Page 12 of He Falls First

This is it—the moment where I’m supposed to lie through my teeth, paint the picture-perfect image of the domesticated business mogul. The charade makes my stomach churn. Cromwell makes me want to challenge him. To tell him the yessiest yes I can and beat him at his own game, in his own terms of success.

“Confirmed,” I say simply. Then, when they lean in to encourage me to go on, “I will be settling down. Very soon.”

Cromwell smiles. “Good. I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of women begging to be Mrs. Hendrix Monroe. I always say, to figure out which one’s wife material, the key is—”

“You misunderstand me,” I interrupt. “I’m not talking about some woman, some day.”

I can feel Matt staring at me, his eyes widening as he wonders where I’m going with this. I don’t keep him in suspense too long. As I say my next words, I fold my hands on the back of my head and watch Cromwell’s face closely.

“In fact, I’m already engaged to be married.”

Matt’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Engaged?” he repeats, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Yep,” I say, doubling down on the madness. “I’m engaged to Elizabeth.”

Satisfaction keeps me grounded as Cromwell’s mouth drops open. He gestures toward Elizabeth’s exit to confirm, and it’s only then that we notice.

Elizabeth has just cracked the door open to come back into the room. She’s been here just long enough to hear… You know. The part that nails me to the wall.

“I, um, forgot my pen? I was just going to get my- my pen.” Her voice drops at the end, nearly inaudible even in the silent room.

Matt’s looking at me to fix this, but I don’t know what the hell comes next. I didn’t think that far ahead when I was looking at Cromwell like an angry bull looks at a swinging cape.

I’m giving Elizabeth a hell of a first week impression.

Chapter 5

Elizabeth

Let’s recap for the folks at home who may be shocked by what’s happening (It’s me. I’m “the folks at home”).

This is only my second day working with Hendrix. And I mean, I like most people, but I’m not even sure yet if I like the guy or not. He practically bit my head off to tell me to go check on his next meeting.

And after all that, I’ve just walked back into the room to hear him tell everyone that we’re engaged.

What the actual fudge nuggets?

When I hear Hendrix call out my name, I feel a little relief in my chest. It was all just a joke, wasn’t it? A silly prank that Hendrix pulled just for a laugh?

Yeah. Because the guy’s a real ha-ha funny type.

“Elizabeth,” he says again. “Sweetheart?”

He holds a hand out to me and I stare at him from across the room full of people, all eyes on me.

He’s not joking.

The whole room turns to me, a gallery of tailored suits and curious smirks. It feels like I’m the butt of a sitcom joke, standing in front of a live studio audience of people about to burst into laughter at my expense.

My mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. I stand there, rooted to the carpet, my fingers tapping out Morse code for ‘send help’ on my thigh.

Matt, who worked with me here before all this and knows fully well that I’ve only just met Hendrix—and therefore have had very little time to get engaged—jumps to his feet.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he says loudly, taking the door handle from me as if I can’t handle closing the door on my own. To me, he whispers, “I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking, but just go with it, please.”

His eyes are pleading, but Hendrix—you know, the guy who should be worried about my reaction—still stares at me with a steady gaze, seemingly unfazed.

Hendrix might actually be a psychopath.

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