Page 17 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)

JACK

I stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers swimming before my eyes as I tried to focus on anything except the woman sitting across from me. The conference room felt smaller tonight, the air between us charged with an electricity I couldn’t explain away as simply professional tension.

The soft click of Mia’s keyboard provided a steady rhythm in the quiet room.

Every so often, she’d pause to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear or take a sip from her coffee mug.

Each small movement drew my attention like a magnet, forcing me to drag my gaze back to my screen with increasing difficulty.

Then she did that thing that sent my pulse racing.

Gathering her hair in both hands, she pulled it over her shoulder, smoothing it down absently as she read something on her screen.

It had been exactly thirty-nine hours since I’d held her in my arms. Not that I was counting. Thirty-nine hours since I’d felt her body relax against mine, since I’d breathed in the vanilla scent of her, since I’d momentarily forgotten every ethical line I’d ever drawn.

And six hours since she’d casually mentioned hiring an escort for her sister’s wedding. The thought made something hot and possessive curl in my gut. Which was ridiculous. Completely fucking ridiculous. What Mia did in her personal life was none of my damn business.

I glanced up, catching her gray eyes focused on me. She quickly looked away, a flush coloring her cheeks as she returned to her work. The subtle pink made my chest tighten.

Was she really okay? The panic attack had been severe, and despite her assurances, I wasn’t convinced she was as fine as she claimed.

The memory of her trembling in my arms, vulnerable and exposed, made me want to protect her from whatever or whoever had made her feel that way.

I couldn’t shake the image of finding her huddled on the floor of the server room, knees pulled tight to her chest, her breathing shallow and rapid.

The look in her eyes had gutted me completely, those usually bright gray eyes wide with panic and glassy with unshed tears.

Her entire body had been shaking, fingers tingling as she gasped for air that wouldn’t come.

Even now, the memory of her voice, high and tight with fear as she’d insisted she was fine, made my heart twist painfully.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off thoughts that had no place in a professional relationship. Before I could focus back on my work, Mia looked up from her laptop.

“How come holding my neck like that worked? To calm me down, I mean.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question that was so in line with my own thoughts.

“There’s a pressure point there that helps regulate the nervous system.

” I kept my voice dry, informative, as if giving a lecture rather than discussing an intensely personal moment we’d shared.

“Pressing on it alleviates symptoms of a panic attack by activating the vagus nerve.”

Mia tilted her head, her eyes wide. “You sure seem to know a lot about anxiety.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

I hesitated, weighing whether to deflect or tell the truth. “I have some experience with it.”

She watched me carefully, her lips parting slightly before she asked, “For yourself, or someone else?”

“Myself.” The word felt heavier than it should have.

“As in, you get anxiety?” Her voice held no judgment, just genuine curiosity.

I nodded curtly, uncomfortable with how exposed I suddenly felt. This wasn’t something I discussed with anyone, ever.

“How do you manage it?” she pressed, her eyes never leaving my face.

“Working out.” I shifted in my chair, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “Physical exertion helps a lot.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, a hint of her usual sparkle returning. “Wow, you must get anxious a LOT!”

I could tell she was trying to lighten the moment, to turn it into a joke about my physique, but I couldn’t bring myself to play along. The truth wasn’t something I could laugh away.

“Yes,” I said simply.

Her smile vanished instantly, regret washing over her features. “I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me.” She shook her head, reaching across the table as if to touch my hand before thinking better of it. “I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

The genuine concern in her eyes made something in my chest loosen slightly. “It’s fine.” She was still watching me carefully. “Really.

We returned to work, the silence between us more comfortable than before. I found myself stealing glances at her as she typed, noticing the furrow of concentration between her brows, the way she occasionally bit her lower lip when puzzling through a problem.

She was absolutely gorgeous. I’d thought so from the moment I’d laid eyes on her, walking into Catalyst in her crisp suit, hair pulled back in a high ponytail, laughing at something Emily had said. A dream. That’s what she was.

“Are you serious about hiring an escort?” The question escaped before I could think better of it.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide and cheeks flushing with color.

“What? No, of course not.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture I’d come to recognize.

“Besides the fact that it’s just a stupid joke, I’d have to hire him to attend more than one family event for it to be convincing.

I don’t have that kind of cash, no matter how satisfying it would be. ”

I studied her for a moment. “Do you really think it would help?”

Mia sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Yes,” she admitted, the strain obvious.

“Because right now, my mom is relentless about it. I’m trying so hard not to let it get to me, but it’s too much.

” She looked down at her hands. “The constant texts, the setup attempts, it’s fucking exhausting.

I know it’s stupid. I’ll be fine. I just have to get through the next six months, until the wedding.

After that, my mom will back off... at least about this particular thing. ”

The resignation in her voice, the way she’d already accepted months more of this treatment, hit me like a physical blow.

I couldn’t reconcile the confident sales manager who ran circles around Porter with the woman who sat across from me now, bracing herself for months of emotional abuse from her own family.

An idea formed in my mind, so wildly inappropriate that I immediately tried to dismiss it. But once the thought took hold, I couldn’t shake it loose. It was unprofessional. Unethical, even. There were a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t even consider it.

But the memory of her huddled on the floor, struggling to breathe because of a text from her mother, burned through all those reasons like acid.

I looked at her now, her eyes downcast, shoulders curved inward as if preparing for another blow.

This wasn’t just about her comfort at a wedding.

This was about her mental health, her sense of self-worth.

The words formed before I could fully consider the ramifications of what I was about to offer.

“I could do it.”

Mia looked up, confusion crossing her features. “Do what?”

“Be your date.” The words shimmered in the air between us, impossible to take back now that they’d been spoken. “For the wedding. And whatever other events.”

Her eyes widened, lips parting in shock. “What?”

“It makes sense.” I tried to sound logical, as if this was a straightforward business proposition rather than a wildly inappropriate suggestion.

“Your family would stop pressuring you. You wouldn’t have to worry about being set up with strangers.

And I’m...” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m reasonably presentable.”

A strangled sound escaped her throat, something between a laugh and a gasp. “Reasonably presentable? Jack, you look like you walked off the cover of GQ.” The moment the words left her mouth, a blush spread across her cheeks. “I mean, you’re... you know what I mean.”

Her flustered response made something warm curl around my heart, but I kept my expression neutral. “The point is, I could help. If you wanted.”

“That’s completely insane.” She shook her head, looking bewildered. “You’re my boss.”

“Outside of work, I’m just a person.” I leaned forward slightly. “A person who doesn’t like seeing you hurt.”

Her gray eyes searched mine, looking for some joke or hidden agenda. “Why would you do this?”

The question was fair. Logical. But I wasn’t sure I could give her the full truth without revealing more than I was ready to acknowledge, even to myself.

“Because I understand what it’s like,” I said finally. “To have family that makes you feel like you’re never enough.”

Something shifted in her expression, a recognition passing between us.

“Besides,” I added, trying to lighten the moment, “your mother sounds like she needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

Her lips curved in a half smile, and I found myself fixating on them. “So what exactly are you suggesting? That my ultra-successful, absurdly handsome boss pretends to be my boyfriend for the next six months?”

“If that would help, yes.”

She stared at me, her smile fading as she realized I was completely serious. “Jack, that’s...” she trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

“Inappropriate?” I supplied. “Unprofessional? Crossing about a hundred HR boundaries?”

“Well, yes, all of that.”

“It would be entirely separate from work,” I assured her. “After hours only. No one at the office would need to know.”

She bit her lower lip, a gesture that sent an inappropriate jolt of heat through me. “This is crazy,” she whispered, but there was something in her eyes now, a flicker of possibility.

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But it would solve your problem.”

“And create about a thousand new ones,” she countered, but her tone lacked conviction.

“Think about it,” I said, giving her an out. “No pressure.”

Mia’s gaze slid away, then back to me. “I guess I could think about it, at least. If you’re sure you’re serious about it.”

“I’m sure,” I kept my voice low but firm. “And like I said, no pressure. It’s entirely your decision.”

She nodded slowly, a mixture of uncertainty and possibility swimming in her gorgeous eyes before she turned back to her work.

As we fell into silence, I wondered what the hell I’d just done. I’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, offered something that went against every professional boundary I’d ever set for myself. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

The thought of being by her side, of standing between her and the people who made her feel small, of seeing the look on her mother’s face when she realized her daughter had brought home someone on her own, rather than the sad-sack setup she’d arranged... it all felt strangely right.

Only time would tell if Mia felt the same way.