Page 16 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

“It’s been so long since we’ve had the pleasure,” she continues, tone light but pointed.

I return her smile, just as polished. “Nice to see you too, Caroline.”

She looks at me with content. “I imagine it must feel good to be back. There’s just something about working in the office, don’t you think?”

And there it is.

Caroline is one of those people—the ones who believe that if you’re not physically at your desk, you’re not really working.

She’s never outright said that remote workers do the bare minimum, but the undertones are always there.

The subtle remarks about team culture. The casual digs about dedication.

The pointed way she phrases things, like she’s not quite accusing you of slacking, but you know that’s exactly what she’s implying.

I could let it slide. I should let it slide. But Caroline is the same level as me and I don't let her boss me around.

So, I flash my best, most professional smile. “Oh, absolutely. Where else would I get to enjoy Colin narrating his emails out loud like he’s recording an audiobook?”

Beside me, Christa lets out an undignified snort, covering it quickly with a cough.

Caroline’s smile twitches, but she recovers fast, smoothing a hand over her blouse. “Well,” she says, tone clipped, “I suppose some people just work differently.”

“Suppose they do,” I reply brightly.

She gives me one last glance before turning and heading back to her lair, the click-click of her heels sharp against the floor as she walks away.

Christa is still shaking her head, trying to stifle her laughter. “One day, Caroline is going to snap, and I will be there with popcorn.”

I smirk. “Make sure it’s salted.” I give her a wink before heading towards the meeting room.

The meeting is exactly what I expected—far too long, filled with slides that could have been emails, and sprinkled with the usual buzzwords that make my soul shrink. By the time I step back out into the corridor, I feel like I’ve aged a decade.

I make a beeline for reception, where Christa is scrolling through her phone.

She looks up the moment she sees me. “Survived?”

“Barely,” I say, dropping my bag onto the counter. “I swear, if I hear the phrase ‘synergy in urban planning’ one more time, I might start throwing things.”

Christa grins. “Sounds like you need a reset.”

I raise a brow. “You think ? And what do you suggest, oh wise one?”

She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Spa day. This Saturday. You, me, facials, massages, and absolutely no talk of work.”

I hesitate, but she sees the crack in my resolve before I can even think of an excuse.

“Spa-ing was on your list, Ivy. And you owe me. I’ve been carrying this office’s entertainment needs while you’ve been holed up at home. Plus, you clearly could do with some treatments.” She gestures vaguely at my face. “No offence, but you still look like you’ve been through it.”

I sigh dramatically. “Wow. Love the support.”

She grins. “I’m just looking out for you. And before you come up with any pathetic excuses, I already have a voucher, and Alex doesn’t need the car this weekend. So, we’re going to our favourite spa in Kent, and you are not getting out of it.”

Alex, her fiancé, is probably staying home watching rugby, just like he does most weekends.

I’m not going to say something though, Christa already thinks that I don’t like him.

It’s not that per se, it’s just that I feel she deserves better.

But what do I know? I’m on a dating ban because I have no clue about men or relationships.

Maybe what Christa and Alex have is the best there is.

I narrow my eyes at her. “You really planned this whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.” She smirks. “I know you. If I didn’t box you in with logistics, you’d wiggle out of it.”

I shake my head, but a smile is already creeping onto my face. “Fine. But no massage! I hate that. I feel like they are torturing me to extract some state secrets, and I don’t know what they are.”

“Deal.” Christa claps her hands together, victorious. “Saturday, it’s happening. No backing out.”

I roll my eyes but feel a little lighter already. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Just as I push myself off the reception counter, ready to escape back to my home office sanctuary, a voice calls out behind me.

“Ivy! Before you go…”

I swear I clench my jaw on instinct before I even turn around.

Caroline approaches with the usual polished smile—practised, professional, and just a little too smug for my liking. “Just a quick reminder about the big Macmillan Cake Extravaganza in four weeks,” she says, her voice dripping with enthusiasm.

I blink at her. “The what now?”

Christa mutters under her breath, “Oh, here we go,” before making herself look very busy with something on her screen.

Caroline’s smile tightens just a fraction, as if I’ve personally insulted her by not immediately knowing what she’s talking about. “The charity event? You do read the company newsletter, don’t you?”

“Oh, the newsletters.” I nod, playing innocent. “The one probably buried under a mountain of meeting invites? Must’ve slipped through.”

Caroline exhales, though she keeps her expression pleasant.

“Well, it’s a big deal. We’re raising money for Macmillan, and everyone is encouraged to bring in a homemade cake.

” She tilts her head, eyes twinkling with something far too knowing.

“Of course, we all know baking isn’t exactly your strong suit, so no one will hold it against you if you just attend. We mums have it covered.”

Ah. There it is. I feel Christa freeze beside me, probably holding her breath to see if I take the bait.

I do.

“Actually,” I say, pasting on my brightest smile, “I will be attending. And I’ll be bringing a cake.”

Caroline’s brows lift ever so slightly, just enough to suggest she’s highly doubtful. “Really?”

“Really,” I say, crossing my arms. “A proper, homemade cake. By me.”

Christa chokes on nothing.

Caroline gives me one last unreadable look before nodding. “Well then, I look forward to it.”

She waves awkwardly before disappearing down the corridor with the same purposeful click-click of her heels that follows her wherever she goes.

The second she’s out of sight, Christa bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. You so took the bait.”

I groan, rubbing my temples. “I know.”

“Do you even own cake tins?”

“I will by the end of the month.”

She cackles. “This is gonna be amazing.”

I glare at her. “You’re supposed to be supportive.”

“Oh, I am!” She grins. “I fully support this disaster you’ve just signed yourself up for.”

I sigh, already regretting every life decision that has led me to this moment.