Page 12 of Boss's Red Glare

I force myself to sit down and stare blankly at my monitor, the unread emails blurring together. My mind drifts back to Saturday morning, to Maisie walking into the coffee shop wearing that yellow sundress. The memory sends an uncomfortable wave of heat through my chest. She’d looked so bright and warm, so impossibly sweet. It was almost cruel how effortlessly she’d unsettled me.

“Earth to Connor,” Darren’s voice suddenly interrupts my thoughts, and I startle slightly, quickly composing myself.

Darren leans casually in my doorway, grinning knowingly. “Someone’s awfully distracted this morning.”

“I’m fine,” I reply gruffly, forcing myself back into professionalism. “What do you want?”

He strolls inside, dropping into the chair opposite my desk and studying me carefully. “How’d it go with Maisie?”

“Fine,” I say tightly, trying to keep my tone neutral. But Darren is annoyingly perceptive. He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“Just fine?” He smirks. “Funny, because your expression looks like you’re already planning your honeymoon.”

“Stop it,” I mutter, irritation rising despite my best efforts. “It’s just business.”

“Sure,” he drawls skeptically. “Did she agree to fake-date you?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair, rubbing my temples. “She did.”

Darren’s grin widens triumphantly. “I knew it. Good call, Connor. This is going to be perfect for the barbecue. The investors will eat it up.”

“Glad you approve,” I say dryly.

“Don’t pretend you’re not thrilled.” Darren chuckles, standing and heading toward the door. He pauses, turning back slightly. “Just remember—it doesn’t have to be fake forever.”

I glare at him, but he just waves cheerfully and disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts again. Hiswords linger irritatingly in my mind. It doesn’t have to be fake forever.

I’m still stewing on Darren’s comment when I hear the front door open, and suddenly my pulse quickens. Maisie’s familiar voice greets someone down the hall, laughter drifting lightly toward me. Warm and bright, like sunshine pouring through an open window.

I take a breath and stand, adjusting my tie unnecessarily. Ridiculous. It’s just Maisie—my assistant. But it’s as if that yellow sundress and Saturday’s conversation have irrevocably changed something. I feel oddly nervous as I step into the open office area.

She looks up, catching my eye instantly. She’s wearing a soft blue blouse tucked into a patterned skirt, her hair in loose curls around her shoulders. Her smile falters slightly when she sees me, and her cheeks flush lightly. “Morning, Connor.”

“Good morning, Maisie,” I reply smoothly, forcing a calm confidence I don’t entirely feel. “Can we gather everyone for a quick meeting?”

“Of course.” She nods quickly, immediately moving through the office, gathering everyone. I watch her, heart unreasonably racing again.

A few moments later, the staff clusters around the reception desk, curiosity evident in their gazes. Darren stands near the back, arms crossed, smirking at me knowingly.

I clear my throat, feeling awkward despite years of giving polished presentations. “I wanted to quickly discuss something about the upcoming Fourth of July barbecue. As you all know, we have important investors attending, and it’s vital they seeus as not just business partners, but as a family-oriented, community-driven company.”

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the group, and I catch Maisie’s gaze briefly, feeling a comforting reassurance from her warm, encouraging smile.

I continue, my voice steadier now. “To help present that image convincingly, Maisie has generously agreed to pretend to be my date for the event.”

A stunned silence falls over the office for a second. Then, a sudden burst of excited chatter breaks out. A few employees exchange delighted glances, and I swear I hear Darren chuckle knowingly in the background.

Maisie steps forward slightly, cheeks flushed but smiling brightly. “It’s just a small, harmless bit of theater,” she says lightly, easing the tension. “It’s important for the company.”

Everyone seems to relax, nodding in understanding. A few give me approving smiles, and several tease Maisie good-naturedly, earning more laughter.

“Thank you, everyone,” I say, relieved at the positive reception. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

The group disperses quickly, chattering excitedly among themselves. Maisie pauses beside me, voice soft. “Well, that went better than I expected.”

“It did,” I admit quietly, meeting her eyes. “Thanks again.”

She smiles warmly, lingering just a second longer before heading back to her desk.

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