Emma's POV: I paused and took a steadying breath before knocking on my boss's office door, unsure what kind of mood I'd be facing today. "Who is it?" His sharp reply gave me all the answer I needed. "It's Emma," I replied. "Sorry. Come in." He sighed, voice softening. I eased the door open and stepped inside his office. He stood with his back to me, eyes fixed on the city skyline beyond the window. I crossed the room toward his desk, the sound of my heels echoing in the quiet space. He finally turned his chair around to face me. The exhaustion on his face said everything. He looked like he hadn't slept, probably out drinking again, the way he'd started doing after his life turned upside down. He used to be so different. Everything changed about six months ago, after his wife left him for someone he barely even knew. Since then, nothing about him had been the same. "How are you feeling today? Is there anything I can get for you?" I asked. "You know, just the usual misery on a new day. Coffee and some painkillers would be a good place to start," he responded. "Of course, sir." I managed a gentle smile. I was just about to leave his office and get what he'd asked for when his voice stopped me at the door. "Emma, have you ever had your heart broken?" he asked. I turned back to him slowly. He looked so defeated, all the old confidence gone. There was a time when he used to light up every room, laughing loud, never short on charm. Now, he only seemed empty, drifting from one meaningless night to the next. The hope he used to carry had faded, replaced by something heavy and dark. "Yes," I answered quietly. "How did you get over it?" he asked. "I don't think I ever really did. You just figure out how to live with it. I hope you'll meet someone who can take that pain away, even if it feels impossible right now," I muttered. "That's not very encouraging." He let out a heavy sigh, fingers pushing through his dark hair. "Unfortunately, it's just part of life, sir," I replied softly. "I guess you're right. Anyway, that's all. You can go now." His voice was flat, emotionless. I nodded and stepped out, heading to the staff room to get his coffee. The other assistants were gathered around, giggling as they gossiped about Mr. Simmons. "Was he any good? I've heard he's amazing in bed," Brenda Martel asked, flashing a sly grin. "Oh, he's excellent," Eloisa Jones said with a laugh. I rolled my eyes at their conversation. They acted like he was some kind of prize, but he needed to pay attention to his work, not keep wrecking things for himself. I might have been the only one in the building who never looked at him that way. To me, he was just my boss, and I was here to do my job. Sure, he was handsome—gorgeous, even—but getting involved would be wrong. I left the break room without saying a word, like always. I didn't really talk to the others or get involved in their games. Most days, I spent all my time with Mr. Simmons, handling whatever he needed. When I returned to his office, I knocked lightly and waited for permission to enter. He was already on the phone when I came in. I set his coffee and painkillers on his desk and started to head out, but he reached out and motioned for me to wait. "Okay, Mom, I'll be there." He let out a long sigh, rolling his eyes before ending the call. Then he turned his attention to me. "Emma, can you sit for a moment? I need to talk to you about something," he said, his voice more serious than before. I took a seat across from him, trying to hide my nerves. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on me in a way that felt almost searching. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked quietly, worry creeping in. "No, it's not that. I need a favor. You've been working with me for two years now, right?" he questioned. I nodded, keeping my gaze steady. "We work well together, don't we?" he continued, and I nodded again. "There's a level of trust between us, right?" "Yes, of course," I replied, feeling the weight of whatever he was about to say hanging in the air between us. "I need to ask you a big favor," he said, and for a second, his voice wavered. He seemed almost nervous about whatever he was about to ask. "A favor? What sort of favor?" I asked, curiosity mixing with confusion. "I need you to be my date for the Gala on Saturday," he said, blurting it out like he wanted to get it over with. His date? Did he really just ask me to be his date? I blinked, not sure I'd heard him right. "Your date? Why me? You have plenty of other employees who'd be thrilled to go with you," I replied, struggling to hide my surprise. "That's exactly why I'm asking you. You're not like the others. You don't look at me the way they do. I need someone who isn't trying to seduce me, someone I won't end up in bed with by the end of the night. Just one night, Emma. All I'm asking is that you pretend to be my girlfriend so my mother will stop bothering me about settling down. Besides, Leona Blakely's going to be there with her husband, and I'm tired of showing up to these things alone. You know how people talk. I know what they say behind my back," he explained. "You know she can't stand me, right? Leona, I mean?" I said. It was the truth—she had disliked me from the first day. She'd even tried to have Mr. Simmons fire me, and I'd never understood why. I was the only one who'd never even looked at him that way. "I know. That's actually another reason I want you there. It'll get under her skin," he replied, his lips curving in a wry smile. "I never understood what her problem was. She's always hated me, but I never gave her a reason." "She was jealous, Emma. She convinced herself that you were the one woman who could pull me away from her, the one who'd make me have an affair," he said. "Why would she think that? Anyone could see you loved her more than anything. You treated her like she was the only one in the world. Why would she even imagine you'd have an affair, and with me of all people? I was never interested in you that way," I remarked. "Because you're more beautiful and more elegant than anyone else here. And we spent so much time together. You saw me as much as she did," he said, his voice dropping a little. I heard the strain in his words when he talked about her. I would never understand how she could leave him after everything he did for her. He gave her all his love and loyalty, and she still walked away for someone who wasn't even half the man he was. I had nothing against the new man, but Brandon was on a different level— not just in looks, but in every possible way. "Anyway. About this Gala party—would you do me the favor and come with me?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Mr. Simmons, I really don't know if that's a good idea." "Please, Emma? You're the only person here I actually trust. It's just for one night. Can't you do that for me? Just one night?" he pleaded. I wanted to turn him down, but there was something in his eyes—a mix of hope and desperation—that made me pause. "Alright, just for one night." I agreed quietly. "Thank you, Emma. I owe you one," he replied, the weight in his voice lifting just a little as he managed a small smile. "Yes, it really is." "How about dinner?" he asked. I shot him a questioning look, unsure what he meant by that. "It's just a thank you, nothing else. I promise." He laughed, sensing my hesitation. "Alright, just let me know when and where," I stammered, returning his smile. "How about tonight, eight o'clock, at Leonardo's—the little Italian place?" he suggested. "Sure, that's fine with me. I should get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else, sir," I muttered, standing up. "I will. Thanks again, Emma." He smiled warmly. I nodded and stepped out, heading back to my desk, knowing I still had a pile of work to get through. If anyone saw Mr. Simmons and me together outside of work twice in one week, it would only fuel the rumors. I just hoped agreeing to dinner wouldn't make things harder for me around here.

Emma's POV: Before leaving, I paused to check my reflection in the mirror. Satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my keys and headed out to the car, ready to meet Brandon. I wore my favorite red top with a pair of jeans and slipped on some high heels. My hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. I didn't want to overdress and send the wrong message, but I didn't want to look too casual either. Getting to the restaurant didn't take long. Even though Brandon offered to pick me up, I told him we should just meet there. Anything else would have felt too much like a real date, and that wasn't the impression I wanted to give. "Hello, ma'am, do you need a table?" the receptionist asked with a warm smile as soon as I walked in. "Someone is already waiting for me. Mr. Simmons," I said, smiling. "Of course, he let us know you'd be joining him. Right this way." She smiled. "Thank you," I responded, matching her smile. She led me through the main dining area to the back, where the booths were tucked away in a quieter, more private space. It had a VIP feel— exactly the kind of place Brandon would choose. He was already there, sitting back with a glass of whiskey, scrolling through his phone, probably buried in work emails as usual. "Good evening," I said, catching his attention with a smile. As he looked my way, he took a long moment to study me from head to toe. His tongue slipped across his bottom lip, and it seemed he was completely unaware of the habit. When he finally settled his gaze on me, a slow smile appeared. "Good evening, Emma, you look beautiful tonight," he said, his tone warm and gentle. My cheeks turned warm at his compliment, and I gave him a small nod as I thanked him. He looked as handsome as ever. I had always seen him dressed in sharp suits, so it felt odd to find him in jeans and a simple shirt. After I thanked the receptionist, I walked into the booth and faced him. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked. "I'll just have water. I'm driving tonight, so I can't drink." I smiled. "That's a smart choice," he said, letting out a laugh. A server came by, took our drink orders, and brought them back a few minutes later before leaving the two of us alone. I could not ignore the uneasy feeling that crept in. Honestly, I had spent countless moments alone with him before. This time, though, felt completely different. We were not at work, and there was nothing professional about this meeting at all. Brandon took a slow sip of his whiskey, then looked over at me. "Do you have a dress for the Gala?" he asked. "I have a few dresses, but nothing that would work for an event like this. I'll find something," I replied with a small smile. "That's unnecessary. I'll pick one out and have it sent to you," he responded, grinning. "You have no idea what size I wear or what style I like." I laughed. "Size 38," he answered, giving me a confident wink. How did he even know that? "How do you know my size?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "I can tell just by looking at you," he muttered, giving me a playful wink. "Honestly, your curves make it pretty easy to guess." I laughed and shook my head, feeling my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. He must have taken the time to really notice my figure if he knew my size that easily. The idea left me both amused and a little uneasy. Had he actually been paying that much attention? "Were you checking me out?" I asked, raising my brows and trying not to smile. "Yes, of course. Come on, Emma. I might be your boss, but I'm still a man. I notice beautiful women, and I notice their bodies, just like anyone else would. But honestly, it's only been in the last two months, after Darcy left," he added. I shook my head and nervously bit my lower lip. His eyes were on me in a way that felt different from before. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and glanced away. I let out a quiet breath, feeling a bit unsettled since I was not used to this side of him. He was not joking like he always did. He was truly flirting with me, and I had no idea what to do about it. "So, tell me, do you like red or black? And what about the length—would you rather wear something that hits at mid-thigh or do you want it to fall to your knees?" He leaned forward, shifting back to the topic of the dress. "You really don't have to go out of your way. I'll pick out something myself. Buying a dress for me is not necessary," I answered, trying to sound light. "Emma, don't make this difficult. You're doing me a favor by going with me. The least I can do is make sure you have something special to wear. Please, just answer the question for me." His voice took on a firmer edge. I knew there was no point in trying to talk him out of this. I had known him long enough to realize that once he decided on something, he was not going to budge. I rolled my eyes and pouted a little, which only made him laugh. "I'm still waiting for an answer, Emma," he said with a grin. "Fine. I like red, and I'd rather have the dress at mid-thigh length. Thank you," I stammered, glancing at him. "No need to thank me. This is just my way of showing how much I appreciate you helping me out," he remarked, still smiling. "Now, are you ready to order some food?" I shook my head and picked up the menu, pretending to study it for a moment. After Brandon and I placed our orders with the waiter, we picked up the conversation again. "If Darcy asks about us, just tell her we've been seeing each other casually for a few weeks," he muttered, lowering his voice. Seeing each other for a few weeks? I had thought this whole thing was just to get under her skin for one night. "Why would you want me to say that? And what exactly do you mean by 'seeing each other casually'?" I asked, frowning. "If we just say you're my date for the evening, she'll figure out the real reason I brought you. When I say 'seeing each other casually,' I mean going out together, hooking up—casual sex," he answered, almost too matter-of-factly. Was this really just going to be a web of lies? "Are you serious right now? What am I supposed to say if she flat out asks me? Should I just admit that you and I are sleeping together?" I blurted, instantly regretting the words as my face went hot. "Exactly," he said, giving me a mischievous wink. "Who knew you had such a dirty mouth, Emma?" His voice carried a teasing, almost wicked edge. "Oh, just be quiet. But fine, I'll play along." I laughed as I shook my head. "Thank you," he replied, flashing me a wide grin. Brandon went over all the details I needed for the Gala that weekend, making sure I understood exactly what to expect. He made it sound like it would actually be a fun night, and for a moment, I forgot about all the lying. Even so, I could not help but feel nervous. I had never gone to an event like this as a guest. Every time I attended something similar, it was always because I was working for him, making sure everything ran smoothly. The thought of just relaxing and having people wait on me felt unfamiliar. I also knew there would be people whispering and staring, because everyone would recognize exactly who I was. How predictable. The boss and the assistant. Maybe agreeing to this had not been the best decision after all. But it was too late for second thoughts, and backing out now would only make things worse.

Emma's POV: "I thought I needed to go home. I definitely drank too much tonight." Brandon tried to laugh, but his words slurred together. Dinner ended and we found ourselves wandering into a dim bar just a few doors down. Brandon ordered glass after glass of whiskey and beer. I stayed with water and a couple of fruity drinks that did not have any alcohol. "You know what, you might actually be right." I laughed. "Come on. Let's get you home." "Oh, this is going to be something to remember." He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "That is not what I meant," I replied, laughing as I stood up. Brandon rolled his eyes and tried to get to his feet, but he swayed and nearly lost his balance. I grabbed his arm before he could stumble and kept him upright. Walking him to the car took patience and a firm grip, but I managed it without either of us taking a fall. I helped him into the passenger seat and then climbed in behind the wheel. "So, where do you live?" I asked, glancing over at him. I had never been to his place, so I had no idea where to go. Brandon got quiet and tapped his chin with his finger. I could not help but laugh as he struggled to remember his own address. There was something amusing about watching him try so hard. After a few minutes, he finally blurted it out. I knew he was going to regret tonight in the morning. I typed the address into my GPS and started driving, following the route. The ride felt twice as long as usual, made heavier by the silence between us. When we finally pulled up, I stared at the house, taken aback. The place looked incredible. The house stretched out behind tall hedges and a wide driveway, much too big for just one person to live in, if anyone asked me. I pulled up to the garage and parked. Then I got out and circled the car to help him. "Emma, what do you think you're doing?" He laughed, reaching out and tapping my nose with his finger. "I'm making sure your drunk self actually makes it home," I muttered, laughing along with him. "Oh. Alright then. You need to get my keys. They're right there." He pointed at his jeans pocket. I paused, not thrilled about fishing around in his pocket, but there really was not another option. He was way too drunk to handle it on his own. I sighed and slipped my hand into his pocket, feeling around until I touched the cold metal of his keys. I closed my fingers around the keys and felt the cool metal press into my palm. "It's a little more to the left," he stammered, flashing a sly, mischievous grin that left no doubt about what he really meant. I shot him a look, knowing exactly what he was up to, and pulled my hand out of his pocket as quickly as I could with the keys in tow. He turned to me and pouted like a sulking child. "You're really no fun tonight," he responded, crossing his arms over his chest in mock annoyance. "Brandon, get your drunk self inside," I blurted with a chuckle. "Stop acting like a total pervert." "I'm your boss, you do remember that, don't you, Miss Emma?" He tried to sound stern, but that lopsided grin ruined any chance of him being taken seriously. "Keep moving," I instructed, pointing at the front door and laughing under my breath. Brandon stuck his tongue out and pushed off the car, wobbling like a kid trying out his legs for the first time, nearly tripping over his own shoes. I never would have guessed he'd turn out to be this kind of drunk, but I had to admit, he was making the whole night more entertaining. I walked behind him, then darted ahead to open the door before he could try to handle it himself. "Nice view," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. I pretended not to notice, chalking it up to the whiskey and beer. I swung the door open and helped him inside, feeling along the wall for a light switch. When I finally found it and the room filled with light, my eyes grew wide at what I saw. "Wow..." He really knew how to decorate. The place looked incredible, and I had only seen the hallway and part of the living room. I glanced around and noticed some framed photos on a nearby table. He still kept pictures of himself and Darcy, including a few from their wedding day. They both looked amazing in those photos. They looked happy, and for a second, my chest tightened for him. He clearly was not ready to let go of that chapter, and honestly, I could not blame him. He probably thought she would be his forever, that he would spend the rest of his life with her. "I need a drink," he said, pulling away from me and weaving down the hall. I stayed close, worried he might trip over his own feet. He wandered into a room that had been converted into a home bar. He headed right for the shelves, but before he could grab anything, I caught his arm and held him back. "What you really need is coffee and water. You still have work in the morning, remember?" I retorted. He turned slowly, shooting me a look that made it clear he did not appreciate the advice. "Yes, mom," he answered, full of sarcasm. "Where's the kitchen?" I asked, determined to save him from himself. "Over there," he replied, pointing vaguely toward the doorway we had come through just a few minutes earlier. That did not help at all. I realized I would have to find it myself. I looped my arm through his and kept him close, steering him away from the bottles on the shelves. After about ten minutes of wandering around that enormous house, I finally stumbled into the kitchen.