Chapter 1
Elena POV:
Five o’clock hit, and the office began its slow, collective exhale.
My colleagues filtered out in waves, their voices fading into the elevator banks, but I stayed tethered to my glowing monitor.
I’d only been with Eastern International for two weeks, and I was still drowning in the learning curve.
I needed the extra hours just to finally get my head above water.
The sound of footsteps approached—rhythmic and familiar.
I looked up.
It was him.
Matthew Casper, the titan behind Eastern International.
He strode toward me with the kind of presence that had been my primary fuel throughout the grueling interview process.
A charcoal-grey suit, a sharply defined jawline, and that signature, immaculately slicked-back hair—
He was a study in lethal restraint.
He was the kind of man who made me ache to stand by his side, yet his sheer gravity made me want to bolt.
His pace never faltered; every step seemed to sync perfectly with the frantic thumping in my chest.
He started walking toward me.
I was supposed to be staring at my screen, but for some reason, I looked up.
Our eyes met—just a fleeting, casual glance from him—but it was enough to make my heart skip a beat.
I looked away instantly, pretending to be buried in my files.
This has to stop.
I took a second to steady myself, then forced the courage to look up again.
"Mr. Casper."
He came to a halt.
"The speech for tomorrow’s industry summit is ready."
I quickly pulled the file and handing it over.
He flipped through it absentmindedly.
Just as I prepared to make my exit, he clipped my momentum.
"Wait. This data... it doesn’t look right."
"Really?"
I stepped closer to him to see the page.
"Matthew—"
A sharp, urgent voice sliced through the quiet air.
A woman was marching toward us, the rapid click-clack of her stilettos echoing off the hallway.
She looked like she’d stepped straight off a red carpet—
Hourglass curves, a gown that cost more than my car, and enough diamonds to blind a person.
I looked down at my budget-brand blouse.
Great.
I discreetly tugged at my hem.
My voice was a low murmur, meant only for his ears.
"Mr. Casper... if you don't need anything else, I’ll be heading out."
"Stay."
I froze.
"But that wouldn't be appropriate—"
I whispered.
"Do me a favor."
His gaze locked onto mine.
Every instinct screamed at me to look away, but I was a heartbeat too slow.
My pulse stuttered, losing its rhythm.
I couldn't tell how long he’d been watching me.
All I knew was that I had lost the chance to be the first to break the contact.
"Okay..."
My voice was small, trembling.
I was about to witness a scene—a drama staged by my own boss.
The thought alone left me deeply unsettled.
Matthew looked up.
The mild professional aura he’d carried a second ago turned to sub-zero steel.
I took a deliberate step back, trying to vanish into the drywall.
"What are you doing here?"
His voice was ice.
The expectant glow on the woman’s face died the moment her eyes landed on me. "Can we talk in your office?"
"No. Say it here."
She bit her lip, shooting a venomous glance my way.
"Does it have to be here?"
"There are no secrets left between us, Lisa."
The stilettos clicked a few more times as she struck a pose, looking like she was waiting for a photographer to find her angle.
"Matthew, let’s stop this childish game and get married again."
For a second, I thought I had misheard.
No.
There was no way I was supposed to be hearing this.
My boss has a secret soap opera life?
This powerhouse woman is his ex-wife?
Matthew didn't flinch.
He kept his chin tilted up, his expression unreadable.
"Lisa, that’s not happening."
Her face hardened for a beat before the mask of a smile returned.
She stepped into his personal space, reaching out to flirtatiously brush a nonexistent speck of dust from his lapel.
Matthew recoiled ever so slightly.
"Everything before... it was just a misunderstanding," she cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "I know you haven't moved on."
I was fairly certain I was witnessing something I absolutely shouldn't be witnessing.
I tried to shuffle backward, but his earlier command kept me pinned.
Matthew let out a short, dry laugh, brushing her hand off his chest.
"Your memory is shorter than I thought."
Lisa’s expression curdled.
"Fine! I’m the one who can’t move on. Happy? But did you really have to cut me off?
“Changing your number, moving house so I couldn't find you?"
Matthew checked his watch.
"State your business, Lisa. Or take it up with my assistant later."
Lisa shot me another look of pure disdain.
I gave her my best "professional" smile, though my palms were starting to sweat. Why is he dragging me into the line of fire?
She looked back at him, her eyes glistening with rehearsed tears.
"Matthew, we had something beautiful. Everyone said we were the perfect couple.
“Even with everything that happened..."
"Forget it." Matthew adjusted his cufflinks, his voice flat.
"I’m getting married soon. Just not to you."
Lisa gasped, her brow furrowing.
"That's impossible. We were so good together..."
Without warning, Matthew reached out and pulled me into his arms.
My heart plunged into a panic, I hit his chest hard.
A sharp gasp caught in my throat, only to break and soften into a breathy, intimate moan.
My face burned, and I meant to push him away.
But as my hands brushed against the hard, defined planes of his abdomen, the strength left my fingers.
He tightened his grip on my waist.
I told myself to pull back, but I didn't.
Instead, I followed the pressure, letting the force of him draw me closer.
By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late.
I’m just here to help.
I repeated the words in my head, a desperate mantra.
Matthew pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my cheek.
"Meet Elena, my fiancée," he said, his eyes suddenly full of a convincing, suggestive warmth. "Elena, this is Lisa. My ex-wife."
I didn't miss a beat.
I melted into him, leaning into his side and beaming a saccharine smile at Lisa.
"Hi! So lovely to finally meet you."
Her jaw dropped.
She stood there, silenced by the shock.
"No... no, you're lying..."
She shook her head, stumbling back a step.
"We’ve only been divorced a year..."
Matthew gave my shoulder a soft, possessive squeeze.
"Accept reality, Lisa."
"No..." she whispered.
She turned and stumbled away, the once-sharp rhythm of her heels now a hollow, dragging sound.
--
Lisa vanished at the end of the hallway.
Matthew hadn’t let go yet.
His chest was solid against me, and the scent of his cologne, mingled with the warmth of his skin, made my head spin...
Suddenly—
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry."
It happened in the same breath—
His arms dropped, and I took a sharp step back.
We put space between us.
But the heat of his body still clung to me, making every point of contact feel even sharper now that it was gone.
I looked down, feigning a need to fix my hair just to avoid his eyes.
But I couldn't stop my gaze from flickering toward him for a split second.
I pulled it back instantly.
The act is over.
I... don't have to pretend anymore.
Matthew’s expression shifted back to its usual icy composure.
"I apologize."
He said, his tone perfectly polite.
"I shouldn't have forced you to play along."
"It was nothing. I was... happy to help."
I took a quiet, steadying breath, trying to calm the heart that was currently hammering against my ribs.
"I have a very short memory... you don't have to worry about me."
"I know you're a professional."
He picked up the speech from the desk.
"This data—have you verified the numbers?"
The mention of work acted like a cold splash of water.
My brain snapped back into focus.
"I just pulled the figures from the previous filings.
I’m sorry—I’ll double-check them right now."
"When you put these numbers side-by-side, the logic falls apart."
He leaned over me to grab a pen from my desk, circling a section of the document. "You need to be more sensitive to the information in front of you."
As he reached for the pen, he moved into my personal space, almost caging me against the desk.
For a fleeting second, I was wrapped in his heat again—
A heady mix of expensive cologne and pure pheromones.
A prickle of electricity shot up my spine.
I dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to focus on the numbers.
After a moment, he set the file down.
"The writing is solid."
He looked at me, a faint, cryptic smile playing on his lips.
"There’s one more task I need handled."
"I'm happy to do it," I said, my professional instinct kicking in.
"Be my fiancée," he said. "Just for a while."
It took me a second to even process what he was saying.
I snapped my head up to look at him, the words dying in my throat.
It took another long beat before I found my voice again.
"This is... to deal with your ex-wife, right?"
"You're sharp."
"Right..."
My mind was racing, trying to find the exit.
"Can I... can I say no?"
"Why would you?"
He sounded like he already knew the answer.
My thoughts were a chaotic mess.
I just wanted a paycheck and a steady job, not a lead role in a corporate melodrama. I took a deep breath.
"I don't want to get pulled into your orbit..."
The distant click of heels returned. I looked toward the sound, startled.
Matthew didn't hesitate.
He yanked me back into his arms.
Just as I started to protest, he leaned down, his face inches from mine.
"Sorry. Just a little longer."
"But Mr. Casper, I told you—"
His lips were already on mine.
They were soft, warm, and possessed a gentleness I had never seen from him before.
My mind screamed to escape, but my body surrendered to the sanctuary of his arms.
The clicking of high heels drew closer, yet I didn't move.
I even found myself... wishing the kiss wouldn't end.
The thought had barely surfaced before it startled me.
A second later, a jolt of clarity returned.
Remember, I reminded myself. This is just an act.
Lisa rounded the corner of the hallway, her stride wide, her elaborate dress whipping up a cold gust of air.
She came to a dead stop, eyes widening as she took us in.
Matthew let go of me, his fingers grazing my chin in a lingering pinch.
He turned to face Lisa.
His gaze was calm and indifferent, as if nothing had ever happened.
Lisa’s chest heaved, her diamond necklace catching the sterile office light.
"You... this is for real? You’re with her?"
Matthew didn't even blink. He adjusted his cufflink with a maddeningly slow precision.
"Very much so," he replied, his voice a cool, flat line.
"That’s a lie! We were the perfect match—everyone said so!"
Matthew didn't even grant her a glance.
He took my hand firmly in his.
"Let’s go. No more overtime today."
Fine.
If I was going to play the part, I might as well finish the scene.
We walked past Lisa, Matthew treating her as if she were part of the office furniture.
--
The elevator descended with a high-speed hum.
I retreated to the far corner—the maximum possible distance from him.
My head was spinning with a hundred questions.
"Have you decided?" he asked.
"Why don't you just tell her 'no' directly?"
The moment the question left my lips, I regretted it.
Who was I to poke at the cracks in his personal life?
His expression hardened into that familiar, icy mask of the CEO.
"I owe her a debt from the past."
He looked at me then, his eyes as cold as if we were discussing a quarterly budget. "So. Your decision?"
I hesitated.
"If I say no, are you going to fire me?"
"Probably."
My heart sank.
That hit harder than I expected.
I had clawed my way through hundreds of applicants to get this desk.
"I’ll double your base comp," he continued. "And I won't force you into anything physical.
“Your only job is to be my buffer—to manage Lisa until she finally lets go of her delusions."
The elevator dinged as we hit the lobby.
"If you're in, stay on until the parking garage."
I shot him a frantic glance, my lips pressed into a tight line, praying for my brain to kick into gear.
The doors slid open.
My thoughts were white noise.
I kept my eyes averted, but his stare was a physical weight on my skin.
I willed my legs to move, to step out into the safety of the lobby。
But they were rooted to the floor.
The doors began their slow, mechanical crawl shut.
I can still leave.
I can still hit the 'Open' button.
If I just pressed that cold metal button, this would all be over.
But I stayed frozen until the doors clicked shut. My fingers remained curled tight against my palm.
As if he were the one holding them down.
A faint, satisfied smile played on his lips.
"Excellent. I appreciate the cooperation."
"Tomorrow night is the gala. You’ll be attending as my fiancée."
I stared at him.
That was a terrible idea.
And somehow, I had just agreed to it.
