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The lies about me destroying Kir’s life were so over the top that they seemed like they were about someone else entirely. I shrugged. “Why would it bother me? Hope told me about how some blogger was against your family. I just didn’t expect my high school binge drinking to ever be publicized. That’s not me anymore.”
We stopped, and the driver opened the door. Kir slid out, and I followed. Then he kissed my cheek. “Good. Have a good day inside.”
“You’re sweet.” I cupped his face. Then I kissed his cheek as well. His warm skin sent a zip through me, and my hairs stood on end. I wanted to know what he would taste like.
My mind floated as I went up the elevator and to my office. As I started the computer, Lauglin knocked on the door and asked, “Was that Kir Norouzi with you?”
My heart fluttered. “Yeah. He dropped me to work today.”
He nodded. “Ziff wants you in his office, now.”
I stood and met his gaze. “I’ll be right there.”
I kept my head high and headed to the corner office. Ziff waved for me to sit and then folded his hands across the desk. I froze and wondered if this had to do with my promotion.
Then he said, “Management is having a cocktail hour this evening.”
I blinked. I wasn’t management, but I smiled and said, “Sounds fun.”
“Bring your boyfriend as a plus-one.”
I tilted my head. “Is that part of the interview?”
“They do need to see you’ll fit in socially.”
His eyes weren’t even moving. My blood went cold. “I’ll text Kir and see the schedule. But I can’t make promises on this short notice.”
“Make this happen, kid.”
At twenty-six, I was far from being a kid. However, I never argued. I stood up because it was clear the meeting was over. “I understand. I’ll do my best.”
I sidestepped my way out the door. Something felt like it was happening, but I wasn’t sure what. Either way, Kir and I were fake dating for this job, and I hoped it was fine.
Chapter Eight
Kir
* * *
I checked my white shirt and blue paisley tie, which I tucked into my gray suit. Since quitting finance, I’d had less need to impress except at meetings. Yet the tie felt normal.
I stood outside her building with my limo and flowers, looking exactly like a perfect boyfriend might. I rocked on my feet. She came out and immediately hugged me. She smelled like a French garden. My heart stirred. It was hard to imagine denying her anything.
As she let me go, she asked, “We are going?”
I directed her toward the limo. “First, change, and then I’ll be the perfect boyfriend, though we’re just doing a drive-by at your party because I have dinner reservations for us.”
She settled in the leather seats. As I joined her, I said, “I half wish you were real.”
“I’m all yours now.”
No, she wasn’t.
She turned, faced me. “I am. And thank you for this.”
We stopped at home, and she stayed beside me. She had no idea how I’d planned to impress her. As we opened the door, I directed her to an extra bedroom where dresses, a stylist, a hairdresser, and makeup artist were set up.
She hugged me again, and my body warmed. I patted her back. “I’ll pick you up, and we’ll go to your rooftop cocktail hour in an hour.”
