Page 66

Chapter forty-six

Messy, real and fucking in love

T he Pulse boardroom smells of coffee, nerves, and man-sized smugness.

It’s the same boardroom where we signed the NDA. Same glass walls, same espresso machine humming in the background, but everything feels different.

Mainly because I’m no longer fake dating Chase Walton.

I’m real dating him, and we’re about to come clean about it.

Chase is sitting beside me wearing a Storm hoodie, grey joggers, and the world’s most punchable smile.

I’m in a blazer, because I’m a damn professional. And if I’m dressed appropriately, I may get through this meeting without murdering him.

“I can feel you thinking about stabbing me,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “You still mad I kissed your shoulder in the lobby?”

“You licked my shoulder.”

“It was a loving graze.”

“It was unsanitary ,” I hiss. “We were next to the receptionist.”

“Marge loved it,” he says with a shrug. “She fist-bumped me. I think she ships Chaz.”

“She also offered me a shot of industrial-grade sanitizer.”

The door opens, and in walks the parade: Rachel, my boss. John Raines and Neil from Storm management. Coach Benson. And a guy in a suit who looks so beige he might actually be an NDA. They all take their seats, and no one looks especially thrilled to be here.

Chase nudges my thigh under the table. “Place your bets. Who blows a gasket first?”

“John,” I whisper back. “But Neil will quote a bylaw first.”

We both nod solemnly.

Rachel scans the table as she sits. “Everyone here? Great, let’s get started. As per the agenda, this meeting is to formally conclude the temporary Pulse-Storm PR partnership involving Ms. Carlson and Mr. Walton—”

“Quick thought—” Chase raises a finger.

“No,” Rachel says immediately.

He grins. “Wow. Rude. You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“You never say anything helpful,” provides Coach.

“I was going to say,” Chase continues, undeterred, “that I’m happy to renew the contract. In perpetuity, and with upgraded terms. Such as actual dating. Kissing her in front of Neil. Coordinated Halloween costumes. A shared streaming subscription, and more… forks. Because Zoe really likes—”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “Stop talking.”

John leans forward. “Are you saying… you’re actually dating?”

“Well,” I begin, “it wasn’t real to begin with, but—”

“It was always real,” Chase amends. “But now it’s realer than real. Reality squared. We do joint grocery runs, and I know what brand of tampons she uses.”

Neil chokes on his coffee, Beige Legal Guy drops his pen, then there’s silence.

I don’t look at Chase, but I feel his grin.

Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose. “I told you this would happen.”

“Technically, I said it first,” mutters John.

“I sent the email,” Coach adds. “I was the first.”

Chase throws up his hands. “Wow, okay. Sorry we accidentally created the greatest love story of all time. Next time I’ll try harder not to fall for the only woman who’s ever insulted me and made me hard at the same time.”

“I did do that,” I concede with a sigh.

“Tattooed it on my soul,” Chase replies.

Rachel blinks. Opens her mouth. Closes it again.

“I—Did you just—did he just say—” She turns to me, eyes glassy with what looks like genuine despair. “Zoe. I beg you.”

I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “We—what we mean is, we’ve decided to continue the relationship outside of the contract. Personally. Not professionally.”

Neil, who has been quietly stewing, finally speaks. “You mean to tell me you want our blessing to date a player ?”

“Define dating,” Chase says, thoughtfully. “Is it bringing her coffee every morning? Sitting through five nail design options without blinking? Watching her reorganize my spice rack alphabetically?”

“I did that once —”

“Twice. Coriander was removed from the C section again last night.”

“That’s—stop putting it in S!”

“It tastes like soap , Zoe.”

Coach Benson lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and a snort.

“Look, I get it,” I say, redirecting. “But we’re not pretending anymore, and I wanted this meeting to be transparent. This isn’t a PR scandal. We’re just… continuing on. For real. Without the fine print this time.”

Rachel nods slowly and John sighs. Neil, however, is flustered.

“This was a business arrangement. A performance to generate positive media optics. If you’re implying it’s turned into a real relationship, then we have a conflict of interest.”

“Incorrect,” Chase replies brightly. “We have no conflict of interest because I had the contracts re-drafted before I agreed to this stunt. Page eleven, subsection B. Zoe’s job is untouchable. You can’t fire her or end Pulse’s contract. I made sure of it.”

Neil glares. “You made us rewrite legal documents before the contract began because you anticipated falling for her?”

“No,” Chase says, grinning so hard I see a molar. “I already had.”

Rachel looks impressed despite herself as she reads the contract. “He’s right. Says right here Pulse and Storm hold no claim over employee relationship status after campaign conclusion.”

Beige Legal Guy clears his throat and flips through his folder, while Coach lets out a barely audible Jesus Christ under his breath.

“Okay,” John says slowly, trying to ground the chaos. “But, from a PR standpoint—”

“—It’s a win,” I cut in smoothly. “We’ve already run the narrative of Chase’s redemption arc. Now you’ve got the ultimate payoff. What’s better than a bad boy gone good? He doesn’t get papped at nightclubs anymore. He’s got a skincare routine. He hasn’t been fined for flipping off a ref in weeks .”

Chase winks. “You’re welcome.”

Coach Benson cracks a knuckle. “So let me get this straight. You fake dated Carlson, then real dated her, then pre-edited the legal terms so she couldn’t be fired when you inevitably convinced her to fall in love with you.”

Chase shrugs. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Rachel quirks a brow at me. “And you chose him?”

“I did,” I say, chin high. Chase’s warm palm finds my thigh under the table. “And I’m not sorry.”

Neil splutters. “But what about the optics? Public perception? You just came out of a major scandal—”

“I came out of an assault , Neil,” I snap.

“In case anyone’s forgotten, I was stalked.

Drugged. Hospitalized, because of a Storm fan.

And through all of that, Chase showed up.

He protected me, checked in on me, and never once tried to spin it for the cameras.

Even when fans said I was throwing off his game. ”

“Which, for the record,” Chase says, “she wasn’t . My goals-per-game ratio has increased. She’s my lucky charm, but with more backtalk.”

I elbow him. He grins.

John shifts in his seat. “I just want to know if we can officially shut down this PR stunt without tabloids publishing a ‘ Storm star fakes relationship, catches feelings, joins fork cult ’ headline.”

“Oh my god,” Rachel mutters.

“We’re not a cult,” Chase says. “But I am into forking her.”

Coach Benson makes a strangled sound again as I close my eyes.

“I’d bench him,” he says dryly, “but he’s scoring.”

Chase winks at me. “In multiple ways.”

“CHASE,” I hiss.

Rachel holds up a hand. “Enough. Jesus. Look, this isn’t ideal. But it’s also not grounds for dismissal. The contract is airtight, Zoe’s work remains exemplary and the Storm’s reputation has improved.”

Neil frowns, rifling through his papers like he’s searching for a loophole. “But what about the fanbase? The narrative? You didn’t give us a clean break. No official statement. No closure to the campaign arc. This feels unresolved.”

Chase stills, and then he laughs. A single bark of disbelief as he leans forward, planting his elbows on the table and fixing Neil with a look so cold it silences the entire room.

“You want a clean break?” His voice drops. “You want closure ?”

I shift beside him, but he doesn’t look at me. He’s locked on Neil.

“You got months of photos. Public appearances, carefully scripted interviews. You got your narrative . And Zoe?” His voice gets sharper. “Zoe nailed every second of it. Even when she had cameras shoved in her face. Even when it put a goddamn target on her back .”

Neil blinks. “Chase—”

“It’s Walton ,” he snaps. “Only people who give a shit call me Chase.”

The room goes still as he continues.

“She got stalked. The woman I’m in love with got fucking hurt. And you’re mad you didn’t get a fake break-up post?”

Rachel’s eyes drop to the table, and even Coach Benson looks grim.

“She could’ve died, and you think she owes you a press release? She owes you nothing .”

His voice cracks, just slightly. Then steadies again, steel behind every word.

“You want a story, Neil?” His voice dips lower.

“I fell for her the second she rolled her eyes at me and told me I was a walking liability with abs. I fell harder every time she saw through my bullshit, every time she challenged me. Every time she didn’t let me get away with being the clown everyone expected me to be. ”

My chest twists, tight and thundering only for him.

“I’ve been falling ever since, and I’ll keep falling until the day I die. Whether or not it fits your agenda.”

Chase leans back then, that crooked grin curling back into place.

“So, no. There’s no sad caption. No sunset photo. Just Chaz. Messy, real and fucking in love. If that’s your PR crisis?” He spreads his arms. “Tough shit.”

Neil is quiet, and no one else moves. Coach Benson is the one who speaks first.

“As long as he doesn’t send her flowers on Storm time, I don’t care.”

Chase throws his hands in the air. “It was one time!”

John stares at him. “You sent a delivery driver to our press conference with a bouquet and a handwritten sonnet.”

“It was a haiku,” Chase says proudly. “I’m exploring new forms.”

Rachel chokes on a laugh while Coach Benson mutters a curse under his breath. Neil looks like he’s aged ten years in ten seconds, and John just sighs.

“You sure it won’t affect your game?”