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Over the courseof the afternoon, I continue to be a deeply mediocre assistant to Gage. But I am anexcellentfake fiancée. I give myself chocolates, which I generously share with a few people in the office kitchen, confiding that my boyfriend sent them to me. Then I send myself jewelry, and—in front of the biggest office gossip—I fake a phone call, where I blush and giggle and whisper to my “boyfriend” that he can’t keep sending me all this, it’s too much, someone will figure out he works here too...
By 5:45 p.m., I’m pretty sure every entry-level employee on our floor knows I’m getting romantic gifts from my secret boyfriend who also works here. Now all I need to do is let the gossip trickle upward until everyone else knows too.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll start dropping a few hints that will lead people to suspect it’s Gage. They can’t be too obvious though. People will believe it more if they have to work to connect the dots.
I’m brainstorming tomorrow’s gifts when Gage storms out of his office and glares at the roses on my desk.
“Damnit, who sent you those?”
I blink. Has this been bothering him all afternoon?
Why wouldGagecare that someone is sending me flowers?
Then I remember where we are. “Keep your voice down. I’ll explain when we get home.”
He scowls. “Why should I have to be quiet just because some asshole is sending you cheap, cliche flowers—”
I stand, grab his arm, and drag him into his office. After shutting the door firmly, I turn to face him, hands on my hips. “What has gotten into you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”
His scowl deepens. “That’s ridiculous...I’m not...”
Oh my God. Heisjealous.
A wild thrill shoots through me. I’m playing with fire, and I like it way more than I should.
He storms across the office and starts shoving papers on his desk into his briefcase. “My interest in your pathetic love life is purely professional. If someone’s sending you gifts, it will make our engagement less plausible when we make it public.”
“Whatever keeps you warm at night, Gage,” I tease.
His head snaps up. “I am warning you, Violet. Tell whoever it is to knock it off, or he’s fired. I don’tcarewho he is.”
Okay, this has gone on long enough. Making Gage jealous is fun, but I don’t actually want to get some poor schmuck fired.
“Actually, this whole thing will make our engagementmoreplausible,” I explain. “Because the person sending me those gifts is you. At least, that’s what people will think, after I drop some strategic clues.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
I open my mouth to explain. That’s when I realize there’s basically no way to explain my plan without calling him heartless and incapable of love.
Not that Gage is the type to care about what people think.
Except what if maybe, underneath that grumpy exterior, he does?
More importantly, since when doIcare about hurting Gage’s feelings?
“Spit it out, Violet,” he growls.
For some reason, that growl makes me flush. “Um...Your mom seemed like she was surprised you were engaged. And the general sentiment around here seems to be that you’re...uninterested in long-term relationships. I think a little extra evidence might help convince people.”
Gage thinks about it. At least he says, “That’s not a bad idea.”
I smile, triumphant. He’s an ass, but a part of me likes having his approval. Maybe it’s because I know when Gage says something, he means it.
“But the gifts you’ve been sending yourself are terrible,” he says scornfully. “No one would believe I would send a woman anything so worthless.”
Ah, there’s the asshole I know and hate.
