Page 91 of The Boss Situation

“Oh, I know,” she says, walking toward the door. “I want sushi soon.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

“You are going to the gala this weekend, right?”

I nod. “Shit, yes. I need to let Weston know.”

“You were supposed to RSVP by last week,” she reminds me.

“It’s Weston. He’ll make an exception.”

The next few hours are hectic. The two pictures that Asher posted of us have gone so mega viral that Perez Hilton is now covering my alleged relationships. The palace wants answers, but Louis has denied everything, calling this a media setup by his firm to twist the narrative

At some point, Louis won’t be able to continue doing that because right now, no one believes him. We might have another week of this charade, at best.

My assistant has worked overtime to handle the inquiries regarding my relationship status. I’m spiraling, realizing how muchof a toll this attention is taking. Every twenty minutes, I spin in my chair, checking if Banks has arrived. He hasn’t.

A looming feeling hangs over me, and I’m trying to ignore it. If I had his number, I’d text him, but I can’t ask anyone for it. Not even him. It would confirm too much, and he’d never allow me to live it down. It’s not a conversation I’m dying to have with anyone either, not even myself.

I go to Harper’s office and peek my head inside. “I think I’m going out for lunch.”

She’s on the phone, and she waves me inside. I sit in front of her desk.

“No comment,” she says.

A moment later, the call ends.

“Your fake relationship with Louis is one headline away from exploding after Asher posted that photo,” she confirms. “My phone has?—”

It rings.

She unplugs it and returns her attention to me. “Silence,” she sighs. “Finally. How are you holding up?”

I shake my head. “I’m at my limit.”

Harper can read me so easily, but that happens when you’ve had the same best friend since you were five years old. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go home, have a nice hot bubble bath, draw some on your iPad,” she suggests.

“Maybe I will,” I tell her.

“It’s an order. Being here, surrounded by this, isn’t productive. You’re on the brink of something monumental, bestie. I canfeelit,” she says.

Harper is very intuitive. She has been known to make love prophecies and predict things before they happen.

“I really hope you’re right.”

“I am. Ialwaysam,” she confirms. “Now, go relax. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stand. “Thank you for being the best business partner and friend I could ever have.”

“Right back at you,” she says, waving me away. She plugs her phone back in, and it immediately rings.

I leave her office, feeling like a tangled ball of yarn, knowing things are a mess. As soon as I leave the building, paps are on me. I hail a cab and climb in. Before we pull away, the door opens and closes.

When I glance over, I see Nick.

He gives me a boyish grin, looking at me with the same expression Asher wears sometimes. “What a surprise.”

“You can say that again,” I mutter.

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