Elle arrived first.
She wore a cream colored dress that skimmed her figure effortlessly, soft against her skin, structured enough to feel intentional. Her hair was styled neatly, falling in gentle waves that framed her face. When she moved, a warm floral scent followed her, subtle and inviting, like something remembered rather than noticed.
She sat with her back straight, legs crossed, hands folded loosely in her lap.
Composed. Calm. Perfect.
The door opened.
She didn't look up immediately, but she felt it.
The shift in the room. The quiet awareness of presence.
When she raised her eyes, she saw him.
He stood tall, shoulders relaxed yet commanding, dressed in a dark tailored suit that spoke of authority without effort. His expression was neutral, unreadable, but there was something beneath it, restraint, control, the kind that came from knowing exactly how powerful one was.
His dark hair was neatly kept, slightly undone in a way that felt unintentional. And his eyes
—
Deep blue.
Steady.
Dangerously calm.
They met hers.
Her hazel eyes were hypnotizing, and his deep blue eyes drew her in.
That was the moment it all slowly began.
He approached, movements deliberate, every step measured. When he stopped in front of her, the space between them felt charged, quiet, intimate, unsettling in a way she couldn't explain.
Up close, she noticed his scent. Warm. Clean. Faintly woody. Expensive, but not loud. It lingered, wrapping around her senses before she could stop it.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then he smiled.
It was subtle. Controlled.
Not soft, but not cold either.
"Elle Hayes," he said, his voice low, calm, and steady. "I'm glad you agreed to meet."
Elle rose to her feet smoothly, her smile polite and practiced. The kind she used in boardrooms and negotiations, warm enough to disarm, distant enough to protect.
"It's nice to finally meet you," she said, extending her hand.
Their hands met.
His grip was firm but brief, warm without lingering. Still, the contact sent an unwelcome awareness through her, one she dismissed immediately. Annoyed, she withdrew her hand first, schooling her expression before he could notice the shift.
She hated that she noticed him.
Hated that her senses felt sharper, more alert than usual.
"Please," she gestured toward the seat across from her, already reclaiming her composure. "Have a seat."
He did, studying her in a way that felt deliberate but not intrusive. As though he was taking note without trying to unsettle her, though she suspected he knew exactly what he was doing.
"You're earlier than Laura mentioned," he observed calmly.
"I prefer punctuality," Elle replied, settling back into her chair. "It leaves less room for misunderstandings."
A flicker of something passed through his eyes, approval, perhaps. Or interest.
"I can respect that," he said. "Efficiency matters."
She crossed her legs, posture flawless. "Then we won't waste time."
Silence followed. Not awkward. Measured.
She became acutely aware of him again, his presence steady, his attention unwavering. It irritated her. She wasn't used to being thrown off balance, especially not by someone she had just met.
"You already know why we're here," she continued, voice even. "I assume this is a… proposal of sorts."
"In a way," he replied. "A mutually beneficial arrangement."
There it was.
Her gaze sharpened, lips curving faintly. "I prefer clarity."
"As do I," he said, meeting her eyes fully now. "Which is why I think this could work."
The air between them felt tight, controlled, intentional. Not romantic. Not yet.
Elle leaned back slightly, studying him the way she studied contracts and people she didn't yet trust.
Annoyed by how affected she was.
Curious despite herself.
And very aware that whatever this was, it was not as simple as she had expected.
He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.
"Time," he said finally, almost absently. "It's the one thing I don't seem to have enough of."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Elle noticed.
Her brow lifted slightly, not in judgment, but in quiet surprise. "Most people say that," she replied, lightly. "Few actually mean it."
His jaw tightened, just a fraction.
"I do," he said. "Long hours. Constant expectations. Very little room for… anything else."
There it was.
Not loneliness spoken aloud, but implied. Clear. Honest.
It unsettled her.
Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the moment.
"Good. You've met."
Laura appeared beside their table, composed as ever, her presence instantly shifting the energy. She smiled at them both, eyes sharp with quiet satisfaction.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Laura said, though it was clear she knew she was.
Elle exhaled softly, irritation and relief mixing in equal measure. "Not at all," she said. "We were just… clarifying expectations."
The man leaned back in his chair, expression once again neutral, guarded. Whatever had slipped earlier was gone.
"Perfect timing," he added calmly.
Laura took the empty seat, folding her hands together. "Then let's get straight to it."
She looked at Elle first.
"You're both busy. Successful. Tired of explanations."
Then she turned to him.
"And equally uninterested in emotional complications."
Elle's lips pressed together.
Laura continued, voice steady. "This arrangement isn't about romance. It's about convenience. Appearances. Mutual benefit."
She paused deliberately.
"A public relationship. Private boundaries."
Elle glanced at him without meaning to.
He was already looking at her.
Quiet. Assessing. Careful.
"This would be temporary," Laura added. "Clear terms. Clear end."
Elle's heart gave an unwelcome thud.
Temporary.
She nodded slowly. "And what exactly are we gaining?"
The man spoke before Laura could.
"Peace," he said simply.
The word lingered between them.
And for the first time, Elle realized something she hadn't expected at all
—
She wanted to know what kind of man needed peace as badly as she did.
Laura's gaze moved between them, sharp and thoughtful, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.
"I paired you two," she said calmly, "because neither of you is looking to be saved."
Elle's attention snapped fully to her.
"You don't need validation," Laura continued. "You don't need reassurance. And you certainly don't need someone to fill your time." She tilted her head slightly. "You need someone who won't demand more than you can give."
Then she looked at him.
"And you," Laura added, "need someone who won't mistake your silence for indifference, or try to soften you into something you're not."
The air felt heavier.
Elle let out a slow breath. "That's a flattering theory," she said evenly. "But theories aren't enough."
She turned to him, gaze direct now. Assessing. Professional.
"If I'm considering this," Elle continued, "then I want terms. Clear expectations. Duration. Boundaries. No ambiguity."
She paused. "I don't do emotional improvisation."
Something like approval crossed his expression.
"Good," he said quietly.
Then, after a beat, he added, "I have a boundary as well."
Elle's brows lifted slightly. "Go on."
He met her eyes steadily.
"No pretending in private," he said. "Public appearances only. No manufactured intimacy behind closed doors. No lying to each other."
Laura's lips curved faintly, pleased.
Elle hadn't expected that.
It unsettled her, because it felt less like protection and more like honesty.
"And when this ends," he continued, voice calm but firm, "it ends cleanly. No guilt. No expectations. No revisiting."
Silence followed.
Elle studied him carefully, annoyance stirring again, not at him, but at the quiet sense of recognition she didn't want to acknowledge.
"Fair," she said at last. "Then here's mine."
She leaned forward slightly.
"This does not interfere with my work. Ever. If it does, we're done."
He nodded once. "Agreed."
Laura clasped her hands together. "Good," she said. "Then I'll draft the outline."
Elle leaned back in her chair, pulse steady, expression composed.
Convenient. Controlled. Temporary.
Exactly what she wanted.
And yet
—
As their eyes met again, just briefly, Elle couldn't shake the thought that something about this arrangement was already far less contained than either of them intended.