Chapter 3

Jamie jammed the stack of marketing briefs into the copier like they had personally wronged him.

All he had to do was get in, copy thirty-two client decks, and get out before running into him again. The office was huge. The copy room was tucked in the far corner of the third floor. It was early.

He had a plan.

And plans were safe.

Plans didn’t smirk at you with knowledge of your oat milk lies.

He pressed “Start” and willed the machine to hurry the hell up.

Of course, the door swung open behind him.

Of. Course.

“Capulet.”

That voice. Crisp. Amused. British. Dangerous.

Oh, this was a mistake. A deeply attractive, professionally inappropriate mistake.

Jamie didn’t turn around. “It’s just Jamie.”

“Shame. Capulet suits you,” Blake drawled, leaning casually against the counter like he belonged in a cologne ad called Sabotage.

Jamie stared straight ahead. “Need copies?”

“No, I just followed the scent of panic and self-loathing.” A beat. “You wear it well.”

Jamie’s jaw tightened. “Look, I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You’re having fun with this. With me. With my whole… existential implosion on flight 428.”

Blake grinned. “It was more of a mid-air monologue, really. Very theatrical. Thoroughly entertaining. You should consider a podcast.”

Jamie turned, red creeping up his neck. “Are you planning to use it against me, or just emotionally blackmail me for fun?”

Blake tilted his head. “What would I even use it for? Expose you for pretending to like raw fish? Shame you for your deep love of mismatched socks and soft blankets?” He shrugged lightly. “I’d be the villain in a Pixar film.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, immensely.”

Jamie exhaled, sharp. “You have no idea how embarrassing that was.”

Blake’s smile softened – just a little. “You’d be surprised.”

Jamie blinked.

Blake stepped forward, slow, not intimidating – but present.

Oh, that was worse. That was so much worse.

“You know,” he said, picking up one of the warm copies from the tray, “I’ve sat through thousands of business class flights. People lie through their teeth. Brag. Name-drop. Flex their startups, their watches, their vacation homes.”

He handed the paper to Jamie. Their fingers brushed.

Jamie felt it anyway.

“You’re the first person I’ve met who accidentally told the truth.”

Jamie swallowed.

Blake leaned in slightly. “And honestly? It was refreshing.”

Jamie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Even the bit about dreaming of shirtless mornings and mac and cheese in bed?”

Blake’s eyes sparkled. “Especially that bit.”

The copier beeped. Jamie jumped.

Blake stepped back, easy, relaxed. “Relax, Capulet. I’m not here to out you. Or judge you. Or ruin you.”

Jamie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Blake moved to the door, then paused.

“But I will be watching.”

Jamie frowned. “That supposed to intimidate me?”

“No,” Blake said, smirking again. “It’s a warning.”

Jamie’s stomach dipped.

“If you keep pretending to be someone you’re not…” Blake’s gaze flicked over him, sharp and knowing. “I’ll know.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

Jamie stared after him, pulse racing, mind spinning.

He looked down at the copies.

Page one was upside down.

He groaned. “Of course.”