Clara's phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
At first, she thought it was just another reminder on Adrian's packed schedule, but when she finally unlocked her screen, her heart nearly stopped. Dozens of notifications, all with the same headline, glared back at her:
"Mystery Woman Spotted Whispering to Adrian Cole During Press Conference Is She More Than an Assistant?"
She scrolled, dread rising with every swipe. Photos of her leaning toward Adrian, whispering during the press conference, were plastered across gossip sites. The captions were merciless: The superstar's secret romance? The woman taming Adrian Cole? Gold digger or true love?
Clara dropped the phone onto her desk like it had burned her. Her face heated with humiliation. She had worked so hard to remain professional, invisible even. Now the entire city was dissecting her expression, her clothes, her every move beside Adrian.
The landline rang, startling her. She picked up. "Clara James speaking."
Her friend Mia's voice burst through, high-pitched and frantic. "Clara! Have you seen the blogs? They think you're dating him! Oh my God, girl, you're trending!"
Clara pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to scream. "Mia, this is a disaster. I'm not this isn't"
"Relax," Mia cut in. "Half of them will forget by next week. But the pictures… wow. You look good together."
Clara hung up before her friend's excitement made her more nauseous. This wasn't exciting. This was her career hanging by a thread.
When Adrian's voice suddenly cut through the room, Clara nearly jumped. "So it begins."
She turned. He stood in the doorway, dressed in casual black jeans and a T-shirt, holding his phone with the same headline glowing across the screen. But instead of looking angry or worried, he looked… amused.
"You think this is funny?" Clara snapped, more sharply than she meant. "They're dragging my name through the mud. They're calling me a gold digger, Adrian. I could lose my job for this!"
Adrian's smirk softened, but he didn't step closer. "Welcome to my world, Clara. Every word, every glance, every whisper gets twisted into something it's not."
"That's your world," she shot back, frustration boiling in her chest. "Not mine. I never asked for this."
His expression flickered, something unreadable passing over it. "You think I asked for it?" His voice was quieter now, but sharper too. "You think I wanted to wake up one day and find my entire life turned into entertainment for strangers?"
Clara faltered, her anger dimming as she saw a flash of honesty in his eyes. But the knot of panic in her stomach wouldn't let go. "I can't handle this, Adrian. I can't have people thinking I'm"
"Sleeping with me?" he finished, almost too casually.
Her cheeks burned. "Yes! That. Exactly that."
For the first time, his smirk disappeared completely. Adrian stepped closer, setting his phone down on the desk between them. His voice lowered, deliberate, almost protective. "Then let me handle it."
Clara blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I'll make a statement," he said. "Shut it down before it spreads further. They'll move on to the next scandal by tomorrow."
Something about the certainty in his tone made her chest tighten. He wasn't brushing it off, wasn't laughing anymore he was stepping in, shielding her.
"But that could make it worse for you," Clara whispered.
Adrian shrugged, though his eyes didn't leave hers. "I've had worse. They've called me everything already diva, womanizer, arrogant bastard. What's one more rumor if it keeps them off your back?"
Her breath caught. For a man who claimed he didn't care about anyone, he suddenly seemed to care an awful lot about her.
"You don't have to"
"I want to." His interruption was firm, final.
The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken. Clara's heart hammered. She wanted to ask why. Why did it matter so much to him if people tore her apart? Why did his gaze soften when he looked at her, even when his words stayed hard?
But before she could speak, his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen, his walls snapping back up. "My manager's having a meltdown. We're late for rehearsal."
Just like that, the moment was gone. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, his posture sharp and unreadable once more.
Clara followed, her thoughts tangled, her heart unsteady.
As they stepped into the waiting car, a dozen cameras flashed from across the street. Clara instinctively flinched. But Adrian moved closer, his hand brushing her arm not holding, not obvious, just enough to steady her, like he had in the lobby days ago.
And though he didn't say a word, that small gesture said more than any headline ever could.