Page 24 of The Fake Affair

“I think,” Bella walks to her kitchen, “we’ll need something to drink.”

A minute later, I hear the familiar sound of a kettle being filled.

"Tea?" she calls out.

"You're making tea now?"

"I'm Scottish by proxy now, apparently. Might as well start practicing."

So that’s a yes on the contract.Despite everything, I find myself smiling. She returns with two mugs, settling back on her couch.

"So," she takes a sip, "Goldman Partners, huh? That's the old money firm that turned you down last quarter."

I take a sip myself and exhale. It’s good tea, full-bodied and sweet without being medicinal. “How did you know that?”

She snorts into her cup. “Well, Logan, I am your executive assistant. I know everything about you.”

Yes, Bella doesn’t do anything half-way. I run a finger along the engravings at the base of the cup. Seagulls, in flight. Unconventional and beautiful. "Of course. I nearly forgot. Anyway, they're conservative," I explain. "Traditional. Their CEO still thinks women shouldn't work after marriage."

"Charming."

I take another, long sip, letting the warmth wash over me. "And now they're interested because I'm'settled down.'"The irony isn't lost on me. "One glimpse of a potential relationship, and suddenly, I'm trustworthy enough for their millions." It hurts, in some ways, that my merit isn’t enough.

"Must be nice," she says dryly, "having your entire professional worth judged by your personal life." She takes a glance at me and notices I’m not smiling. So she doesn’t push it. “Well, at least your fake relationship is already paying dividends.”

That earns her a gruff laugh. “Our fake relationship. If you agree.”

She motions for my phone, and I open the page of the contract and hand it to her. “I have conditions.”

The tea is now finished, so I set the cup down on the table beside the couch. “Of course you do.”

She doesn’t look at me, content with scrutinizing the contract instead. “I keep my job—my actual job, not just playing your girlfriend. But I want flexibility. Work from home when possible.”

I nod. “Reasonable.”

She offers me a small smile. “The marketing agency funding is non-negotiable. And I want autonomy over my projects.”

“Done.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “That’s it? No argument?”

I shrug. It’s been a long day, and I’d love to wrap this up. “You’ve proven your worth with the CyberMind deal. I trust your judgment.”

“And the personal stuff? How do we...” She gestures between us. “Handle this?”

It doesn’t fail me that she wants to put some distance between us now, for the sake of both of our mental peace. I can respect that, even if I don’t like it. So, I speak the next words begrudgingly.

“We maintain appropriate appearances. Dinners, events, and the occasional weekend away when necessary. You’ll need to move in with me?—”

She drops the phone, her eyes wide. “What? No.”

I frown at her. “Bella, we’re supposedly long-term partners. Living separately would raise questions.”

“Damn it.” She stands again, and now, she begins pacing the small room in the same way I had, not an hour ago. “This is insane. The whole thing is insane.”

“You can keep your apartment,” I say, trying to sound indifferent. “For appearance’s sake, you’ll live with me.”

“With separate bedrooms,” she says firmly.

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