Chapter 4: Operation Avoid Saturday

By Thursday morning, I had developed a detailed plan.

It was called Operation Avoid Saturday.

The name was dramatic, but so was the situation.

My first idea was food poisoning.

Simple. Believable. Difficult to question.

Unfortunately, Lily rejected it before I even finished explaining.

"You used food poisoning to avoid the finance team dinner last month," she reminded me.

"People can get food poisoning twice."

"Not from the same fictional sushi restaurant."

I crossed it off my list.

My second idea was a family emergency.

Lily stared at me.

"Which family member?"

"An aunt."

"You told him you're an only child whose parents live abroad."

"A distant aunt."

"He remembers everything you tell him."

"That's one of his more inconvenient qualities."

I crossed that one off too.

By nine thirty, I had filled half a notebook page with excuses and rejected every single one.

Migraine sounded weak.

Flat tire was useless because he would probably send a driver.

Unexpected work was impossible because he was the one giving me work.

A sudden wedding invitation seemed suspicious.

Temporary memory loss felt excessive, even for me.

Lily leaned over the divider between our desks.

"You know there's another option."

"No."

"I haven't said it yet."

"You were going to say tell him the truth."

"I was."

"Then no."

"Emma, you've been dating him for almost two years."

"Online."

"That's still dating."

"It's dating with an emergency exit."

"Except you forgot to use the exit before feelings got involved."

I closed the notebook.

"I do not need your judgment before coffee."

"You already had two cups."

"Then I need a third."

Before I could escape toward the break room, an email appeared on my screen.

From: Adrian Carter.

Subject: Morrison Presentation.

My stomach sank before I even opened it.

"Miss Hayes, please come to my office at ten with the revised report."

Lily read it over my shoulder.

"He wants to see you."

"He wants the report."

"At ten exactly."

"That is how meetings work."

"Wear lip gloss."

I gave her a flat look.

"I'm going to a performance review, not prom."

"You don't know that."

At nine fifty-nine, I stood outside Adrian's office holding the report against my chest like a shield.

His assistant, Nora, waved me in without looking up from her computer.

Adrian was standing near the windows, speaking on the phone.

He had his back to me, one hand in his pocket, his voice calm and controlled.

"No, move the deadline to Monday. I don't want the team staying late again tonight."

I blinked.

Was this the same man who had turned the office into a corporate hostage situation three days ago?

He ended the call and turned around.

"Miss Hayes."

"Mr. Carter."

His gaze moved briefly over my face.

"You look less tired today."

"I got six hours of sleep."

"An impressive recovery."

"I've always been resilient."

His mouth twitched.

I placed the report on his desk.

"The revised projections are on page twelve, and I corrected the duplicated figure."

"I saw."

"You already reviewed it?"

"You sent the draft at seven this morning."

"Right."

Of course he had reviewed it. Adrian probably read emails while brushing his teeth.

He sat behind his desk and opened the document.

"Your analysis is strong."

I paused.

"Thank you."

"But the conclusion is too cautious."

"The client's expansion numbers are optimistic."

"You think they're unrealistic."

"I think they are emotionally attached to a forecast that doesn't exist."

He looked up at me.

For one second, silence filled the room.

Then he laughed.

Not the quiet almost-laugh from the previous night.

A real one.

Warm. Surprised. Completely unlike the CEO everyone feared.

I forgot how to breathe.

"That's one way to phrase it," he said.

"I can use more professional wording in the presentation."

"Please do."

He looked down again, but the smile stayed.

My phone vibrated inside my bag.

I ignored it.

Then it vibrated again.

Adrian's eyes moved toward the sound.

"You can check it."

"It's probably nothing."

"It sounds persistent."

That was rich coming from him.

I reached into my bag and glanced at the screen.

Two messages from online Adrian.

"Good morning."

"Are you busy?"

I nearly laughed from pure disbelief.

The man was sitting three feet away from me and messaging me because I hadn't replied quickly enough.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes. Just my friend."

"The close one?"

His tone was casual.

Too casual.

"Something like that."

He tapped his pen once against the desk.

"Does he often message you during work?"

"He worries when I don't respond."

"Sounds demanding."

"He can be."

"Maybe you should set boundaries."

I stared at him.

"That's excellent advice."

"You disagree?"

"No. I'm just surprised to hear it from you."

His eyebrows lifted.

"From me?"

"You're known for being persistent."

"At work?"

"In general."

For a terrifying second, I thought I had said too much.

Then Adrian leaned back in his chair.

"And how exactly would you know that, Miss Hayes?"

My brain shut down.

"Company reputation."

"I have a reputation for persistence?"

"You became CEO at twenty-seven. I'm assuming you didn't get here by accepting no."

He studied me long enough to make my palms sweat.

"Fair point."

I released a silent breath.

He closed the report.

"You'll present this with me tomorrow."

"Me?"

"You understand the figures better than anyone else on the team."

"Daniel usually handles client presentations."

"Daniel is in Chicago."

"Lily could do it."

"Lily submitted a chart with three spelling errors last week."

I had no defense for that.

"Tomorrow at eleven," he continued. "Conference Room A."

"Understood."

I turned to leave.

"Miss Hayes."

I looked back.

"Do you have plans Saturday?"

The question hit me like a falling piano.

"Saturday?"

"Yes."

"I might."

"You might have plans?"

"My schedule is still developing."

He looked amused now.

"Developing into what?"

"I don't know yet."

"That's a mysterious schedule."

"I like flexibility."

"So do I."

His phone lit up on the desk.

I saw the messaging app icon.

My heartbeat jumped.

He picked it up, typed something, and placed it face down.

A second later, my phone vibrated.

"Saturday is still happening," online Adrian had written.

I looked at the man behind the desk.

He looked back at me with an expression so calm it felt suspicious.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Carter?"

"No. You can go."

I walked out with as much dignity as possible.

The moment the door shut, I hurried to the restroom and opened the chat.

"Something came up," I typed.

His reply arrived instantly.

"What?"

"Work."

"On Saturday?"

"Possibly."

"Cancel it."

"Some of us don't own the company."

"Tell your boss you have personal plans."

"My boss doesn't care about personal plans."

There was a pause.

"Your boss sounds terrible again."

"The worst."

"Then let me make Saturday worth the trouble."

"Adrian..."

"One hour. If you hate me in person, you can leave."

I leaned against the sink.

That was the problem.

I already knew I didn't hate him.

I knew how he looked when he was exhausted, how he loosened his tie after difficult meetings, and how he tapped his pen when he was annoyed.

I knew he secretly hated cinnamon in coffee even though he never complained when the office café got his order wrong.

I knew he could be cold, stubborn, and impossible.

I also knew he sent weather warnings, remembered birthdays, and once stayed online with me until four in the morning because I was nervous about a medical test.

Meeting him wasn't frightening because he might disappoint me.

It was frightening because he might look at me and realize I had disappointed him.

"I'll be there," I typed before I could change my mind.

The message showed as read.

Nothing happened for several seconds.

Then he replied, "Really?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to cancel?"

"I make no promises about sudden disasters."

"I'll take the risk."

A location followed.

A quiet café near Central Park.

Saturday. Two o'clock.

I stared at the details until the words blurred.

When I returned to my desk, Lily took one look at my face.

"What did you do?"

"I agreed to meet him."

Her mouth fell open.

"You told him the truth?"

"Let's not get carried away."

"Then how are you planning to meet him?"

I sat down slowly.

"That's the part I haven't worked out yet."

Lily stared at me for a long moment.

"I have a wig," she said.

I turned toward her.

"Why do you own a wig?"

"That is not the important question."

Unfortunately, she was right.

The important question was whether I could sit across from my own boss in a disguise, pretend to be a stranger, and survive an entire hour without him recognizing me.

Considering my history of bad decisions, the answer was probably no.

But Saturday was coming anyway.