Page 45 of Based on You

I sat frozen at my desk and stared at the glowing screen.

I couldn't tell him the truth. That was the wall I kept hitting. I'd been circling it for weeks and had run clean out of angles. Every approach landed in the same place. Telling him the truth meant confessing that V.M. Ashby was sitting three feet from his office door.

It meant admitting that the emotional book he'd been analyzing, the one his grieving niece loved, the one he'd read just to understand Olivia, was secretly written by the woman who made his morning coffee. It meant acknowledging that every steamy chapter about the fictional assistant and the CEO had been about him, drawn from him, written while he paid me to sit at this desk. And it meant revealing I was the exact person he'd hired me to find.

But I couldn't keep doing nothing either.

I needed something that bought me more time. The idea showed up without warning.

What if I found Ashby?

What if, as the person coordinating the search, I tracked Ashby down and made contact, and Ashby, once reached, firmly stated she couldn't come? She couldn't travel. She wouldn't meet anyone in person. What if Ashby's answer to being found was simply that a face-to-face wasn't possible? That would also solve the company's problem. If Ashby couldn't travel, the contract signing could happen online. No one needed to be in the same room. No one needed to show a face.

It was a blatant lie. I knew that. Just another toxic layer on top of the huge lie I'd been living since I first started taking his salary while building a romance novel around him. One lie breeds another. I'd known that from the beginning and made the selfish choice anyway, back when the secret had seemed manageable, back when it had seemed like a small, private fantasy that would resolve itself before it ever became real.

It had not resolved itself. The lie had grown into the house I was living in, and the boss I was dangerously falling for, and the teenage niece who'd started coming downstairs for dinner again, asking Simon real questions she never would have asked two months ago.

I didn't want to keep lying to him. I didn't want to keep lying to Olivia. This plan was a delay, not a solution, and I knew it in my bones. But I couldn't come out with the truth yet. Not with the stakes this high, and not with him standing this close.

I had to do something now, and since the truth wasn't available to me, this terrible lie was all I had.

I stood from my desk. I picked up my leather notebook like a shield. I marched over and knocked twice on his office door.

"Come in."

I pushed the heavy door open. He sat at his desk, suit jacket still on, the afternoon brief spread out in front of him. He looked up the second I came in.

"Mr. Beckett. I have something to tell you."

He set his silver pen down at once. "What is it?" His eyes moved across my face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes." I didn't quite meet his gaze. I locked my eyes on the blank space just past his left shoulder. "I found Ashby. But there's a slight problem."

He frowned, leaning back in his chair. "What kind of problem?"

I fought to keep my voice even. "Ashby can't fly down to New York. She has a severe fear of travel. She can't come." I paused, forcing a sympathetic tone. "I'm so sorry, sir. I know that's not what you were hoping for."

His sharp jaw shifted, and he looked down at the mahogany desk. I watched his face go quiet.

"But she did make a personal promise," I added quickly, offering the olive branch. "She said she'd dedicate the next serialized chapter to Olivia. By name. She said she'd write the chapter with her in mind."

He looked up at once.

His dark eyebrows rose. The corners of his mouth pulled up before the full smile formed.

"Oh," he breathed, moved. "That's—Violet, that's wonderful." He shook his head, amazed. "I know it isn't exactly what we planned. But Olivia seeing her own name in a published dedication… she'll love that."

I smiled at him. I couldn't help it. His face when Olivia was the sole reason for his happiness was devastating. Warmth bloomed in my chest before I remembered I'd manufactured the whole thing.

"I'm really glad," I said.

"As for the company logistics," I continued, sliding back into my professional cadence, "since Ashby can't travel, everything can be handled online. The legal contract, the formal signing, all of it. I just need her to provide an email address, and we can move the publishing process forward without her ever being in New York."

He nodded, working the business angle. "That works. The only thing I'd eventually want her present for is a fansigning, but that's a bridge we can cross later. For now, closing the deal online is fine." He met my eyes. "You handled this well, Violet."

I let out a shaky breath of relief. "I'm just glad I could help."

"I really don't think you know how much." He looked at me steady, his eyes warm. "Thank you, Violet. Really."