1.

The air in Logan Harrington’s office felt heavier than usual, buzzing with a strange, almost tangible tension. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, splashing golden light across the marble floor and bathing the room in a glow that somehow made his expression seem more formidable. His sleek mahogany desk was pristine as ever, but the man himself exuded an intensity that made my stomach knot.

Logan Harrington. Billionaire, CEO, and the man who could command entire industries with a flick of his wrist. He was staring at me with a mixture of impatience and something unreadable in those dark eyes, making my heart skip a beat. I’d worked for him for three years, but the effect he had on me hadn’t faded one bit.

“Claire.” His voice, smooth yet commanding, sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t fear—though Logan could be intimidating—but something else entirely. Something I didn’t like to acknowledge.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington.” I stepped forward, clutching the thick folder I’d spent all morning preparing. My heels clicked against the marble, echoing in the spacious office. “I’ve got the agenda for today’s—”

He interrupted, his tone clipped. “Forget the agenda. We have a serious problem.”

I faltered, momentarily thrown. Logan’s focus had always been his company, Harrington Enterprises, so to hear him mention a problem sent a fresh wave of nerves racing through me. “What kind of problem?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

His jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his leather chair, hands steepled together. “My ex-fiancée is back in town.”

Ah. That would explain the grim set of his mouth and the darkness clouding his eyes. Everyone in the office knew about the infamous ex-fiancée who had left a trail of chaos behind when she’d called off their engagement. The tabloids had a field day with the drama, painting Logan as everything from a scorned lover to a ruthless businessman. It had nearly cost him his inheritance. I stayed silent, unsure where this was going.

“She’s claiming I’m unfit to run the company,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave. “And she’s determined to drag my reputation through the mud.”

I swallowed, anxiety building in my chest. “That sounds... messy,” I managed. “But what does that have to do with me?”

He stood then, a fluid motion that made me take a step back. Logan had a way of commanding a room, of pulling all the air toward him like some sort of gravitational force. He crossed the space between us, stopping just close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne—crisp and intoxicating.

“I need you to pretend to be my mistress,” he said bluntly, as if he’d just asked me to fetch him coffee.

My mouth fell open. “I’m sorry—what?”

His lips twitched, the hint of a smile that never reached his eyes. “A distraction,” he explained, his voice calm and calculating. “The board needs to see that I’m stable, committed. Nothing sends a clearer message than a serious, public relationship.”

I shook my head, the absurdity of it all making me dizzy. “And you think... pretending to have a mistress will help?”

Logan’s gaze never wavered. “Not just a mistress. You. The woman who’s worked by my side for years, trusted and respected. The press will eat it up, and my ex will lose any credibility she thinks she has.”

I couldn’t breathe. The room felt smaller, suffocating. “But—Logan, this is crazy,” I whispered. “I’m your assistant, not an actress. And... isn’t there someone else who could—”

“No one else,” he interrupted, his voice turning softer, almost persuasive. “You’re the only one I trust to pull this off.”

Trust. The word sank deep, complicating the riot of emotions I was feeling. I searched his eyes, looking for a hint of doubt, but found none. His intensity only made it worse. My mind spun with questions and concerns. How far would we have to go? How real would this charade have to feel? And most importantly, how would I protect myself from the undeniable pull he had on me?

“What would this... arrangement entail?” I asked, my voice small.

Logan’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Public displays of affection,” he said, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips. “Appearances at events, dinners. And interviews, if needed. Enough to convince the world that you’re more than just my assistant.”

I felt heat flood my face. “So... we’d have to pretend to be... intimate?”

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something that made my heart race. “Convincingly so,” he murmured. “But it’s all just a game of make-believe, Claire. You can handle that, can’t you?”

The challenge in his voice stung, but my pulse betrayed me, hammering away with a mix of fear and something dangerously close to anticipation. “And if it doesn’t work?” I countered, trying to keep my voice steady. “If your ex isn’t convinced?”

Logan’s smile widened, a devilish, almost playful smirk. “Then we make them believe harder,” he said, his voice a low promise.

The air between us crackled, and I realized then how easily lines could blur. How pretending could start to feel real, and how dangerous that would be for me. Yet, even as logic screamed at me to refuse, I felt the pull of the impossible, the whisper of what if.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice breaking under the pressure of his gaze.

His hand lifted, and he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, a touch so light it sent a shiver down my spine. “You do,” he said softly. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.”

And God help me, he was right.