell's office, she spun on him. "You could've said no."
Daniel blinked at her. "And risk him thinking we're not… committed? You want that promotion, don't you?"
Her chest tightened. "Right. The promotion."
His eyes flickered, searching her face. "Maya—"
"Save it," she said, her voice sharp, cracking around the edges. "I get it. This is all strategy to you. Just pretend. You don't need to explain."
Before he could answer, she walked away, heart pounding, throat burning with unshed tears.
She'd wanted to believe. God, she'd wanted it so badly.But hope was a dangerous thing. And she wasn't sure she could survive it breaking again.
client dinner was supposed to be simple. Dress nice, smile, pretend to be the supportive girlfriend while Daniel dazzled the investors with charts and confidence.
Maya could handle that.
She even surprised herself with how natural it felt—resting her hand on his arm, leaning close when he spoke, laughing at his terrible jokes. Daniel's smile never wavered, The client dinner was supposed to be simple. Dress nice, smile, pretend to be the supportive girlfriend while Daniel dazzled the investors with charts and confidence.
Maya could handle that.
She even surprised herself with how natural it felt—resting her hand on his arm, leaning close when he spoke, laughing at his terrible jokes. Daniel's smile never wavered, and for a while, it was almost easy to believe none of this was fake.
Until the moment she overheard him.
They were standing near the bar, Daniel deep in conversation with one of the senior partners, a graying man who clapped him on the back and said with a booming laugh, "Didn't think you were the settling type, Reid. Never saw you as the office-romance guy."
Daniel's jaw tightened. His glass hovered halfway to his lips. Then he smiled smoothly, too smoothly.
"It's just for show," he said. "You know how Caldwell is—likes his people to look stable. Easier this way."
Maya froze.
Just for show.
The words sliced through her chest like broken glass.
She didn't hear the rest of their conversation. Her mind was buzzing too loudly, the warmth of their stolen moments in the office—soy sauce and hand-holding and almost-kisses—suddenly stripped bare, exposed as nothing more than strategy.
She excused herself quietly, barely trusting her voice. Daniel didn't notice. Or maybe he did, and chose not to stop her.
Back at her apartment that night, Maya curled up on the couch, laptop unopened, heart aching. She'd been foolish, letting herself blur the lines. He'd made it clear from the beginning: this was pretend. A performance.
And she had started to believe it could be more.
Clara, of course, noticed immediately the next morning.
"You look like someone ran over your puppy," she said, setting a coffee on Maya's desk. "Spill."
Maya hesitated. She hadn't told Clara about the slip at dinner, but the words bubbled up before she could stop them. "He said it's just for show. That's all this is to him."
Clara's brows shot up. "Ouch. But… are you sure he meant it like that?"
Maya laughed bitterly. "Pretty sure."
Clara leaned on the desk, her expression softening. "Then you need to decide if you can handle pretending. Because if you can't… you have to walk away."
Maya knew she was right. But walking away felt impossible.
Her chance came sooner than expected.
On Monday morning, Caldwell called them both into his office. He was grinning, which was never a good sign.
"I've decided something," he announced, folding his hands. "There's a corporate couples' retreat this weekend. I want you two to represent the company. Show our clients we're a family-friendly place."
Maya's stomach dropped.
A weekend. Alone. With Daniel. Pretending.
Daniel's face didn't betray a single emotion. "Of course, sir. We'd be honored."
Maya nodded numbly, her throat too tight for words.
When they left Caldwell's office, she spun on him. "You could've said no."
Daniel blinked at her. "And risk him thinking we're not… committed? You want that promotion, don't you?"
Her chest tightened. "Right. The promotion."
His eyes flickered, searching her face. "Maya—"
"Save it," she said, her voice sharp, cracking around the edges. "I get it. This is all strategy to you. Just pretend. You don't need to explain."
Before he could answer, she walked away, heart pounding, throat burning with unshed tears.
She'd wanted to believe. God, she'd wanted it so badly.
But hope was a dangerous thing. And she wasn't sure she could survive it breaking again.
Until the moment she overheard him.
They were standing near the bar, Daniel deep in conversation with one of the senior partners, a graying man who clapped him on the back and said with a booming laugh, "Didn't think you were the settling type, Reid. Never saw you as the office-romance guy."
Daniel's jaw tightened. His glass hovered halfway to his lips. Then he smiled smoothly, too smoothly.
"It's just for show," he said. "You know how Caldwell is—likes his people to look stable. Easier this way."
Maya froze.
Just for show.
The words sliced through her chest like broken glass.
She didn't hear the rest of their conversation. Her mind was buzzing too loudly, the warmth of their stolen moments in the office—soy sauce and hand-holding and almost-kisses—suddenly stripped bare, exposed as nothing more than strategy.
She excused herself quietly, barely trusting her voice. Daniel didn't notice. Or maybe he did, and chose not to stop her.
Back at her apartment that night, Maya curled up on the couch, laptop unopened, heart aching. She'd been foolish, letting herself blur the lines. He'd made it clear from the beginning: this was pretend. A performance.
And she had started to believe it could be more.
Clara, of course, noticed immediately the next morning.
"You look like someone ran over your puppy," she said, setting a coffee on Maya's desk. "Spill."
Maya hesitated. She hadn't told Clara about the slip at dinner, but the words bubbled up before she could stop them. "He said it's just for show. That's all this is to him."
Clara's brows shot up. "Ouch. But… are you sure he meant it like that?"
Maya laughed bitterly. "Pretty sure."
Clara leaned on the desk, her expression softening. "Then you need to decide if you can handle pretending. Because if you can't… you have to walk away."
Maya knew she was right. But walking away felt impossible.
Her chance came sooner than expected.
On Monday morning, Caldwell called them both into his office. He was grinning, which was never a good sign.
"I've decided something," he announced, folding his hands. "There's a corporate couples' retreat this weekend. I want you two to represent the company. Show our clients we're a family-friendly place."
Maya's stomach dropped.
A weekend. Alone. With Daniel. Pretending.
Daniel's face didn't betray a single emotion. "Of course, sir. We'd be honored."
Maya nodded numbly, her throat too tight for words.
When they left Caldwell's office, she spun on him. "You could've said no."
Daniel blinked at her. "And risk him thinking we're not… committed? You want that promotion, don't you?"
Her chest tightened. "Right. The promotion."
His eyes flickered, searching her face. "Maya—"
"Save it," she said, her voice sharp, cracking around the edges. "I get it. This is all strategy to you. Just pretend. You don't need to explain."
Before he could answer, she walked away, heart pounding, throat burning with unshed tears.
She'd wanted to believe. God, she'd wanted it so badly.But hope was a dangerous thing. And she wasn't sure she could survive it breaking again.
retreat was at a lakeside resort two hours out of the city. The kind of place with pine trees, polished cabins, and too many team-building activities involving ropes and awkward trust falls.
For Maya, it felt like walking into a trap. Every smile she forced, every hand Daniel brushed against hers, was another reminder of what wasn't real.
By the second night, she was exhausted.
Dinner was held in a grand hall overlooking the lake, fairy lights strung across the rafters. Couples laughed over wineglasses, executives clinked forks against plates, and Daniel sat beside her, his presence too big, too warm, too dangerous.
She pushed her food around her plate, avoiding his eyes.
"Maya," he said quietly, so only she could hear.
"Don't," she whispered back.
His jaw clenched, but he didn't press.
When the speeches began, she slipped out onto the balcony, hugging her arms against the chill. The lake shimmered silver in the moonlight. She breathed in the pine air, willing her heart to slow.
The sliding door opened.
"Maya."
She didn't turn. "Shouldn't you be inside charming Caldwell?"
"Forget Caldwell." His voice was rougher than she'd ever heard it. "We need to talk."
She let out a hollow laugh. "About what? About how I'm just a convenient prop? A good little story for the office?"
Silence. Then footsteps, and he was beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers.
"That's not what I meant the other night," he said. His eyes searched her face, desperate. "Yes, I told Howard it was for show. Because that's what he expected. He would've torn it apart otherwise. But that's not how I feel. Not about you."
Her chest tightened. "Daniel—"
"I was an idiot," he cut in, voice low and fierce. "I thought if I kept it professional, if I pretended it was just strategy, I wouldn't risk… this." His hand lifted, hovered near hers, trembling. "But somewhere between your coffee stains and your sarcasm and the way you make every damn spreadsheet feel like it matters—I fell for you."
The world tilted.
Her throat went dry, words tangled somewhere between disbelief and longing. "You… fell for me?"
He gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Hard. And I'm terrible at saying it, because I've never let myself want something that much before."
Her heart hammered, fragile and fierce. All the walls she'd built around herself, all the doubts—cracking under the weight of his words.
She reached for his hand, their fingers tangling, warm and real. "You're not the only idiot," she whispered. "I was so sure it was one-sided. That I was just convenient."
Daniel's breath caught, relief flashing across his face.
And then, finally, he kissed her.
It wasn't careful, or rehearsed, or for anyone else's benefit. It was messy and aching and real. The kind of kiss that stripped away every pretense, every memo, every strategy, leaving nothing but truth.
When they broke apart, foreheads resting together, Maya laughed softly, tears stinging her eyes. "So… what now?"
He smiled, tender and certain. "Now we stop pretending."
---
On Monday morning, they walked into the office hand in hand. Caldwell raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Clara took one look at them and grinned so
wide it nearly split her face.
Maya didn't care about the whispers, or the knowing smiles. For once, the office politics didn't matter.
What mattered was Daniel's hand warm in hers, the quiet certainty in his eyes, and the knowledge that somewhere between fake memos and staged dates, they'd stumbled into something real.
Something worth keeping.