Page 30 of Most Likely to Deny Love

Her smile vanished instantly, regret washing over her features. “I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me.” She shook her head, reaching across the table as if to touch my hand before thinking better of it. “I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

The genuine concern in her eyes made something in my chest loosen slightly. “It’s fine.” She was still watching me carefully. “Really.

We returned to work, the silence between us more comfortable than before. I found myself stealing glances at her as she typed, noticing the furrow of concentration between her brows, the way she occasionally bit her lower lip when puzzling through a problem.

She was absolutely gorgeous. I’d thought so from the moment I’d laid eyes on her, walking into Catalyst in her crisp suit, hair pulled back in a high ponytail, laughing at something Emily had said. A dream. That’s what she was.

“Are you serious about hiring an escort?” The question escaped before I could think better of it.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide and cheeks flushing with color. “What? No, of course not.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture I’d come to recognize. “Besides the fact that it’s just a stupid joke, I’d have to hire him to attend more than one family event for it to be convincing. I don’t have that kind of cash, no matter how satisfying it would be.”

I studied her for a moment. “Do you really think it would help?”

Mia sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes,” she admitted, the strain obvious. “Because right now, my mom is relentless about it. I’m trying so hard not to let it get to me, but it’s too much.” She looked down at her hands. “The constant texts, the setup attempts, it’s fucking exhausting. I know it’s stupid. I’ll be fine. I just have to get through the next six months, until the wedding. After that, my mom will back off... at least about this particular thing.”

The resignation in her voice, the way she’d already accepted months more of this treatment, hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t reconcile the confident sales manager who ran circles around Porter with the woman who sat across from me now, bracing herself for months of emotional abuse from her own family.

An idea formed in my mind, so wildly inappropriate that I immediately tried to dismiss it. But once the thought took hold, I couldn’t shake it loose. It was unprofessional. Unethical, even. There were a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t even consider it.

But the memory of her huddled on the floor, struggling to breathe because of a text from her mother, burned through all those reasons like acid.

I looked at her now, her eyes downcast, shoulders curved inward as if preparing for another blow. This wasn’t just about her comfort at a wedding. This was about her mental health, her sense of self-worth. The words formed before I could fully consider the ramifications of what I was about to offer.

“I could do it.”

Mia looked up, confusion crossing her features. “Do what?”

“Be your date.” The words shimmered in the air between us, impossible to take back now that they’d been spoken. “For the wedding. And whatever other events.”

Her eyes widened, lips parting in shock. “What?”

“It makes sense.” I tried to sound logical, as if this was a straightforward business proposition rather than a wildly inappropriate suggestion. “Your family would stop pressuring you. You wouldn’t have to worry about being set up with strangers. And I’m...” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m reasonably presentable.”

A strangled sound escaped her throat, something between a laugh and a gasp. “Reasonably presentable? Jack, you look like you walked off the cover of GQ.” The moment the words left her mouth, a blush spread across her cheeks. “I mean, you’re... you know what I mean.”

Her flustered response made something warm curl around my heart, but I kept my expression neutral. “The point is, I could help. If you wanted.”

“That’s completely insane.” She shook her head, looking bewildered. “You’re my boss.”

“Outside of work, I’m just a person.” I leaned forward slightly. “A person who doesn’t like seeing you hurt.”

Her gray eyes searched mine, looking for some joke or hidden agenda. “Why would you do this?”

The question was fair. Logical. But I wasn’t sure I could give her the full truth without revealing more than I was ready to acknowledge, even to myself.

“Because I understand what it’s like,” I said finally. “To have family that makes you feel like you’re never enough.”

Something shifted in her expression, a recognition passing between us.

“Besides,” I added, trying to lighten the moment, “your mother sounds like she needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

Her lips curved in a half smile, and I found myself fixating on them. “So what exactly are you suggesting? That my ultra-successful, absurdly handsome boss pretends to be my boyfriend for the next six months?”

“If that would help, yes.”

She stared at me, her smile fading as she realized I was completely serious. “Jack, that’s...” she trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

“Inappropriate?” I supplied. “Unprofessional? Crossing about a hundred HR boundaries?”

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