Page 47 of One Small Secret

Thank goodness. I was afraid I was going to have to resort to showing her the photo Ruben sent me as proof. Not that I would. He sent it to me, only. But I also kind of want to, because…hot dang, it's such a good photo. “We value our privacy,” is all I say. Andrew taught me that one last night.

Both Christian and Mr. Auger are off today. I’m not sure if Christian is gone by choice or if he has already been “dealt with,” but when I walk past his desk, it’s bare. It seems Ruben didn’t waste any time.

At lunchtime a company-wide email comes from Ruben. I can feel every other employee’s eyes on me as we all read the message at the same time.

It’s pretty straightforward. Ruben has talked to HR about our situation, and he'll no longer be involved in any of my projects. If anyone has any questions or concerns, they should feel free to contact HR to discuss them. He ends the email by saying Friday will be a half-day, and everyone can feel free to leave work at noon.

My face is burning.

I spend the rest of that day and Thursday answering questions about the two of us to pretty much everyone who knows me. I don’t know if Ruben is dealing with the same issues, because he never comes to the 11th floor. By Friday, things settle down and I'm actually able to get some work done on the Laos proposal and a seaside Welsh location I’d been scouting.

I’m on my fourth day of fake dating Ruben Palmer, and if you don’t count Christmas, he hasn’t kissed me once. Nor has he sent me any more photos. I’m beginning to think his talk with Ben basically made him reconsider any sort of messing around with Cadence Crane.

Ben is a sweet guy. I love him. But he's also kind of the worst.

Noon hits and everyone files out of the office. Friday feels like the kind of day a girl with a fake boyfriend should have a date planned, but Ruben hasn’t said anything about going out. I’m not a pro at this, but Ruben seems to be making all the rules.

I hate whatever rule he has that means we haven’t made out. But I love the one where he texts me every night. I’m basically living for those text conversations every evening, and I can’t help but feel like he can only trust himself if we aren’t in the same room. I should have chosen the real dating option. I’ve second- and third-guessed that decision seventeen times.

I pull out my phone and click on his name.

Are you ready to go? Or are you still busy?

I tap my fingers on my desk as I wait for his reply. I could walk. It isn’t snowing or anything. But I stopped wearing my sneakers, so I’d really rather catch a ride. Other than texting, I only get about six minutes in a car with him each day, and I don’t want to give up half of them. My phone buzzes.

I’ve got a few things I need to finish. I’ll be ready to go in about 20 mins.

Twenty minutes. I blow out a puff of air and tap my pencil on my desk. I should be able to find something to do for twenty minutes. My phone vibrates again.

Do you want to come up?

I stare at my phone and read his question again. In all the time I’ve worked at Palmer Hotels, I’ve never been to the 15th floor or Ruben’s office. My thumbs fly to my keys. Of course I want to come up. I want to come up so bad my feet have already started moving. Sure!

I sit back down in my chair and replace the exclamation point with a period. Now my answer looks totally nonchalant. Sure, I’ll come to your office, Ruben. No, I won’t imagine kissing you for the whole 20 minutes I’m there. Yes, I can behave myself in your presence. No, you don’t have to keep avoiding me.

I force myself to pack up my things slowly. I’m not about to step foot into his office one minute after he invited me. I look at my watch. I’ll wait here for at least five minutes before I go.

I wait a minute and a half.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I force my knock to sound casual—two raps. That’s businesslike and not desperate, right? Ruben calls out to come in. He’s sitting at his desk, his dark hair still perfect, and he doesn’t look up from his computer when I walk in. I take a moment to survey his domain. Behind him is a wall of windows. If he was trying to make himself look like an angel with the afternoon sun glowing behind him, he’s on the right track. His desk is sleek and modern, and a picture of his parents hangs on the wall. But my inspection stops when my eyes land on the black leather couch with deep cushions. The kind of couch two people could fall asleep on and actually be comfortable together. Or they could not fall asleep on it. Ruben catches my glance and the corners of his lips turn down. Something about that frown is my last straw. I stick my tongue out at him and march to the couch. I make a big show of sinking into it, kicking my feet up, and getting very comfortable.

“How’s your work going?” I ask while sliding off my shoes.

His eyes go to my feet and I can’t tell if I’m horrifying him because his couch cost a bazillion dollars or if he just finds me horrifying. He shakes his head, then looks back down at his desk. “I’m almost done. And then I've got a question for you.”

I swing my feet down off of the couch and sit up straighter. Maybe I have a date after all. I’ll play nicer.

Ruben is true to his word about getting his work done. He types away at some things and completely ignores me. Eventually my feet end up back on the couch and I close my eyes. I’m constantly a bit short on sleep, thanks to Axley, as well as Ruben’s nightly texts. The leather on this couch is soft and supple, and I don’t even blame Ruben for his frown. I’d frown at my feet on it too.

Time passes by faster with my eyes closed. It feels like only a few minutes have passed when I hear a scraping sound next to me. I jerk my head up to find Ruben dragging his office chair over to the couch. He stops and sits on it, a good five feet away.

I rub my eyes but don’t sit up. “What’s your question?” I ask with a yawn.

Ruben leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “Will you come with me to New York on Monday? Just the two of us?”

I sit up. “On New Year’s Eve?”

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