The elevator ride up to Alex's office was silent, except for the faint hum of the machinery and the soft, rhythmic click of my heels against the polished floor.
He stood beside me, scrolling through his phone like the entire lunch had been nothing more than a calendar entry. His cufflinks caught the light, little flashes of silver that felt almost smug.
I didn't speak — partly because I wasn't sure I trusted my voice, partly because I was still replaying that woman's warning in my head. They only play pretend until it stops benefiting them.
When the doors opened, he walked ahead without waiting. I followed, the muted echo of my steps chasing him down the hall.
Inside his office, the door shut behind us with a soft thud that sounded heavier than it should.
"Are we going to talk about what just happened?" I asked, my voice sharper than I'd intended.
He glanced up from behind his desk, the skyline spilling in through the window behind him like a perfectly chosen backdrop. "What exactly do you think happened?"
"That woman basically accused me of using you."
His eyes held mine, steady and unreadable. "It's not the first time someone will say that. It won't be the last."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"It's noise. People talk."
I took a step closer, my pulse pounding in my ears. "It's not just noise when it's aimed at me. I didn't sign up to be humiliated in public."
"No," he said, leaning back in his chair, the leather creaking faintly, "you signed up to be my girlfriend. Publicly. That's part of the deal."
The words stung more than I wanted to admit. "And what about you? What's your part of the deal, Alex? To stand there and let them think whatever they want about me?"
For a long moment, he didn't answer.
Then he set his phone down, the quiet click of it hitting the desk sounding final, and stood.
He crossed the space between us slowly, like he was measuring each step.
"You think I don't protect you?" His voice was low, threaded with something I couldn't name. "Every single thing I've done since we started this has been to make sure you survive in my world."
"Survive?" I echoed, my throat tight. "That's a hell of a bar to set for a relationship."
"This isn't a relationship," he said. "It's an arrangement."
I flinched before I could stop myself. My stomach twisted, a slow, cold knot forming there.
His gaze flicked over my face, and for the first time, I saw something there — not softness, exactly, but a crack in that impenetrable exterior, like a brief shadow moving across sunlight.
"Sarah…" He hesitated, and it was the hesitation that scared me more than the words. "It's better if you don't start believing it's more than that.
I turned to leave, but his hand caught mine — warm, steady, and impossibly firm.
When I looked back, his voice was quieter, almost a whisper.
"But if it were…" His eyes locked on mine. "That would be the most dangerous thing I've ever done."