Chapter 5: The Worst Disguise in New York

By Saturday morning, Lily had turned my bedroom into a low-budget costume department.

There were three wigs on the bed, four pairs of sunglasses on the dresser, and enough makeup spread across the table to repaint a small apartment.

I stood in front of the mirror wearing a blonde wig that looked like it had survived a hurricane.

"I look like I'm hiding from the police," I said.

Lily tilted her head.

"A stylish criminal."

"I look ridiculous."

"That's the point. He can't recognize you if you don't look like you."

"He has seen my face at work almost every day for a year."

"Exactly. So today, you need a different face."

I removed the wig and threw it onto the bed.

"Maybe I should cancel."

"You promised."

"People break promises all the time."

"You have already broken enough things in this relationship."

I gave her a sharp look.

"Whose side are you on?"

"The side that wants this mess resolved before your boss works us to death."

She picked up a dark brown bob wig and placed it on my head.

"Try this one."

I stared at myself.

It wasn't terrible.

That was the nicest thing I could say about it.

The wig ended just below my jaw and made me look several years older. Lily added large glasses with clear lenses and applied darker lipstick than I normally wore.

"Now change your voice," she said.

"My voice?"

"He has heard you speak at work."

"Not enough to recognize me."

"He recognized your exhaustion through a glass wall."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

I tried speaking in a lower voice.

"Hello, Adrian. It is wonderful to finally meet you."

Lily burst out laughing.

"You sound like a suspicious European villain."

"This is impossible."

"Just speak more slowly. Don't use your usual phrases."

"What usual phrases?"

"You say seriously when you're nervous. You also touch your left earring whenever you lie."

My hand immediately moved toward my ear.

Lily pointed at me.

"See?"

"I hate how much you notice."

"That's what best friends are for."

At one thirty, I was still standing near the apartment door, debating whether jumping out of the window would be easier than meeting Adrian.

Lily handed me my purse.

"Go."

"I feel sick."

"Good. It means you care."

"Or it means this wig is cutting off blood circulation to my brain."

She pushed me into the hallway.

"Text me when you get there."

"And if I disappear?"

"I'll clear your search history before calling the police."

"You're a true friend."

The café was quieter than I expected.

It sat on a corner facing Central Park, with tall windows, small round tables, and soft music playing in the background.

I arrived twelve minutes early.

Adrian was already there.

Of course he was.

He sat near the window in a dark navy coat, one hand around a coffee cup. He wasn't wearing a suit, which somehow made him look more dangerous.

At work, the suit created distance.

Here, dressed casually, he looked younger. Warmer. More like the man I had spent two years talking to.

My courage disappeared.

I turned toward the door.

My phone buzzed.

"I'm here. Table near the window."

I closed my eyes.

Then another message appeared.

"No pressure. If you changed your mind, tell me and I'll understand."

That was so unfair.

If he had sounded demanding, I could have escaped.

Instead, he sounded kind.

I took a slow breath and walked toward him.

Adrian looked up.

For one horrifying second, his gaze sharpened.

I nearly tripped over my own shoes.

"Adrian?" I asked in the strange, careful voice Lily had taught me.

He stood immediately.

"Yes."

"Hi."

"Hi."

We stared at each other.

This was not how I had imagined our first meeting.

Actually, I had imagined never having one.

"I'm Claire," I said.

The fake name left my mouth before I could stop it.

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Claire?"

My stomach dropped.

"Yes."

"Your profile says Emma."

Idiot.

Complete idiot.

I laughed too loudly.

"Claire is my middle name."

"You prefer your middle name?"

"Sometimes."

"I didn't know that."

"There are many things you don't know about me."

"Apparently."

He pulled out the chair for me.

I sat down carefully, making sure the wig stayed in place.

Adrian returned to his seat, but his eyes remained on me.

"You look different from your pictures," he said.

"People say that."

"Your hair was longer."

"I cut it."

"And darker."

"I dyed it."

"This morning?"

I touched my earring.

Then quickly lowered my hand.

"Recently."

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn't convinced.

A server approached, saving me from immediate collapse.

"What can I get you?"

"Latte," I said.

"With oat milk?" Adrian asked.

I looked at him.

He smiled slightly.

"You always order oat milk."

I had forgotten how much he remembered.

"Right. Oat milk."

The server left.

Silence settled between us.

Online, we never ran out of things to say.

In person, every sentence felt dangerous.

Adrian rested his hands around his coffee.

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"You keep looking at the door."

"I like knowing where the exits are."

"Should I be worried?"

"Probably."

He laughed.

The sound relaxed me more than it should have.

"You are exactly like your messages," he said.

My pulse jumped.

"Is that good?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"You are also much more guarded in person."

"Meeting strangers is risky."

"After two years, am I still a stranger?"

The question landed harder than I expected.

I looked down at the table.

"Not exactly."

"Then why did it take this long?"

I had prepared several answers.

None of them sounded convincing now.

"I was scared."

That part, at least, was true.

"Of me?"

"Of what would happen after."

"What do you think would happen?"

I imagined Monday morning.

His anger.

My resignation letter.

Security escorting me from the building while Lily watched with a coffee in her hand.

"Things might change," I said.

"They already have."

"How?"

"I spent two years caring about someone I had never met. Now you're sitting in front of me."

His voice was quiet.

No performance. No polished CEO tone.

Just honesty.

Guilt twisted inside me.

"Adrian..."

"You don't have to say anything yet."

"I should."

"Then tell me one true thing."

I stared at him.

"One true thing?"

"Something you haven't told me before."

My mind went blank.

He waited.

I could have told him everything.

I could have removed the wig, taken off the glasses, and admitted that Emma Hayes from the finance department had been the woman behind every late-night message.

Instead, I said, "I hate cinnamon in coffee."

Adrian looked surprised.

"You told me you liked it."

"I lied because you said you liked it first."

A slow smile appeared on his face.

"I hate cinnamon too."

"What?"

"I only said I liked it because you did."

We stared at each other.

Then I started laughing.

Adrian joined me.

For the first time all afternoon, I forgot the wig, the fake name, and the disaster waiting for me.

We were simply two people who had spent years pretending to enjoy cinnamon for each other.

The server brought my latte.

I took one sip and nearly relaxed.

Then Adrian leaned forward.

"Can I ask you something strange?"

My fingers tightened around the cup.

"How strange?"

"Have we met before?"

The café suddenly felt too warm.

"No."

My hand moved toward my left earring.

I stopped it halfway.

His eyes followed the movement.

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure."

"Your voice sounds familiar."

"I have a common voice."

"And that expression."

"What expression?"

"The one you make when you're trying not to argue."

I forced a laugh.

"You can recognize that from one conversation?"

"I notice things."

"That's unsettling."

"Usually people call it observant."

"People are being polite."

He smiled again, but the suspicion remained in his eyes.

I checked the time.

Only twenty-three minutes had passed.

I needed to survive another thirty-seven.

"Tell me about work," I said quickly.

"Work is boring."

"You're a CEO. Isn't work your entire personality?"

"That sounds like something one of my employees would say."

My heart stopped.

He watched my face.

I took another sip of coffee to hide my panic.

"Maybe your employees are right."

"One of them called me a nightmare this week."

I almost choked.

"To your face?"

"Not exactly."

"Then how do you know?"

"I have my ways."

He looked amused now.

Far too amused.

I set the cup down.

"You should be nicer to them."

"I sent everyone home early yesterday."

"At eight thirty."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

Adrian went still.

I went still too.

His gaze narrowed.

"How do you know what time my employees left yesterday?"

Every thought disappeared from my head.

Outside the window, a yellow taxi passed slowly through the rain.

Inside the café, Adrian waited for my answer.

I had two choices.

Tell the truth.

Or create another lie so terrible it would probably end my career anyway.

Naturally, I chose the lie.

"I saw it online."

"Where?"

"A company review site."

"Someone posted the exact time employees left yesterday?"

"People share everything now."

He stared at me for several long seconds.

Then his phone rang.

Adrian glanced at the screen and frowned.

"I need to take this."

"Of course."

He stood and walked several steps away.

The second his back turned, I grabbed my phone beneath the table and messaged Lily.

"He knows."

Her reply came instantly.

"Knows what?"

"Everything. Probably."

"Run."

I looked toward the door.

For once, Lily's advice sounded excellent.

I picked up my purse and stood.

Then Adrian's voice came from behind me.

"Leaving already, Miss Hayes?"

I froze.

The entire café seemed to disappear.

Slowly, I turned around.

Adrian stood beside the table, his phone still in one hand.

He was no longer smiling.

His gaze moved from my glasses to the edge of the dark wig.

"Or should I call you Claire?"