Chapter 1 - Tonight, You’re My Girlfriend
Luca Moretti placed a black velvet box on his secretary's desk and said, "Tonight, you're my girlfriend."
Sophia Bennett stopped typing. The soft click of her keyboard vanished beneath the low hum of the Manhattan office tower, leaving only the distant traffic forty floors below. Cold white light from her monitor cut across Luca's tailored black suit. She looked at the box, then at him.
"I'm sorry?"
"The Bellamy Foundation Gala. Eight o'clock."
"I know. I scheduled it."
"You're attending with me."
Sophia slowly removed her glasses. "As your secretary?"
"As my date."
Luca said it with the same controlled tone he used when moving a meeting or closing an eight-figure deal. Sophia leaned back, folding her arms.
"Why?"
Luca glanced through the glass walls toward his darkened executive office. "People are talking about who I meet, who I don't, who might have influence over me. Pretending to date my secretary fixes that." He turned back to her. "It gives them something harmless to discuss."
Sophia's eyebrow lifted. "Harmless."
Luca ignored the correction. "One evening. We arrive together. You stay beside me through dinner. We leave together. Tomorrow morning, everything returns to normal."
She opened the velvet box. Diamonds caught the desk lamp in hard white sparks. Sophia shut it immediately.
"Absolutely not."
Luca's gaze dropped to the box. "The necklace stays with me afterward."
"That wasn't the problem."
For several seconds, neither moved. The office smelled faintly of espresso and polished wood. Somewhere down the hall, an elevator chimed. Luca finally pulled out the chair opposite her desk and sat — an action so unusual that Sophia's fingers stopped against the edge of the box.
"Name your terms."
"You think this is a negotiation?"
"Everything is."
Sophia pushed the box toward him. "No diamonds. No pretending I'm impressed by anyone. No answering questions for me. And if someone asks what I do — I am not becoming some mysterious woman you met in Monaco."
A faint line appeared beside Luca's mouth. "You've never been to Monaco."
"Exactly."
"Anything else?"
"You don't order me around because I'm wearing a dress instead of sitting behind this desk."
Luca held her gaze. "Agreed."
Sophia studied him for another beat. "One night."
"One night."
At 7:43, a black sedan stopped beneath the limestone entrance of the Beaumont Hotel.
Camera shutters snapped beyond the velvet ropes. Inside the car, Luca adjusted one cuff while Sophia looked through the tinted window at men in tuxedos and women stepping beneath chandeliers.
She had refused the diamonds. Instead, she wore a midnight-blue gown she had chosen herself — simple at the shoulders, elegant through the waist, her dark hair swept away from her face.
Luca finally looked at her. And did not look away.
Sophia noticed. "Problem?"
"No."
"You've been staring for seven seconds."
"I was reconsidering something."
"The deal."
"My assumption."
"Which one?"
The driver opened her door before Luca answered. Warm golden light spilled across the curb. A string quartet floated through the entrance, mixed with champagne glasses and hundreds of polished voices.
Sophia stepped out first.
One photographer lowered his camera for half a second before raising it again. Then another flash fired, and another. Luca emerged behind her.
Inside the ballroom, conversations began breaking in small, visible ripples as Sophia walked beside him. A silver-haired banker Luca knew turned completely around. Two younger executives stopped speaking.
Across the room, a man holding champagne smiled directly at Sophia and started toward them.
Luca's jaw tightened.
Sophia saw it and leaned closer. "Relax, Mr. Moretti. I'm still your fake date."
Luca watched the approaching man straighten his tuxedo, and for the first time that evening, the arrangement no longer felt harmless.
The man with the champagne reached Sophia before Luca decided whether he disliked the smile or the confidence behind it.
"Daniel Mercer," he said, extending his hand. Crystal glasses chimed nearby, and warm chandelier light flashed across his silver cuff links.
Sophia accepted the handshake. "Sophia Bennett."
Daniel glanced at Luca. "I know Moretti."
"Most people here do," Sophia said.
Daniel laughed. Luca did not.
"And how do you know him?" Daniel asked.
Sophia lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray. "I prevent him from being in three places at once."
Daniel blinked. "You work together."
"I'm his executive secretary."
The answer traveled farther than it should have. A woman nearby turned. One of the younger executives from across the ballroom looked over again. Luca watched Sophia take a measured sip. She had refused to become mysterious — exactly as promised.
Daniel smiled wider. "Then you're probably the most important person in his building."
"Don't tell him. He thinks it's him."
This time, even Luca's mouth shifted.
Daniel excused himself when another guest approached — but the space he left did not remain empty. A real-estate investor introduced himself. Then an attorney from Boston. Then a venture capitalist Sophia recognized because she had scheduled him into Luca's calendar twice and removed him once.
The quartet moved into something slower. Perfume, cedar cologne, and warm food drifted beneath the chandeliers while waiters crossed the marble floor with silver trays.
Luca had brought Sophia because she was supposed to make the evening predictable.
Instead, men kept finding reasons to remain beside her.
"Miss Bennett," the venture capitalist said, "if Moretti ever lets you escape, call me." He offered a business card. Sophia took it.
Luca's fingers tightened around his untouched glass. "She isn't looking for work."
Sophia turned her head. "I can answer that."
Silence held for half a beat. Luca remembered the rule from her desk — no answering questions for her. He stepped back.
"You're right."
Sophia slipped the card into her small clutch. "Thank you. But I'm not currently looking."
Currently.
Luca heard that word clearly.
Before he could decide why, a photographer called their names near the ballroom entrance.
Sophia moved toward the camera without waiting for Luca to guide her. He followed.
"Closer, please," the photographer said.
Luca placed a hand near Sophia's waist — then stopped before touching the blue fabric.
Sophia noticed the hesitation.
She moved half a step toward him herself.
The shutter snapped.
White light flooded their faces.
"Perfect."
When Luca lowered his eyes, Sophia was already looking at him.
"You asked permission without asking," she murmured.
"I'm learning slowly."
Another flash.
Then a voice behind them said:
"Sophia."
They turned.
A tall man in a navy tuxedo stood several feet away, holding two champagne glasses. He was younger than Luca — perhaps thirty-two — with an easy smile and none of the careful distance most people kept around the Moretti name.
"Ethan Cole," he said. "We met at the Harrington conference last spring."
Sophia's face changed.
Not dramatically — just enough for recognition to warm her eyes.
"You remembered."
"Hard not to."
Luca's hand dropped from behind her.
Ethan offered Sophia one of the glasses.
"I tried to find you afterward, but your boss apparently guards his calendar like federal property."
Sophia took the glass.
"That sounds like him."
Ethan smiled at Luca, then returned his attention to her.
"There's dancing after dinner. Save me one."
Luca expected Sophia to glance at him.
She didn't.
The band began tuning beyond the ballroom doors — a low note vibrating through the polished floor beneath their shoes.
Sophia raised her glass toward Ethan.
"Ask me when the music starts."
Ethan walked away, smiling.
Luca watched him disappear into the crowd.
"You're enjoying this," he said quietly.
Sophia looked around at the men who had spent years walking past her desk without seeing her and were suddenly searching the room for her face.
Then she looked back at Luca.
"You brought me here to play your date, Mr. Moretti."
She took another sip of champagne.
"You never said everyone else had to believe I belonged to you."
Luca's expression hardened.
Before he could answer, the ballroom lights dimmed.
A voice came over the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for dinner."
Sophia turned.
Luca put a hand lightly at the small of her back.
"Stay close."
She glanced at him.
"That's an order?"
"No."
He leaned closer.
"It's a warning."
A man in a tuxedo crossed behind them.
As he passed, something metallic flashed briefly beneath his cuff.
Luca's entire body changed.
His hand closed around Sophia's wrist.
"Don't move."
She looked up.
"What?"
He stared toward the ballroom entrance.
The man had disappeared.
Luca's security chief appeared at his side.
A whisper.
"Boss, we found something."
"Where?"
"In your car."
Luca's face went cold.
Sophia felt his fingers tighten.
"What happened?"
He looked at her.
"The man who planted a tracker in my vehicle knew you would be sitting beside me tonight."
She swallowed.
"Why would anyone care where I sit?"
Luca didn't answer immediately.
Then he said,
"Because this wasn't supposed to be a fake relationship."
Sophia's heart skipped.
"What do you mean?"
He looked toward the crowd.
May you like
"They wanted you beside me."
And suddenly, the evening stopped being an act.
