If there's one thing I hate, it's a surprise.
So imagine mine when I walked into the office and saw some guy sitting way too close to my girlfriend—laughing, like they'd known each other for years.
I tried to focus on the press statement I was supposed to deliver in three days, but every time I looked up, there she was. Smiling.
Smiling.
"Damn it," I muttered, rubbing my face and leaning back in my chair.
Alaina glanced up from her paperwork and winked at me. Nate——locked eyes with me like he had something to prove. I smiled and nodded.
"That's right," I said, a little louder than I intended, "she's mine."
Forget the statement. I stood, buttoned my jacket, and headed straight for her office.
"You hungry?" I asked, stepping in. "I'm heading out for lunch."
Alaina jumped up like she'd been waiting for an excuse. "Yes, absolutely," she said, grabbing her purse and jacket before I could even hold the door.
Then, of course, Nate had to ruin it.
"Do you mind if I come? I'm pretty hungry myself," he said, standing like he was part of the damn plan.
Alaina hesitated. "Um, Mr. Simmons… is it okay if Nate tags along?"
Everything in me wanted to say no. But I kept my expression neutral.
"Oh, come on," Nate added, flashing that cocky, smile. "It's not like it's a date."
"Sure," I said tightly. "Why not. Let's invite the whole damn office. My treat."
I took a deep breath, already bracing for the headache this would be.
We piled into the elevator, headed to an Italian place called Italios. I leaned in to say something to Alaina, but Nate—predictably—slid right between us.
"Hey, Alaina," he said, grinning like a smug teenager, "can you hang back for a sec?"
I muttered under my breath, "Fucking cockblocker."
When we reached the restaurant, Alaina slipped her hand into mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. A silent confirmation that she was mine and for a moment, I could breathe again.
Then we sat down.
"Is it okay if I sit next to Alaina?" Nate asked, glancing between us like it was some kind of competition.
Alaina didn't even look up from her menu. "Sure, I guess."
Nate seemed to falter, just for a second. But when he noticed me watching, he straightened up again, his expression hardening.
I reached across the table and placed my hand over hers, pointing to the menu. "This one's my favorite," I said with a grin.
She smiled, cheeks going pink as she read the description. We ordered the same dish.
Nate scoffed. "Guess I'll have the same," he muttered, like it physically pained him.
I took off my jacket and leaned in closer to Alaina as she showed me the dessert options. Her eyes lit up when she saw .
"Sure, Miss Jackson," I teased. "Whatever you want."
I could feel Nate watching us like a hawk. He pulled out his phone and started typing, frowning the entire time.
Halfway through the meal, he pulled a move that nearly made me throw my fork: he reached over and tried to drag Alaina's chair closer to his.
I stopped him, casually sticking my foot out to block it. He looked confused, but Alaina just gave a polite laugh and turned back to her plate.
After lunch, we headed back toward the office. Nate caught up to me just outside the building.
"Mr. Simmons, I wanted to ask you something."
I turned, jaw tight. "What is it?"
"I know it's against company policy to date coworkers," he started, sounding way too polite for someone this smug, "but since I've been working closely with Miss Jackson, I was thinking of asking her out."
That stopped me cold.
I wanted to snap. I wanted to say no more than anything.
But I didn't.
"I wrote that policy," I said, forcing a smile. "So no, I don't think it's appropriate."
Nate didn't blink. Instead, he doubled down.
"I reviewed the handbook. There's nothing in it about interns."
I stared at him, nearly stunned at the audacity.
He smiled like he'd won something.
"You're right," I said through gritted teeth. "Go ahead. Ask Miss Jackson out. But don't let it distract you from your work."
He smirked—and walked ahead toward Alaina, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, fighting not to lose it.