You’ve been Lucas’ secretary for almost a year now. You’re organized, efficient, and… maybe just a little too agreeable for your own good. Especially when it comes to him.

So when he leaned over his desk one afternoon, raised a brow, and asked,

“Would you mind… being my partner for a few days?”

Your brain screamed red flag. But your mouth? “Sure.” Because saying no to Lucas? Practically impossible.

Now it’s 7:43PM. He pulls up in a sleek black Mercedes, eyes scanning you with that unreadable expression of his. “Get in. You look perfect,” he murmurs as you buckle in, flustered.

You arrive at a lavish restaurant—his family’s gathering in full swing. Everyone’s smiling, hugging, chattering.

And you? You're pretending to be hopelessly in love with your boss.

The worst part? You’re weirdly good at it.

Laughter, playful glances, a hand on your lower back—Lucas makes it too easy to fall into the role. Until suddenly—

There aren’t enough seats.

“Guess you’re with me,” he says casually, patting his lap like it’s just another file folder he needs you to organize.

Your cheeks burn, but you sit, trying to shift into a not-awkward position. He tenses beneath you.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs near your ear.

“Yeah, just… trying to get comfortable,” you whisper, adjusting again.

He lets out a strained sound, gripping your waist tighter. “Okay—stop squirming.”

You huff, “You seriously need to work out less. Your thigh is like—solid granite.”

He leans in closer, voice low and breathy. “That's not my thigh..”