Sophie Blake had exactly three things going for her:
1. A steady job in marketing at one of the trendiest tech companies in the city.
2. A loyal houseplant(who had recently stopped dying), and
3. The ability to fake-laugh through 98% of awkward social situations.
What didn't she have? A boyfriend. Or, according to her mother, a fiancé and a plan.
Her phone lit up at 8 a.m. She didn't look because it was always her mother at 8:02.
She was 29, perfectly healthy, mostly sane, and somehow still the family's disgrace. Her cousin Ella was twenty-four and marrying a man who wore pinky rings and called himself "king".
She looked in the mirror while brushing her hair and gave herself the same prep talk she gave every time someone got engaged on Instagram:
"You're smart. You're employed."
She was pretty. Wavy dark hair that had a mind of its own, expressive blue eyes, and a sarcastic smile that made men nervous and mother-in-laws disapprove.
Cue the group chat buzzing like a swarm of judgmental bees.
Group Chat(The Ladies Club):
Jules: I'm bringing my yoga instructor named Jax. He plays the piano."
Tina: I'm bringing my boyfriend and also my backup just in case."
Jules: Sophie, please, bring someone. Anyone. Bring your houseplant."
Sophie: He's not emotionally available right now."
Every time she walked outside, it felt like the entire city was holding a clipboard and judging her single status. Her dry cleaner had asked, "Still single?" like it was printed in her receipt.
And her lousy neighbor had once offered to set her up with his grandson.
The next morning, she got dressed with the same enthusiasm she usually reserved for flossing or cleaning behind the fridge. A skirt, a simple blouse, and heels sharp enough to kill. Hair mostly tamed, face minimal but professional. She added a touch of red lipstick, paused, then wiped it off.
"Too optimistic," she muttered at her reflection.
She arrived at the office early, dodging the receptionist's knowing look and pretending not to hear Tina yell "Hey slayer!" from her desk.
Her best work friend, Amber, sidled up behind her at the espresso machine like a gossip ninja.
"You heard?" Amber said, eyes sparkling like a woman who lived for chaos.
"Heard what?" Sophie asked warily, already bracing for another round of who's-engaged-now.
"The boss! He's here. After ghosting the company for months."
She blinked. "I thought he was a myth."
"He's real! I guess he's here to stay."
At 9:59, Sophie sat in the sleek glass conference room among her colleagues, trying to look like she wasn't wondering if she had deodorant on both sides.
And then he walked in.
He wasn't just good-looking, he was extremely handsome. Clean-cut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a tailored suit. His expression was work mode. The kind of man who had a dedicated drawer for spare cufflinks and alphabetized his spice rack.
And her heart? skipped a traitorous little beat.
Not because she was interested. Why would she be interested? If she were to parade someone impressive in front of her nagging mother, Liam would be the gold-medal option. He screamed "stable provider" with a voice that probably ordered wine with confidence.
But she shut the fantasy down before it could bloom.
He was the boss. Off-limits. Out of her league. Her dating league consisted of emotionally unavailable men.
She straightened in her chair, nodded along with whatever synergy buzzwords he was saying, and made a silence pact with the universe: No falling for tall, devastatingly handsome CEOs.
Even if they had cheekbones sharp and shapely enough to file a lawsuit.
By the end of the day, she had earned herself a personal Everest of reports and deadlines. When the last email was sent and the office lights had dimmed to after-hours gloom, she slipped her laptop into her bag and trudged toward the elevator, fully prepared to drag her body home via late-night bus and sheer willpower.
She didn't expect to see Liam Carter, standing by the reception area in quiet conversation with the floor manager.
As she passed, the manager gestured to her.
"She's heading out now, Mr. Carter. Should she join you in the car? There's enough space for both of us."
Liam gave a single shrug, casual and smooth, without a glance. "Fine by me."
Sophie walked forward. Her heart gave a startled jolt, then immediately folded its arms and sat back down.
This wasn't happening.
Without a word, she followed the manager's nod toward the private elevator that led to the executive parking level.
She sat on a plush leather seat of the company's limo, her bag on her lap, back straight, eyes forward. The kind of way that could have filled a novel.
Invincible. That's what she was.
Perfect. Just the way she likes it.
Mostly.
She pulled out her phone and pop in her ear-phones, pretending to scroll through emails, but really hitting play on her "Avoiding eye contact list."
A few minutes passed. Liam glanced sideways at her, noticing the white cords snaking from her phone. Something about the way she was sitting made him pause.
He closed his laptop slowly and leaned back.
"You always listen to music on your way back?"
She pulled out one earbud, startled. "Uh, sometimes."
His brow lifted slightly. "Isn't that awkward?"
"I..I mean, you're my boss. We've never spoken. And now I'm in your limo. It's basically a LinkedIn fever dream."
He laughed.
"Well, now we've spoken."
Before he could say anything else, the limo slowed to a stop in front of her bus stop. She unbuckled quickly, thanking Liam and the floor manager. As soon as she rounded the corner, she fumbled for her phone and opened her group chat.
Sophie: "Ladies! you will not believe whose limo I was just in. Story incoming. Get your popcorn."
She grinned.
Tonight's women club chat was going to be ironic.