“I Needed a Fake Girlfriend for the Office Party,” the CEO Muttered—Then She Slid Me a Note That Said “Pick Me”
Chapter 2
Ethan read the note three times.
Pick me.
It was ridiculous.
Impulsive.
Possibly the worst professional decision he could make.
Yet he couldn’t stop staring at it.
Lena returned to her desk as if nothing had happened.
She opened a spreadsheet.
Typed something.
Checked another document.
Completely calm.
Ethan stood there.
“You’re serious?”
She looked up.
“Yes.”
“You understand what I’m asking?”
“Yes.”
“You’d pretend to be my girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“For an entire evening.”
“I understand.”
“With my family.”
“I know.”
“And my employees.”
“I know.”
“There will probably be photographers.”
“I assumed.”
Ethan frowned.
“You thought this through?”
Lena leaned back.
“You came to me because you needed someone.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to volunteer.”
She shrugged.
“I volunteered.”
“Why?”
She smiled.
“Because you asked.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is.”
Ethan studied her.
Most people behaved differently around him.
They became nervous.
Overly polite.
Desperate to impress him.
Lena was different.
She seemed almost amused by the situation.
“I should warn you,” he said. “My grandmother will interrogate you.”
“I can handle questions.”
“My mother will probably love you.”
“That’s useful.”
“She may ask how we met.”
“I have an answer.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“Already?”
Lena opened a drawer.
She pulled out a sheet of paper.
“I made a list.”
He took it.
There were possible stories.
Where they met.
When they started dating.
Their first date.
Their favorite restaurant.
Even their supposed anniversary.
Ethan stared.
“You made this in five minutes?”
“Four.”
He laughed.
She smiled.
Something about her confidence unsettled him.
“What do you want in return?”
Lena’s expression changed.
“Nothing.”
“Everyone wants something.”
“I don’t.”
“That isn’t believable.”
She looked at him.
“Then consider it a favor.”
Ethan wasn’t satisfied.
But there was something else.
“Why did you write ‘Pick me’?”
Lena looked away.
For the first time, she seemed nervous.
“I didn’t want you to ask someone else.”
“Why?”
She took a breath.
“Because I thought it might be interesting.”
That wasn’t the real answer.
Ethan knew it.
But he didn’t push.
“Fine.”
He held out his hand.
“Deal?”
Lena looked at it.
Then shook it.
“Deal.”
The evening arrived quickly.
At seven-thirty, Ethan stood in the lobby waiting.
He wore a black tuxedo.
His hair was perfectly styled.
His expression was unreadable.
Then the elevator doors opened.
Lena stepped out.
Ethan forgot what he was about to say.
She wasn’t dressed extravagantly.
She wore a deep emerald evening gown with simple jewelry.
Her hair was loose.
She looked elegant without appearing as though she had tried too hard.
Ethan stared.
Lena smiled.
“You’re staring.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
He cleared his throat.
“You look…”
“Terrible?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Beautiful.”
Her cheeks colored slightly.
“Thank you.”
He offered his arm.
“Ready?”
She took it.
“Ready.”
The photographers outside immediately began taking pictures.
Questions flew toward them.
“Mr. Carter! Is this your girlfriend?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Are you finally settling down?”
Ethan smiled.
For once, he didn’t hate the attention.
Lena leaned closer.
“What do I say?”
“Whatever you want.”
She smiled at the cameras.
“We’ve been together for a while.”
The reporters reacted instantly.
Ethan looked at her.
She whispered:
“Relax.”
He almost laughed.
Then they entered the ballroom.
Hundreds of employees turned toward them.
And Ethan realized something.
Pretending to be Lena’s boyfriend might be far more dangerous than he had expected.
Because the moment she slipped her hand into his, it didn’t feel fake.
