Sienna never imagined she'd spend her Tuesday morning drafting a fake dating contract for her emotionally constipated billionaire boss.
But here she was.
At precisely 9:03 a.m., she marched into Julian's corner office with a leather folder clutched under one arm and a cappuccino in her hand. The air inside was its usual brand of arctic—thanks to the thermostat Julian liked set to "igloo"—but her palms were sweating anyway.
He was already seated at his sleek glass desk, back straight, sleeves rolled up, and laptop open. Focused. Imposing. So aggravatingly calm.
He didn't even look up when she entered. "On time. As always."
"I've never been late in the three years I've worked here," she replied, setting the cappuccino down in front of him and the folder beside it. "This time included."
That made him glance up. He eyed the folder.
"What's this?"
"The contract," she said.
Julian arched one perfect brow. "I didn't realize you were a lawyer."
"I'm not. But I'm a highly efficient assistant who watches enough legal dramas to draft a watertight agreement." She took the seat opposite him and flipped it open. "Besides, someone had to draw boundaries before things get… weird."
"They're already weird."
"Exactly."
Julian leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. "All right, Miss Cole. Hit me with it."
She cleared her throat and began to read.
"This agreement, hereby referred to as the Blake-Cole Arrangement, shall govern the terms of the public-facing romantic engagement between Julian Blake and Sienna Cole. The duration shall be a maximum of six weeks, terminating immediately after the Blake & Co. Charity Gala. This agreement is non-renewable and non-romantic in nature, and both parties shall adhere to the following stipulations…"
Julian blinked. "You gave our fake relationship a name?"
She deadpanned, "Would you rather I call it 'Operation: Blake's Public Love Life PR Band-Aid'?"
He smirked. "Touché. Continue."
"Clause One: Physical boundaries. No physical intimacy beyond what is absolutely required in public. Permitted gestures include light hand-holding, a brief hand on the lower back, and minimal, staged displays of affection at sanctioned events. All physical contact must be consensual, rehearsed, and brief. No kissing. No accidental sleepovers. No 'oops, we fell asleep watching Netflix.' This is not a rom-com."
Julian coughed, covering a smile.
"Clause Two: Emotional boundaries. Neither party shall use this arrangement to explore, express, or manipulate real feelings of affection, jealousy, or emotional vulnerability. Any emotional entanglement is strictly prohibited and shall render this contract null and void."
"That's harsh," he murmured, flipping through the pages.
"It's necessary."
"Clause Three: Privacy. All real-life personal matters are off-limits. There will be no intrusive questions, no sharing of family trauma, and definitely no calling each other by pet names like 'babe' or 'honey' unless absolutely scripted."
He looked up. "So no Juju Bear?"
"Do you want me to walk out right now?"
He chuckled. "I'll behave."
"Clause Four: Public appearances. Each party agrees to attend no less than four planned public events together. These include but are not limited to: the Lagos Chamber of Commerce gala, the Blake & Co. Women in Tech brunch, two separate business expos, and possibly a paparazzi-friendly 'accidental' date to a fancy restaurant."
Julian tapped the edge of the contract. "You forgot the interview with the Business Review Weekly."
Sienna winced. "Yes, that too. With photos. And probably a forced laugh."
"Clause Five: Exclusivity. While under the terms of this agreement, both parties shall abstain from dating or being seen with other romantic partners in public. Fake or otherwise."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're really locking this down."
"I'm protecting both of us. Trust me, once this gets out, everyone will be watching us. One wrong move and the board will roast you alive. And me? I'll become another corporate scandal footnote on Twitter."
Julian leaned back and looked at her for a long moment. "You're scared."
Sienna's eyes flicked to his. "I'm smart."
"Same thing, sometimes."
She held his gaze. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'm sure I don't have a choice."
She swallowed.
"So we're clear," she said, voice softer now. "This ends the moment the gala is over. No lingering feelings. No crossed wires."
"Crystal," he replied.
Sienna hesitated. "One last clause."
He quirked a brow. "There's more?"
She reached for a pen and scribbled in the margin.
"Clause Six: Safe word — either party may call off a situation mid-event if it becomes too uncomfortable or crosses a personal line. The safe word is… 'penguin.'"
Julian blinked. "Penguin?"
"I panicked. It was the first thing that came to mind."
"Why not something subtle like… 'exit strategy'?"
"Because you'd find a way to weaponize that in a press quote."
He smirked again. "You know me well."
She sighed and slid the final page toward him.
"Just sign, Julian."
There was a pause.
He picked up the pen. Spun it between his fingers. And then signed with his usual confident flourish.
"Done."
Then he slid the contract back.
Sienna took it. Folded it carefully. And tucked it into her folder like it was a ticking time bomb.
Which, frankly, it was.
"So," she said, rising to her feet, "we're officially fake-dating."
Julian stood too, taller than her by half a foot. Too close.
"Romantically partnered," he corrected. "On paper."
She rolled her eyes and headed toward the door.
Just as she reached for the handle, he called out, "Sienna?"
She turned.
His expression was unreadable.
"If we're going to do this… we need to sell it."
Her heartbeat flickered. "Sell it how?"
"Convincingly. People can smell fakes. Especially my mother."
Sienna blinked. "Your mother is going to be watching?"
"She's flying in for the Women in Tech brunch next week."
"Oh God."
Julian gave a small smile. "We might need to rehearse."
She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly do you want to rehearse?"
"Everything." His voice was casual, but his eyes sparkled with challenge. "How you look at me. How I look at you. How we move around each other. How we fight."
"We already know how to fight."
"Yes," he said, almost fondly. "But now we have to make it look like foreplay."
Sienna groaned.
She pushed open the office door.
As it shut behind her, she muttered, "This is going to end in disaster."
Behind her, Julian stood still, watching the door long after she was gone.
He didn't say it aloud.
But he was starting to wonder if disaster was exactly what he wanted.